A few people from the emergency department recognized him on the way to the bar, and he stopped to say hi before pushing through the crowd, barely untangling himself from the nurses' table.
He exhaled a nervous breath once his hands reached for the sticky bar top, and the bartenders, two middle-aged women sporting tattoos and rocker vibes, were busy taking orders.
“Man, I swear if Tanya doesn’t get off my ass, I’m gonna have to switch back to night shift.”
He heard Dr. Samuels’s familiar tone, which at times held a hint of a Boston accent, and saw Donnelly sitting next to him, unaware that Wyatt was a mere foot away from him. Wyatt tried to rein in his fluttery nerves, but it was no fucking use when he was next to Donnelly.
“Oh, bureaucracy at its finest,” Donnelly said, taking a sip from his beer. “You haven’t been here long enough for her to already be hounding you. It must be your charm.”
“Must be.”
“Walsh would be thrilled to have you back on his night shift,” Donnelly commented drily.
Samuels snorted. “Key word—his. That man is terrifying. I swear he enjoys chaos—like,likesit. The crazy bastard wants the blood, guts, and gore.”
“C’mon, weren’t we all like that at one point in our careers?” Donnelly challenged with a smirk.
“He’s our fuckin’ age. Grow up, man. Find a hobby—somethin’. Don’t let your life be the ED. I’ve only seen him one time here, and he’s—he’s fuckin’ mean, man.”
Donnely snorted a delicious laugh, his large hand clasping the amber bottle as he tilted it up by the neck and took another sip. “He’s not that bad. I like his company. Sometimes. Just gotta know how to work around the frayed, slightly crazy edges.”
“You say that like it’s easy. Which makes sense, because it’s you.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” Donnelly asked.
“I think you know.”
“I don’t,” Donnely replied, his tone shifting to an unexpected defensiveness.
“Look, man, I ain’t sayin’ this to be mean, I’m sayin’ it outta love. But you gotta know when to quit. You spend too much time on lost causes and not enough on the lives that can be saved. It’s gonna catch up, and when it does, it’s gonna hurt. I feel like every time I turn around, you're in the grief room because of it.”
“I’m the senior attending, Sam. That’s what we do.”
“No,” Samuels said firmly. “You don’t delegate. You take on too much when you have me and a dozen other fully capable doctors who can be the bearer of bad news. It doesn’t have to be you every time, brother.”
Donnelly’s hand reached for the back of his neck, gripping and rubbing, his right shoulder slightly higher than the other, and Wyatt's eyes sharpened over him.
“Some of the residents aren’t ready for that,” Donnelly replied coolly.
“Bullshit.”
Donnelly stiffened.
“That’s just an excuse to not ask for help.”
“I don’t need help,” Donnelly retorted. “I’m fine.”
Samuels paused, assessing him with those cool, dark green eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
Something passed between the two older doctors that Wyatt couldn’t see, and for a split second, he thought they were maybe having a moment. Was it a romantic moment? Wyatt nearly leaned over the bar to look, but forced himself to keep his boots firmly planted on the damned floor.
“I’m done hounding you,” Samuels patted Donnelly affectionately on the back. “I’m glad you finally decided to join us tonight. It’s nice seeing you in the land of the living.”
Donnelly scoffed, “I came out last month.”
“No, you didn’t. We’ve hung out approximately five times outside the ED since I moved out here eight months ago.”
Wyatt frowned at not being able to read Donnelly’s expression. He was always better at reading between the lines and seeing what people said with their bodies rather than their words. It annoyed Wyatt that he hadn’t figured out Donnelly yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he did.
