Wyatt’s eyes flicked over to the man now, who was consoling an elderly woman in a gurney in the hallway, while her adult daughter cried, restlessly shifting from foot to foot.
Dr. Donnelly’s beard was tidier today than it had been in a while, his short dark brown hair tousled, sprinkled with the attractive hints of gray. His hands were secured to the stethoscope around his neck as he patiently listened to the elderly woman, who had a bruised jawline and bleeding ear.
Dr. Donnelly’s warm gaze was understanding and patient, never looking away, listening to every word. There was something about having Donnelly’s full attention that seemed to still a person. He’d felt it the other night in thehotel room, as though the universe had stopped and all there was was his fixed, mesmeric gaze. Clearly, Wyatt wasn’t the only one effected by this, as the woman beside Dr. Donnelly began crying harder, and he signaled to a passing nurse. “Could you help Mrs. Mayner get a cup of tea or coffee from the kitchen, Liz?”
His tone was kind, without a hint of judgment. Even though everyone in the ED suspected this was an elder abuse case, and it was only a matter of time before he called for Jasmine, their hospital social worker.
The nurse nodded at once and gestured toward the elevator, leading Mrs. Mayner up to the hospital cafeteria.
Reyes was working with Dr. Donnelly on the case, and Wyatt felt his fingers tap impatiently against the nurses' station barrier, trying not to feel ridiculously jealous of Reyes.
Steph, the head nurse of the ED, caught his attention by tapping the end of her digital tablet over his drumming fingers. “Eyes up, Lawson. We’ve got a full board. I need you focused.”
Wyatt immediately jerked his gaze away from Dr. Donnelly. “Sorry, yeah.”
“Room two needs to be discharged, and we’ve got a metal head in room five that needs a fractured nose popped back in,” Steph informed.
Wyatt sucked in a breath, steeling himself for another round of patients, his eyes flicking back to Dr. Donnelly, unable to stop himself even if he tried.
Ever since their secret night together, Dr. Donnelly had seemed lighter, not as moody or tense. And it fucking thrilled Wyatt to think that he had a hand in that. The only problem was that Dr. Donnelly had been ignoring him the entire week. A price to fucking the captain, he supposed.
Steph leaned forward and tapped him firmly on the top of the head with the tablet.
Wyatt jumped and was about to dart away when she shook her head and beckoned him closer with a parental finger. He obeyed, knowing that one did not disrespect the nurses in the ED, or else it was hell trying to get back into their good graces.
“Lawson, could I give you some advice?” Steph asked, though Wyatt had a feeling he had no choice but to accept it.
“Sure.”
“I know you got a crush.”
Wyatt stiffened, alarm spreading through his limbs like wildfire. He was careful to keep his gaze away from Dr. Donnelly and hoped to hell his flushed cheeks wouldn’t give him away.
“Most of the nurses here think you’re cute and want your number. I, on the other hand, figured you had other priorities,” Steph tilted her head toward Dr. Donnelly. “It’s normal, I’ve seen it before. Plenty of residents tripping over themselves tryin’ to impress him. I get it. He’s something special, our Johnny, and we’ve never had a senior resident like him…” Steph hesitated, looking stern. “And if you keep lookin’ at him like that, he’s gonna notice, and so will the rest of the team. So, eyes down and chin up. Whatever you’re feelin’, I suggest you let it pass, all right?”
Wyatt was about to apologize, which would be somewhat of an admission, and stopped himself. He didn’t want there to be a whisper of anything connecting them because he couldn’t—wouldn’t—jeopardize Dr. Donnelly’s career.
Dr. Donnelly, too, had carefully evaded him all week and was only in the room long enough to make sure Wyatt wasn’t royally fucking up. In fact, he was giving him so much space that Reyes asked if they had a beef. Before, Wyatt had walked on pins and needles whenever he got too close to Dr. Donnelly. Now, he ached.
He pined like a kid at prom, hoping his crush would ask him out on the dance floor. Because, fuck, he couldn’t get their night together out of his head. All he wanted was for Dr. Donnelly to look at him longer than two seconds, but he intentionally kept an invisible wall between them.
Most of the time, Wyatt didn’t mind a one-and-done scenario, especially when he was in college. He had more time to explore, taste, sample, and take risks. Hookups were common, and forgetting names the next morning was normal. Now, it was taking everything in his power to keep himself away from the handsome older doctor with the sexiest crinkles around his eyes and the sluttiest glasses that he left at his workstation for paperwork.
And, fuck me, the sounds Donnelly made!
Wyatt couldn’t unhear it, letting it play on repeat in his head.
And the times he had to be close to Donnelly this week in the ED had been an unbearably sweet torture. Bumping shoulders with him, catching that faint musky scent, and hearing him reluctantly acknowledge his good work. He was even more addicted to Dr. Donnelly now, and it was getting damn near crippling how hard he sometimes got, having to run to the bathroom, hating how thin his scrubs were.
Every day after his shift this week, Wyatt would try to convince himself that the shower would scorch away remnants of his day and of Donnelly, but it never worked. He would usually end up masturbating under the hot spray, hearing those ragged, cock-inflating moans, and climaxing all over his fist within seconds, gasping under the water, needy for more.
He felt so fucking restless. Like a horse that needed a good hard run.
Wyatt wondered how many other residents had become ensnared by Donnelly’s soothing warmth as he had, and the only person who knew that was the short, curvy woman before him, her curly black hair pulled back in a thick ponytail, her face etched with the unbothered expression she wore daily.
“How many others?” Wyatt asked.
She smirked, “Oh, at least a couple dozen over the years.”
