John had been initially surprised to discover he even had a type, but Ben told him briefly that it was normal and not taboo in the gay community to date people of different ages.
His mind flashed briefly to the moment he touched Lawson’s shoulder today—the hard feel of muscles and natural strength beneath his scrubs. His brilliant pale, almost gray blue eyes searched John’s body before awkwardly fumbling away, with a bright blush on his cheeks after John had touched him…
Stop it.
Hooking up with a resident under your watch is out of the question.
Ben was different because I rarely saw him.
I see Lawson every damned day.
He knocked back the rest of the contents of his whiskey, squashing all thoughts of Lawson.
He waved down the bartender for another drink, deciding to get drunk at the bar. When he was ready, he would head up to his hotel room, alone, jerk off into his fist under the hot spray of the luxurious hotel shower, and pass out.
His shoulder ticked.
Sounds like a great fucking night.
Chapter 2
Wyatt
The club lights sparkled and bounced off the crowded dance floor, and the music pulsed with a steady beat, but Wyatt heard none of it.
He really, really didn’t want to be here.
He wanted to be in his dark room, finishing off a beer before promptly passing out.
Today was a long day.
He had been training as a junior resident emergency medicine doctor for the past six months at Saint Sierra hospital, alongside some of the most qualified and insanely skilled doctors in all of LA. He had transferred from a slower rural hospital, fearing that his skills as a doctor were stagnating. So, when he was accepted as a transfer to this hospital, he was both terrified and excited.
And he loved every minute of it.
Well, almost.
The projectile vomiting was never fun. Or the deaths, which came often despite how much he tried to save his patients. He was slowly becoming less uncomfortable with death, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to bear, depending on the patient.
“Approximately seven to eight thousand people die in the US daily, Lawson. You are inevitably a part of that cycle in that your job is to save lives. So, try not to take it personally when the statistic, or God, or the universe does what it inevitably does. And if you do, well, remember, you’re doing the best you can,and in the end, sometimes that’s all that matters.” Dr. Donnelly had reassured him six months ago.
Preacher don’t fear the Reaper.
Come on baby, don’t fear the Reaper…
Wyatt hummed the tune in his mind, thinking back to the day he first arrived at Saint Serria Hospital. Dr. Donnelly’s hand had captured his shoulder firmly, the way he would often do now in passing, as if his touch was a way to check on his residents, followed by direct, almost penetrating eye contact, assessing them quickly as he moved through the ED.
That day, Dr. Donnelly’s deep blue eyes were brimming with compassion for not only the deceased patient, whom they stood vigilantly over, but also for Wyatt because he couldn’t save them.
“You are enough even when you think you aren’t. Death can remind us of our mortality, and as a doctor, our flaws. Compassion for yourself, too, is necessary,” Dr. Donnelly had said to him softly. Gently even.
Wyatt had experienced plenty of egotistical, dickhead doctors and professors as a student and now as a resident. He had assumed it was simply part of the profession. Empathy and the grueling work of being a doctor could, at times, be a hard line to straddle. He understood why a lot of assholes chose this job, they saw people as machines rather than human beings.
So, when Dr. Donnelly met him that day with kindness and compassion, Wyatt nearly gaped in surprise at the older man.
He hadn’t anticipated a senior emergency medicine doctor being so… sensitive.
“Keep doing good work,” Dr. Donnelly had continued to say, smiling warmly at Wyatt, the crinkles around his eyes deepening as he brushed a hand onto his back.
