Page 61 of In My Hockey Era
My heart does a weird little thing in my chest.I clear my throat.“So?You gonna say thank you or just keep looking at me like that?”
I’m lying, of course.She could look at me like that forever if she wanted…
She rolls her eyes, but the smile she gives me is different.Warmer.Realer.“Thank you,” she murmurs.Then, surprising the hell out of me, she pushes up onto her toes and kisses me.Quick but lingering, right in the middle of the damn hallway.
I grin as she pulls away.“You’re lucky I like you, Quinn.”
She smirks.“Yeah?How much?”
I hook a finger in the collar of her hoodie and tug her closer.“Enough to let you steal my jersey.But don’t think for a second that means I’m not winning it back.”
Her laughter echoes down the hall, and, it might be my favorite sound in the whole world.
24
DIAGNOSIS: SMITTEN
Lucy
The inside of the ambulance is a controlled storm of movement and noise—beeping monitors, the low hum of the road beneath us, and the patient’s shallow, labored breaths.
“Chest pain, radiating to your left arm, right?”I ask, securing an oxygen mask over the elderly man’s face.
He nods weakly.Sweat beads along his graying hairline, his skin pale and clammy.
Ethan adjusts the heart monitor leads, glancing at the vitals.“BP’s low.Pulse is irregular.”He looks at me.“We’ll get an EKG at the hospital, but you thinking a STEMI?”
“Could be,” I say, reaching for the nitro.“Sir, I’m going to give you some medication under your tongue to help with the chest pain, okay?”
Another nod.I administer the nitroglycerin and glance at the monitor, watching his numbers for any change.
Ethan settles onto the bench across from me, rubbing a hand over his jaw.“So.Nashville.”
I don’t look up.“Not really the time, Ethan.”
Obviously.
Not that it’s stopped us before.
I once told him about this incredible Italian restaurant I’d eaten at while administering an enema.
Yeah.That actually happened.
Ethan’s lips quirk.“What, you can multi-task when it comes to saving lives, but not when it comes to answering a few innocent questions?”
He’s right of course.
I press my lips together, focusing on our patient.“Take slow breaths for me,” I tell him, adjusting the flow of oxygen.
Ethan sighs dramatically.“I’m just saying, I saw the pictures.You and Wilder looked awfully cozy.And before you say it, yes, I know it was for PR, but still.”
Still.
I force myself to stay professional, keep my hands steady.But damn it, Ethan isn’t wrong.
Itwasn’tjust PR.Not by the end of it.Not by a longshot.
I can still feel the weight of Bennett’s body pinning me to the mattress, the way his voice rasped my name, the heat of his mouth trailing over every inch of my skin.Things hadn’t gonethere… only because he said he didn’t pack protection when I asked, okaybegged.And maybe that was for the best.This was all still very new between us.
