Page 57 of Writing On The Wall

“How do you figure that?” I lean back on the hospital bed. Ethan jumps forward when I pinch my eyes closed at the stinging on my side. I’ve also traded his shirt for a wad of gauze, and thankfully the bleeding seems to have slowed. Ethan still hovers close by, clearly unsure how to help.

Then I realize, this man is in a constant state of uncertainty when he’s with me. But even when he’s scowling at me—which is ninety-nine percent of the time—his attention is completely focused on me.

And I like it too much.

For the majority of my life, Ross and the less fortunate absorbed most of my parents’ attention and efforts, while I self-sufficiently blended into the background. But somehow—no matter what I do—Ethan sees me. What he sees, though, apparently drives him mad. But he pays attention, nonetheless.

Neither of us seem to be willing to acknowledge that kiss. I’m not sure of Ethan’s motivation for not bringing it up, but my rationale is back to angry-stomping its feet, demanding I pay attention.

What were my reasons for not liking Ethan again?

He’s a shameless flirt.

Well…I mean, is that our only reason? ‘Cause that one’s actually not so bad.

Fake boyfriend.

Ah, yes. There it is.

For the first time this evening, I glance over and take him in. His hair’s slightly ruffled and sticking out. His pizza-stained shirt still hugs his chest temptingly, and his tanned skin peeksout from beneath the sleeves, a pleasant contrast to the bright ribbon tied around his wrist.

Excuse me, hold the phone!

“That’s my ribbon,” I blurt out.

His eyes dart down to his wrist, arms still crossed. He shrugs with a lip jutting out. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“You’re seriously playing that angle?”

We’re interrupted by a knock and then the door opening, not that I’m convinced Ethan was going to respond to my accusation, anyway. A young, attractive man in a white lab coat flashes a bright smile before he pulls the door closed behind him. He seems vaguely familiar.

“Ivy Marsh? I’m Dr. Bryan. I hear someone got into a fight with a glass bottle?” He asks, snapping on a pair of gloves as a nurse joins our party.

I clear my throat before answering. “Sort of, but it’s not what you think.”

“So you weren’t in a bar fight?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Ethan lets out a low grunt while I begin to sputter, trying to explain how the glass probably came from a crushed light fixture and get this man to understand that I’m not a senseless party animal. But then the doctor laughs, his eyes suddenly warming.

“I’m kidding, Ivy. My sister, Stef, works with you, remember?”

Ethan elicits the slightest growl, and I flash a frown at him before turning back to Dr. Bryan. That’s why he looks familiar. I’d forgotten that Stef had introduced us last year.

“Oh…right. Well, this was just a home-reno accident. No alcohol involved.” I laugh awkwardly, but his smile only grows. “Let’s have a look, shall we? Lie back for me.” He winks.

My eyes snag on Ethan’s as I recline. How is it possible forhim to frown deeper? Except this time his fury is directed toward the doctor who’s currently lifting the hem of my shirt and prodding around.

“Not too bad.” Dr. Bryan narrows his eyes while his gloved fingers inspect my side. “About an inch and a half wide and a half-inch deep. You didn’t nick anything important, but we’ll need to get it stitched up.”

“Yay,” I deadpan when Ethan growls again. This’ll be fun.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ETHAN

Dr. McFeely continues groping Ivy’s bare skin, making her giggle when he cracks a corny joke and flourishes it with another stupid wink. Isn’t he breaking some ancient medical oath by flirting with a patient?

I know I’ve been a jerk tonight. Watching Ivy fall, knowing I couldn’t catch her—it nearly gave me a heart attack. And to top it off, I was out getting a stupid pizza instead of being there for her in the first place. Then I went and kissed her. It was the hottest damn kiss I’ve ever experienced, and we hadn’t even gotten past a PG-rating.

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