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I peer up at Dr. Cherry, whose face is beginning to match the color of her namesake, and smile bigger before clicking through the patient list as fast as my index finger will go. "They should be soon."

Dr. Cherry glances at the screen over my shoulder and sighs. "Keep checking," she demands, laying the chart against the counter. "And I don't mean the ceiling."

Heat creeps up my neck. "The clock," I correct quietly—because apparently today I'm both impatient and stupid. The rest of my words come out almost inaudibly. "I was checking the clock."

"Yes," she says dryly. "I gathered that."

I press my lips together as she turns to walk away.

My shoulders fall from my ears as I finally exhale a full breath, my eyes immediately flying back toward the clock.

5:16.

My eyes sink shut as I attempt for the millionth time today to accept the fact that the time before Jace gets here will do nothing short of crawl.

I'm not entirely sure when he'll arrive—I don't even know when his flight is set to land back in Golden City. I haven't heard from him since before first pitch when he told me there was no set take off time because it can change depending on how things go with the game.

But the game ended one hundred and eighteen minutes ago.

Not that I'm counting.

Why I'm literally watching the clock, I couldn't even begin to explain.

But it's giving me something to do.

Something besides avoiding the supply closet—not because I don't need to stock more gauze or IV kit—but because I can't walk by it without getting turned on. Something that's not worrying about the chance he doesn't show or thinking about the way he said I wasn't single. Or about how Kent has called me twice since I declined his first call last night.

I shouldn't ignore him—that's not going to change the fact that he scanned the Alaska paperwork to me. Or that I need to sign it and send it back in order to confirm my contract starting with them next month.

But I am.

So, instead of completing the documents he sent in between patients—while I wait for Dr. Cherry's labs—I'm watching the clock like it's a new season of some bingeworthy show.

Inhaling slowly, I refresh the lab results page… again.

When there's still nothing, my gaze moves to the ER entrance. It's slow today, which is technically a good thing, but I still sinfully hope for someone to walk through the doors. I don't want anyone to be seriously injured—I'm not asking for a walk-in with severe needs or injuries or a devastating EMS arrival call that will completely uproot someone's life.

Just someone I can help for the next hour or two which I assume it'll take for Jace to get here.

"Whatchya doin'?" Dylan sings, coming up behind me.

"Waiting," I say. For him. "For Cherry's lab results."

Dylan groans. "You mean Dr. Needs-Her-Cherry-Popped? Isn't she the worst?"

I spin slowly toward my friend, wincing simultaneously. "Yes… but that was one visual I did not need."

She shrugs then turns and leans on the counter facing me. "I'm starving."

"Me too." For him. "But there's no way I can leave to get food until this bloodwork comes back."

"Cherry ruins everything," Dyl groans, and I laugh. But when she drops her head back, the view she exposes steals my breath.

Her head snaps forward, her eyes wide. "What just happened?" she whispers. Her gaze darts in either direction of my frozen body. "She's right behind me isn't she?"

I shake my head slowly.

Because it's not Dr. Cherry who's closer than expected.