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CHAPTER 12
Samantha
I’d spentthe rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday morning avoiding Evan and our unfinished conversation and the way he seemed to see into my mind and understand what being in HEAT was taking out of me. But as the team doctor, I couldn’t let any operative go into the field without a medical sign-off, and in his case in particular, I needed to make sure his wound was healing well.
He knocked on the partially open door of the medical suite. “You need to see me?”
He was so formal, which was absolutely appropriate, but it made me feel shitty and lonely and sorry for myself. I hoped that once tomorrow’s operation was over and Evan went back to his own life, my supercharged emotions would calm back down to a manageable level.
“I need to check your GSW.” I pointed to the exam table.
He grimaced as he sat on the table. “That makes it sounds like much more than it was. And Dr. Sloane put me on antibiotics and showed me how to change the dressing, so it’s fine.”
I nodded. “I have access to the medical file, but Sloane left three days ago and I need to update the file before the operation.” In keeping with our distant demeanor, I didn’t mention how much I needed to see for myself that he was fine.
I washed my hands, snapped on gloves, and pulled on my headlamp. I cut off his bandage and dressing, then inspected and prodded the wound. It was small, the flesh around it was pink and healthy, and there wasn’t the slightest hint of infection. “You’re a fast healer,” I said.
“I had a great doctor.”
I blushed, which was ridiculous, but I couldn’t control my autonomic nervous system.
“And like I said,” he shrugged, “it wasn’t much of a wound, despite it stinging like a sonofabitch.”
I applied ointment and a small adhesive bandage, skipping the larger dressing he no longer needed. “It should hurt. Human skin isn’t made to withstand lead.”
He grinned. “Thanks for making it okay for me to be such a pansy ass. I told you that Saturday, but I’m pretty sure you were asleep in the passenger seat at the time.”
“I slept through a lot that day.” I rolled away from him on my stool and pulled off my headlamp.
“Not the important parts,” he said. He sat still, watching me like he expected me to respond.
I didn’t rise to the bait. What could I say? That Saturday already felt like a lifetime ago, or worse, like a fever dream that had never really happened? That I had wanted—still wanted—a repeat of that night and the promise of spending dawn together, just the two of us, just one time?
Instead, I pulled off my gloves and told him, “You’re cleared for the field.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t move or say anything more.
I tried to employ patience and wait him out, but after a long, blood-pressure-raising minute, I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. “What?”
He arched an eyebrow. “We started a conversation yesterday and you feigned being too busy to finish it. But I have some time right now,” he glanced around the medical suite, “and no one is pounding down your door.”
My eyes widened and I blushed again, this time flushing hot with thoughts of what we could do in here alone together.
His wide eyes matched my own. “I meant we should talk.”
“I know, but I can’t help how I react to you. And as for the talk you want to have...” I blew out a long breath. “I said too much on Saturday. I didn’t mean to burden you with that. I didn’t think...”
“That we’d see each other again. I know. But here we are. And it’s no burden at all. Despite any stupid agreement we made, I like you, Samantha Bond, and I think you like me. We’re friends, if nothing else, and if you need to talk to a friend, I’m here.”
When he referred to our agreement as stupid, I didn’t know if he wished we hadn’t limited it to one night or if he regretted that our time together had happened at all. Watching him, his dilating pupils, parted lips, and shallow breaths, I thought it must be the former. But he’d also called me his friend. I had a lot of friends, a whole roster of them, and—just as I’d told myself last Saturday morning—Evan Prescott did not belong on that list.
“Thank you,” I told him. “I’ll keep it in mind.” I smiled, then picked up a pen and bent my head over his medical file.
“Okay,” he said softly. He touched the middle of my back as he walked past me, then closed the door quietly behind him.
I dropped my head to the desk and fought back tears and the well of emotions trying to push them to the surface like they had earlier this week. This time, I didn’t give in, but I did thank the universe that as of tomorrow, Evan and I would do what we were supposed to have done on Sunday. We would say goodbye. And in the same breath, I cursed the universe for the very same thing.
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