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Things I did not tell my best friend Keegan? Bennett is meeting Callan and Layla tonight. It’s not me bringing a guy to meet my guardians. It’s not. It’s me bringing the guy trying to knock me up to meet them. That’s all.
But until then, I should go home, sleep, and not take a test. Night shifts are rough enough, and I’ve been battling a case of food poisoning I got from some bad fish the other night. But if I’m not pregnant this time, I’m going to move out for a bit and maybe only sleep there when we’re actively trying and I’m ovulating.
Living with Bennett—roommates or not—is tempting my heart too much. Plus, it’s risky. We’ve nearly been caught too many times. He had me pinned in an old, unused lab the other day, and a few days before that, he fucked me against the glass of the gallery over an empty OR. And then, just a couple of days ago, he dragged me into an empty patient room and finger-fucked me to orgasm twice.
Plus he watches me constantly. I feel his eyes on me all the time, and eventually someone is going to notice.
Keegan offers me some of her drink and my stomach roils. I shake my head, puffing out my cheeks as if I’m about to boot. “No thanks.”
“Maybe you should eat something. Even just some crackers.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I seriously can’t. Tonight I’ll eat something at dinner. Some plain pasta, maybe.”
“You’re going to dehydrate.”
I pull up my sleeve and show her the IV I have capped off in my arm. When I first got sick, Bennett slept in my bed with me and took care of me all night. And when I started throwing up water, he panicked and put in an IV, making sure I got glucose and fluids.
“I don’t see fluids in there now.”
“I’ll do another round when I go home,” I promise her because I likely should. My blood sugars have been a mess since I got sick. “I had a few sips of a sports drink not too long ago.”
“Fine. I’ll stop mothering you. How’s it going with your secret lover?”
I roll my eyes and watch as a baby starts to squirm and then cry. One of the nurses comes over and picks him up, cuddling him to her chest. I want one. “How do you not want one of these?”
“Katy,” she demands. “You haven’t said anything about it to any of us. What’s the deal?”
I hitch up one shoulder. “There is no deal other than the deal we already have.”
“Are you still sleeping together?”
Thankfully my phone vibrates with a page, so I don’t have to answer her. I don’t want to hear the lecture. The one where she reminds me how crazy what I’m doing with Bennett is. I like having sex with him. He’s good at it and being with him that way is perfectly and undeniably convenient. It’s like trying to get pregnant with a bonus I never originally anticipated.
And the moment I’m pregnant, it’ll stop. Once that happens, everything will fall in line between us the way we’ve designed it to. We both know that. We both hope this is only borrowed time. So why not take advantage of it while we can?
It’s like Bennett said, he’s fucking me with his dick and not his heart, and every time he’s inside me, I remind myself of that.
“I gotta go,” I tell her, reading the stat page to the OR. “Some kind of construction site accident.”
“But you’re off,” she maintains. “They shouldn’t be paging you.”
I shrug. “They must need me, and I only got off ten minutes ago.” I pull away from the wall and head toward the stairs. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“You will, because tomorrow night we’re taking you out for dinner and you’re having a slumber party at our place,” she calls after me. “No exceptions.”
“Sounds awesome. I might seriously need it. Love you, Keegs!”
“Love you too, bitch.”
Someone nearby hisses at her, and I catch Keegan apologizing for her curse just as I open the door to the stairwell—no more freaking elevators for me—and fly up three flights, panting as I reach the trauma surgical floor. I have a headache and my stomach feels like a sponge someone keeps squeezing, but all that starts to fade as I enter the OR.
Holy hell.
“Great. You’re still here. I’m sorry to call you back, but we need all the hands we can get at the moment. Go get gowned and gloved up, but don’t worry about scrubbing in.”
I blink at Bennett and then over toward the patient who has a rusty metal rod straight through his stomach and some kind of tool stuck in his side. Bolting out of the room, I quickly throw on my scrub cap and booties, wash my hands, and then race back in. A nurse helps me gown up, and I snap on a pair of gloves even though I’m not sterile.
The patient is sitting up and intubated, and I come in beside Cricket, who is not pleased I’m here to help hold the patient upright. “What happened?” I ask. Two nurses are working on draping the patient and making the area as sterile as they can while me and another nurse hold the patient and gurney steady so he doesn’t move or shift even the slightest amount.
