Page 14 of Rogue

“Dr. Howard is taking this one,” she says. “You can enjoy your break a little longer.”

Dr. Howard—Howie, as he asked me to call him—is the ER Chief and he’s been the one supervising me for most of the day. He’s in his early fifties, with his long graying brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, and a sparkle in his blue eyes each time a new casualty comes in. A true emergency medicine doc right down to his core. He lives for his job. I still can’t decide if I want to be just like him when I grow up, or whether he’ll be the reason I go looking for a calmer job once I finally get my license to practice medicine unsupervised.

Howie whizzes right past me on his way to the ambulance, his ponytail streaking behind him.

The guy they pull from the back of the ambulance is about Edge’s age, about his build and the paramedics are saying it’s a GSW—a gunshot wound—to the chest and abdomen.

At least Edge only got shot in the stomach.That’s my last thought before I’m back on the dirty floor of a garage trying to keep him alive on that terrible morning. The colors of the world all turn black in front of my eyes, and my hands start shaking so hard I have to stick them in the pockets of my white coat, which doesn’t help any.

I chose emergency medicine as my specialty because of all the wonderful men and women who worked so hard in the ERto save my real family after they were in a car crash. They were my only light on that night I spent in the waiting room of a San Francisco hospital, praying, crying, hoping they’d succeed. They didn’t.

Edge saved my life a few days later, when I tried to join them in death. He rode by as I stood on the railing of a tall bridge, preparing to jump off and succeeded in talking me down. And then he brought me with him to the Devil’s Nightmare MC clubhouse where we both stayed. He saved my life and when it came to me returning the favor, I couldn’t do the same to for him.

“I was hoping to run into you here,” a familiar voice says.

I turn towards the voice, and the swirling black colors that are the world for me right now dissolve into the mostly brilliantly green eyes I’ve ever seen.

“It’s you,” I mutter.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Rogue says, grinning at me. “I hoped you’d be happier to see me.”

His smile is infectious. His eyes mesmerizing. His voice like the chords of a beautiful song.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” I say, blaming my tiredness and dark thoughts for this piece of brutal honesty.

Fact is, he’s been on my mind a lot these last few days. And not just because he’s the only person I sort of know in this city.

“No?” he asks, his eyes disappointed, but his lips still stretched into a grin. “I was actually counting the days until I saw you again. You’ve been hard to keep off my mind.”

Typical biker. Just saying exactly what’s on his mind, no matter the situation and setting. Plus, his lust for me is also plain to read in his eyes. I feel like the club girl I was, not the doctor I am now. And I kinda like it. Despite myself.

“Is that so?” I ask.

“What time do you get off?”

I laugh. “Get straight to the point, why don’t you?”

“Life’s too short for anything else?”

His eyes turn darker as he says it, like the sun shining onto the peaceful lake of his eyes hid behind clouds and now its waters can’t gleam anymore.

“Sorry, it’s been a hell of a day,” he says and actually looks sheepish. “Running into you here is definitely the highlight. And I know you ER docs sometimes have to take off running, so I didn’t want to waste my shot.”

Fact is, he wasted his shot when he decided to be a biker. Which was probably years and years ago.

But I do like hearing what he’s saying. And his smile. And his eyes. And the way he fills both his leather jacket he’s wearing and the red shirt with a dragon over the chest he’s got on underneath. And the way he reminds me of home. Of the life I left behind. Of my wild and free days when life was just one endless day of having fun and enjoying myself.

But that’s just it.

“I’m on for hours still,” I tell him. “And I get to do it all over again tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m no fun these days.”

There. I’ll let him down easy since he’s a nice guy.

“So, about midnight?” he asks. “That’s probably how long I’ll be here too.”

“Is your wound bothering you?” I ask. “I can take a look.”

The offer is out of my mouth before I thought it through. Luckily, he shakes his head.

---