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“Yeah, I … I think I know that.” I drop my gaze again, because I can’t seem to face him for much longer. Being with him, at this moment, together in the warm silence of the library, I want to kiss him. I want to lean over the table and press my lips to his, hold onto him until I feel secure again, safe. Matt has always given me that impression … security. It’s a comforting thought.
I want to tell him everything, I really do. I want to tell him that I’ve already been with Dereck and Bryce, and that it was a mistake because my intention was never to hurt any of them, not at all.
But I’m afraid to tell him anything. Afraid of how he’ll react.
And I realize right then that the reason I’m afraid of how he’ll react is because I might have feelings for him, too.
No, scratch that. I definitely have feelings for Matthew Nelson, and the feelings I have for him are just as intense and overwhelming as the feelings I have for his friends.
And it’s clear now, as I slowly pull my hand out from under his, trying not to get lost in the dark, shadowy eyes, that this man sitting in front of me is the third and final nail in my inevitable coffin.
I havean early morning shift rotation at the hospital the next day, and I’m awake by four thirty so I can get to the ER in time to do rounds before I have to be ready for class. I stayed up too late so I’m exhausted, and every passing second quietly berates me for thinking I could handle boy drama, class, and work all in one.
“Heads up, Bates, we have multiple fire victims en route,” Doctor Shaffer calls to me. “Fire department is bringing them in.”
“Got it.” I pulled some gloves on over the sleeve of my gown and followed Doc Shaffer to the ambulance bay where an enormous fire truck was rolling up, lights flashing. An ambulance was already parked, and two people got out. One of them was a woman I didn’t know and the other one was Bryce.
“I was wondering when I’d see you here,” Bryce says with a grin, pulling open the back of the bus doors to unload the first patient. “This is Samantha Daniels, thirty-three years old. She’s got second-degree burns on her arms and torso, but breathing has been stabilized. She had plenty of smoke inhalation when the building went up.”
“What kind of building?”
“An apartment building. There are two more buses in route.”
“Second bus ETA is three minutes,” says a rough, familiar voice. I freeze, turning on my heel to see a firefighter jump out of the truck. He’s dressed in full bunker gear and I almost don’t recognize him beneath the dark ash that tints his face. My eyes widen.
“Matt.”
