There are certain things about working in a hospital that no one really talks about, things that the movies and TV shows sweep under the rug to make it look more glamorous than it is. They never mention the sensory overload you experience the moment you walk in the door. The noise that caresses your ears is a melting pot—the humming of the overhead lights, the beeping of IV pumps, the screams and cries of pain. Then there's the smells—certain scents that, once you've smelt it you'll never forget it. You even become proficient in diagnosing certain ailments by using your sense of smell alone.
You eventually get used to it, all the horrible things you see and hear, the way a shattered bone feels under your fingers, the coppery taste of blood in the air as it pulses from an artery and rains around you. But there are some days, no matter how seasoned you are, that you just can't seem to drown it out.
I had been at work for less than an hour and was already having one of those days. I hadn't slept well; after I left my brother I spent the rest of the evening tossing back a few bottles of beer and thinking, then transitioned to my bed where I tossed and turned and thought some more.
There was a lot on my mind between my brother and Trent. Seeing Grayson was always bittersweet, and as much as I loved seeing him and spending time with the sober version of him, it brought back a lot of memories of when he was far from sober, pain pills coursing through his veins as he worked desperately to numb the agony he felt inside from losing the life he should've had.
And then there was Trent. He had never really left my mind, not since the moment I had laid eyes on him, but he was beginning to occupy most of my thoughts, day and night, and for whatever reason I couldn't shake him.
But today was the day he was finally going home, and I could only hope that the saying 'out of sight, out of mind' would ring true in this situation.
"You okay?" I blinked and looked up, my eyes meeting those of the male nurse on the other side of the desk. "Your eyes glazed over and you've just been staring at the wall for quite a while."
"I'm fine," I grumbled. "I'm just running on fumes this morning." I focused my attention back to the stack of papers before me, scribbling the discharge instructions for Trent on the lined paper and scrawling my signature beneath them before shoving them back to the nurse. "I'll do my discharge assessment and then you're free to take over and get him out of here."
He nodded and I pushed away from the desk, stalking down the hall towards Trent's room. When I approached I noticed it was empty, an episode of Friends playing to no one. With furrowed brows I looked down the hall and spotted him, crutches under each arm as he hobbled slowly around the unit. I could see the defined muscles of his back through his shirt, as if the fabric had been painted on. A pair of black gym shorts hung low on his hips, his calf muscles flexing with each step. I was practically drooling, dying to run my fingers over his hard body, taste his lips on mine, feel his hot breath on my skin.
"Hey, Dr. Spencer." A chipper voice broke me from my haze and I nodded at the nurse who strode past, giving her a shy wave. Trent had inched further down the hall, almost out of sight, and I found myself hurrying towards him, the squeaking of my shoes surely giving me away.
I fell into step beside him, my hands shoved in my jacket pockets, and his head swiveled to greet me, a slow smile spreading across his lips as recognition swept his face.
"Mornin', Chief," he remarked, nudging my shoulder with his. He kept up his slow strides, though his eyes remained locked on mine.
"Captain," I replied with a nod, an equally bright smile gracing my own face. "You look good." I paled, my eyes widening—I hadn't meant to say that. He arched a brow, suppressing a laugh. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"Uh huh," he grumbled as we rounded the corner.
"I didn't!" I sighed. "I meant, like, you're up out of bed and walking. Which is good. Since you're leaving today and all. That's all I meant."
"Okay, doc. I believe you."
But the look on his face gave away that he, in fact, did not. I couldn't blame him; I was a terrible liar.
"Don't worry. It's a normal reaction women have around me. I'm used to it." His grin reappeared, more devious this time.
I scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you are."
"You're looking good today also, if I do say so myself." He paused, his eyes flickering over my body. "I mean, since you're up and walking and all."
My cheeks flushed and I laughed. The banter between us felt natural, and I craved more—more attention, more conversation, more everything.
"How does your knee feel?" I asked, deciding that keeping the conversation professional was the only chance I had at keeping my sanity intact—and possibly my job.
He took his weight off the crutches and stood up straight; it was then I could see just how much he towered over me, my five-foot-seven frame paling in comparison to his large one.
"Better than I expected it to. You're a miracle worker." My cheeks flushed with warmth as I gazed into his green eyes, the corner of my mouth turning up in a sly grin. The way he looked at me was captivating, and God if I didn't want to kiss him right then and there.
"I wouldn't go as far as to call me a miracle work," I replied bashfully, tucking a stray blonde hair behind my ear. "But-"
"Well I would," he interjected. "You're pretty great. Don't sell yourself short." With that he began walking again, and after a couple seconds of standing dumbfounded, I peeled my feet from the floor and caught up to him.
We walked a few more laps, chatting easily, mostly about his imminent return to the ice and how much he was looking forward to it. His glee was infectious, I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and unless I was imagining things his seemed to stay glued to me, as well.
He finally stopped when we arrived at his room for the third time, hobbling inside and collapsing on the bed. I remained planted in the doorway, though all I could think about was shutting the door behind me, running my fingers through his thick hair, tangling my tongue with his and allowing my body to take what it so desperately wanted.
I wouldn't do that, though, no matter how badly I yearned. I couldn't. There had always been a part of me who was terrified of breaking the rules, always fearful of upsetting the balance of life or not doing what was expected of me. Even as an adult I still struggled with that, and this situation was no different. Even though it truly felt different, different than anything I had experienced before.
He slid off his brace and rubbed at the sore muscles that flexed below his skin, careful to avoid the sets of sutures that circled his knee cap. He pulled his head up and his eyes met mine, his lips fixated in a flat line.
"Well, I guess it's time for me to let you get out of here. The nurse will be in shortly to do your dismissal. You'll follow up at the clinic with Dr. Roth in a few weeks and he'll determine whether or not you're cleared to return to play. And in the meantime-" I paused, feeling my heart crack inside my chest "-good luck with everything. Maybe I'll try to make it to a game sometime."
I began to back out into the hall, his lips threatening to turn into a smile, and eventually they did, though it looked different than the ones he normally flashed.
It almost looked sad.
"I hope you do," he said solemnly, watching me retreat. "I really hope you do."
********
The next morning I sat at my desk massaging my temples, my head pounding from lack of sleep and caffeine. I had forgone the makeup, my face a blank canvas, which was a good thing considering how much I had been rubbing at it in the few short hours I had been awake. Sleep had evaded me, much like the previous night, my mind plagued with what if's and what could've been's. No matter how much I scolded myself for allowing my mind to wander to such a place, it continued to do so, and I could only hope that time would be on my side and eventually allow me some peace.
It was a crush—lust, even—plain and simple. And now he was gone, and I needed to move on.
A rapping at my door startled me, and I sprung from the chair almost too quickly and shuffled toward the door. My head cocked in confusion when I yanked it open and saw the second floor receptionist holding a large vase of flowers in front of her tiny body.
"Dr. Spencer, sorry to bother you, um—" she paused, looking around the large bouquet so she could see my face "—these came for you."
"For me?" I croaked incredulously. "From who?"
"I'm not sure, doctor," she replied as she shoved them into my waiting hands. "A man dropped them off at the front desk, asked that they be delivered to you as soon as possible."
"Um, thanks Cindy," I said as she scurried away. I backed into my office and kicked the door shut, setting the vase down on my desk. The clear glass container was overflowing with dahlias of all different sizes and colors, the fresh scent filling the room, and I closed my eyes and savored it.
I couldn't think of a time in my adult life when I had ever received flowers, at least not from anyone besides my parents. And dahlias, none the less, we're my favorite, and drawings of them littered my right arm, inked into my skin forever.
I plucked the card from the center of the bouquet, my name scrawled on the front in a deep black shade. I sunk into the sofa as I pulled the paper from the envelope, my eyes tracing over the words slowly, savoring them.
Chief,
I'm not your patient anymore. So you really don't have another excuse not to go out with me. I'd really like to take you to dinner. I can't get you out of my mind. Call me. - Trent
His phone number was scrawled beneath his scribbled signature, ten numbers pressed into the paper in ink and underlined for emphasis.
My breath caught in my throat and I swallowed over and over, trying to dislodge the lump that had settled there. Before I had time to think my phone was in my shaky hand, and Sam's picture on the screen.
"He sent me flowers," I spat as she answered, not even letting her properly answer my call. My words came out quick, running together as my veins coursed with anxiety.
She didn't even have to ask who he was. She knew.
"Oh my gosh, Jo, that's so damn cute. You were just telling me a few weeks ago how you would for a man to send you flowers!"
"I know, I, um, what the fuck am I supposed to do? He wrote this nice card, asked me out, gave me his number. What the fuck!"
"Calm down, Josey, jeez. Just chill. I'll tell you what to do."
"Okay, okay," I said, working to steady my breathing.
"You hang up on me. Dial his number. And say yes. No if's, and's, or but's about it. You want this. You haven't stopped thinking about him since you first saw him. He's not your patient now so there's nothing to keep you from saying yes."
"That's what he said in his note," I replied, running the fingers of my free hand over the lettering on the card.
"Smart man. And I'm a smart woman. So do what I say and call him. Got it?"
"Okay, I—"
"Don't even think," she said. "Just do. Or you'll regret it."
With that she hung up, leaving me in silence, my phone resting in my lap—taunting me.
Sam was right—the only thing in the way now was my fear. The last week and a half I had told my self that, if only he wasn't my patient I would give into my desires, and now here he was, no longer my patient, giving me what I had been longing for.
I sucked in a sharp breath and dialed his number, my knee bouncing rapidly as I listened to it ring. I had never been one to be nervous around men, but in the short time i had known him,Trent had brought out things in me that were completely foreign.
After the forth ring he answered, his smooth, deep voice meeting my ears and sending a jolt of electricity throughout my body with just one simple word.
"Hi, Trent it's—"
"Jo," he said before I was able to finish my sentence.
"Thank you for the flowers." I eyed them where they rested on my desk, my heart picking up it's pace. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
"It's my pleasure," he replied. There was a moment of silence and then he said, "So?"
I let out a slow breath and licked my bottom lip.
"I'd love to go out with you."