When I looked at my wristwatch again, I saw that my break was nearly up. I’d been sitting in the nurses’ staff station for the past fifteen minutes, munching on a granola bar and sipping a cup of lukewarm coffee. I hadn’t finished either of them and now I emptied the remnants of the coffee down my throat quickly. I wasn’t exactly hungry or thirsty, but I needed the energy.

It was nearly midnight now, which meant that the hospital was operating on half the staff and we were all on emergency standby. After working as a nurse for the past three years, anyone would have assumed that I had gotten used to the midnight emergency shifts, but the truth was, I hadn’t. Despite my lack of energy, I still loved the job. Every day at the hospital was a hurdle and made me appreciate life. I was glad for the opportunity to be able to help people, and I knew that it was my only chance to experience something other than the cookie-cutter life that my parents had planned out for me.

I sighed as I sat on the metal chair for the last two minutes of my break. I was thinking more and more about my life outside the hospital, these days. How I had been a model daughter to my parents for all my life. How I had followed every rule set down for me by my parents, and how they were proud of their well-mannered daughter, in the polite society that they mingled with.

Working as a nurse was my little revolution. They couldn’t imagine the blood and the gore and the kind of scenes that occurred in the hospital on a daily basis. My parents imagined their daughter spending her days chit-chatting with kindly old ladies on their hospital beds, or cracking jokes with the other nurses in the break room. They had no idea that their little daughter was capable of holding a grown man down, while a doctor set back his dislocated shoulder with a crack.

But it wasn’t enough, was it? This pretense that I was happy leading a picture-perfect life outside the hospital. I wished I could explain to my parents that I wanted to live a life of adventure.

The alarm on my digital wristwatch beeped, signaling the end of my break and I stood up from the chair with a start. Depositing the empty cup and the half-eaten granola bar in the bin, I stepped out of the staff room, at the same instant that the doors of the hospital at the end of the corridor burst open.

I was on alert immediately, feeling the rush of adrenaline course through my veins, and I rushed towards the group of three EMTs who were rolling in a man on a wheeled stretcher. Someone had called for a doctor, and Doctor Mason who was on call came running down the corridor towards the group.

The EMTs were explaining to Doctor Mason that the man had suffered a gunshot wound to the abdomen, and my eyes fell on the patient. He was shirtless, which was a good thing…that someone had thought of removing most of his clothing.

He was a muscular, tanned man, with chiseled six pack abs and intricate tattoos covering his chest. His bronze skin glistened with sweat, his muscles were taut, and his biceps bulged as he tried to sit up on the cart. I was surprised he was still awake with the amount of blood that was most likely lost.

“Hold him down, he needs to be wheeled into surgery,” I heard Doctor Mason’s voice, and he turned to me.

“Nurse Peters, good, please prep him, Surgery room three,” Doctor Mason said, before rushing past me to get ready for the operation.

I ran over to the stretcher, my expert eyes scanning his body and his gunshot wound. The bullet was lodged in him, and he was already losing a lot of blood. The problem now could be that he hadn’t been brought to the hospital right away, which could raise complications.

His broad shoulders shook as he grunted and tried to sit up again. My instinct was to reach for him, and I placed my hands on his shoulders and applied a gentle pressure.

“You need to stay down,” I said to him as gently as I could. I expected resistance, but instead, I found that he was sinking back on the stretcher. I looked over at his face, noticing his handsome, masculine features for the first time. His eyes were a dark hazel color, and they appeared bloodshot and intense as he stared back at me. A dark trimmed beard was on his cheeks and jaws, and along with that, he had shoulder length dark hair that was ruffled…adding to his scruffy look.

He was the type of man I had always admired and fantasized about from a distance…but he was the kind of man, who was inappropriate for me by my family’s standards. But holy hell was he hot.

We were rushing down the corridor in convoy, bursting through doors and finally into the operating room. My hands were still gently pressed against his shoulders, in an attempt to keep him in position.

The EMTs were getting ready to leave, and I looked up through the glass partition to find that Doctor Mason was prepping for the surgery already. I moved my hands away, a little nervous to assist in this particular operation. I was afraid that my sudden strange attraction to this man could affect my performance in this surgery. I could feel a weakness in my knees, especially given the fact that he was still staring at me.

I stepped away from him, and he suddenly reached for my wrist and yanked me back towards him. Despite the bullet in his abdomen, the blood loss…the man was crazy strong. I nearly gasped but gathered myself almost immediately. I thought I saw a flash of worry in his bloodshot eyes, and I forced a smile on my face.

“Everything will be fine. You’re in good hands,” I whispered.