Page 107 of A Really Bad Idea

My moment of silence is disturbed by the stairwell door being violently flung open. The steel hits the wall with a bang. Christian enters the landing, the door closing behind him as he grips his hair and looks to be hyperventilating.

I rise to my feet and run to him. “Christian!”

He stares at me like I’m a ghost. His arms hang idly at his sides while his eyes are wide and glazed. It takes a moment for him to come to his senses and realize it’s me standing here. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

The pause electrifies the air. My skin tingles, and the blood in my veins rushes to my chest.

With two fast and steady steps, Christian grips my head, pulls me into him, and sears me with a kiss.

I let him brand me.

He’s kissing me with desperation. There’s anger in the kiss and a whimper pouring from his lips when my tongue dances with his. I don’t know what this kiss is.

It’s desperate and powerful.

I tug the front of his scrubs and push him against the wall. My hands are now in his hair, and his fall to my waist, his fingers digging into my sides so much that they hurt.

He pulls away first, panting. Our chests are heaving as we catch our breaths.

His eyes are red and swollen.

Not from crying.

From fear.

“What happened?” I ask, afraid of what is about to come out of his mouth.

“She’s okay.” It doesn’t sound like he believes what he’s saying.

“Then, why are you looking at me like that?”

“I almost lost her.”

“But you didn’t—”

“No. She’s okay.” He shakes his head with his eyes trained on mine. “And all I kept thinking was how I had to save her for you. I was so worried about you.”

He kisses me again. I don’t even have a moment to comprehend what he’s saying or why he’s saying it. My mother is okay. She’s alive.

Whatever happened in that room has shaken Christian to his core. I hold him, pulling him into a hug. His head is buried in my neck as I rub his back, willing his body to relax and bring him back to the cool, calm, even downright cocky Dr. Gallagher demeanor.

When he’s unwound, he stands tall. He lays his hands on my face and caresses my cheeks.

“I needed you, and here you are,” he says.

“Funny, because I really needed you.” I smile. “And here you are.”

He kisses the inside of my palm; that kiss soars right to my chest, and it hurts. Hurts because I know now, for sure, I have to tell him how I feel.

We walk into the waiting room together. Christian tells Dad, Brian, and Beth how the surgery went. Dad cries tears of joy. Brian and Beth hug him, Brian giving an extra handshake to top it off.

“What do you say we go out tonight and celebrate?” Christian asks me when we’re out of earshot of my family. “There’s a great sushi place in the East Village one of the nurses was telling me about.”

A night out with Christian sounds fantastic.

“I can’t. I’m going to spend time with my family. Now that Mom’s in the intensive care unit, I might get Dad to come home with me. Sleep in a bed.”

He nods in understanding. “You’re right. You’re a good daughter.”