Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
The entire nurses' station goes silent. I see Katie’s jaw literally drop, her pen rolling off the counter and clattering to the floor. Mick doesn't notice. He doesn't look at the interns whispered-gasping or the security guard who’s suddenly standing a lot straighter. He only looks at me.
"You look tired, trouble," he says, stopping a few feet away. His voice is a low rumble that vibrates right through the floorboards and into the soles of my shoes. His eyes, dark and heavy with a warmth that makes my knees feel like they’ve been replaced by wet cardboard, track the movement of my hands as I clench the discharge papers.
"It’s all your fault," I manage to say. "I didn’t have more than six hours sleep all weekend long." I’m not really complaining. It was the best weekend I’ve ever had.
"I don’t remember you complaining," he says, leaning over to kiss the side of my cheek. "I figured you hadn't eaten. And I wanted to see you."
“Can’t go more than a couple of days without seeing me. You’ve got it bad Micky boy.”
“That I do.” He winks at me. He must’ve gone straight from his game to the late night deli to grab dinner for me. It warms me from the inside out and I realize how sweet Mick McLinden really is.
I glance back at the station. Katie is practically vibrating with curiosity, and two other nurses are leaning so far over the desk they’re in danger of falling.
"Follow me to the break room," I say, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him toward the back hallway.
The break room is mercifully empty, the air smelling of stale coffee and burnt popcorn. The moment the door swings shut, cutting off the fluorescent glare of the hallway, Mick drops the deli bag on the Formica table and pulls me into him. He doesn't wait. He doesn't ask. He just wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me with a desperation that matches mine. I fist my hands in his hoodie, pulling him closer, needing the solid, heavy weight of him against me to steady the world. My head falls back against the plastic of the machine as he moves to my neck, his stubble scraping against my sensitive skin in a way that makes me whimper his name.
“God. I needed that.”
"Me, too," I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes searching mine with a terrifying amount of honesty. "I couldn’t wait any longer to see you. I missed you so fucking much."
I reach up, cupping his face, my thumb tracing the line of his jaw. The vulnerability in his voice hits me harder than the kiss did. This is the man who leads a team of giants, who takes hits that would break a normal person, and he’s standing in a hospital break room at midnight admitting he’s afraid of losing me. It’s the most terrifying, beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
"I missed you too," I say, and for the first time, the words don't feel like a risk. They feel like a fact. "I was actually thinking about how much I hated that I missed you."
He lets out a rough, relieved laugh and kisses me again, slower this time. He tastes like ginger ale and stubbornness. When he finally lets me slide back down to my feet, my scrubs are wrinkled and I’m pretty sure my hair looks like I’ve been caught in a wind tunnel. I feel soft. I feel seen. I feel like the version of myself that doesn't have to manage everything from behind a wall.
"Eat," he commands, gesturing to the bag. He pulls out a sandwich wrapped in foil that’s still warm. "I called Harper to find out what you liked. She told me you can’t resist a Sub Shop Pastrami."
"I’m impressed." I mutter, taking the sandwich. I sit on the edge of the table, my legs swinging. "You’re very thorough, Captain."
"I play to win, MIa. Scouting reports are essential," he says, leaning against the counter and watching me with a steady, proprietary gaze. He just watches me take a bite, his expression one of pure, unadulterated satisfaction. It’s the look of a man who has brought his person exactly what they needed, and the simplicity of it makes my throat tight.
“Would you move in with me?” His words cause me to nearly choke on the bite of sandwich.
I swallow and take a sip of diet coke. “What?”
“Think about it.” He goes into negotiation mode. “Living with me solves our problems. Our busy schedules won’t keep us apart.”
It makes sense but I’m still scared. Scared of getting my heart stomped on. “This is moving fast.”
Mick steps back into my space, his hands resting on the table on either side of my hips, hedging me in. He leans down until we’re eye to eye. "Not fast enough for me. I don't do anything halfway, Mia. If I’m in, I’m all in. You’re the one I want to see when I wake up and the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep."