Why am I standing here? I told myself I was gonna wait this out in the staff room until someone dragged me out from my feeble attempt to hide behind the curtains or something. Instead, I’m out here with all the other “Captain America” groupies and fans.

Like Mack is just some guy I know from watching news footage of him kicking a grenade across the sand. Like I’m just another cheap girl in a crowd of cheap girls, trying to be noticed. Like we don’t have real history. Like we don’t have real love.

Didn’t have, I mean. Of course we don’t still have love. When he left me for West Point ten years ago, I was left wondering if we ever did.

I look over at the ladies in the hoard of people and instantly regret my stupid decision to not wear make-up today. I wanted to look professional, not like I was trying to get a date. Next to these girls I look like a corpse with my dull skin and my hair in a simple bun. I smooth my hands over my uniform and fold my arms around my body as I watch Mack push his chair toward the front doors.

Suddenly some idiot jumps over the barricade and moves toward Mack. When he stands up to greet the guy, everyone around me erupts into fervent cheering. Like he’s some kinda rock star.

More like a cock star. If the stuff I found out on the internet about him is even half true, he’s gonna sleep his way through the women in this crowd two or three at a time. Not that I’m stalking him or anything. Just checking up, that’s all. Besides, from the look of these women, I don’t think they’ll mind being Mack’s toy for a night. There’s so much cleavage being thrust toward him; I’m surprised they aren’t begging him to sign their boobs with a sharpie by now.

It’s not like I care, but it’s just kinda skanky if you ask me.

Now that Mack’s standing, I can see his tattoos smothering every inch of his arms. There’s some sort of flowers etched across his neck, peeping out from under his tight shirt. Not exactly the young man who left Colorado after grad.

Only Mack Forrester could lose his leg and still swagger back into my life and make my heart stop.

Tattoos or not, I remember what every inch of that hard body looks like naked. My pulse pounds in my ears and heat rises in me like mercury in a thermometer. I don’t mean to let my eyes drift over his cut biceps and down over the pronounced ripples in his shirt announcing his glorious abs to the world. It’s not like I want to notice the curve of his tight ass and the bulge of his ….

I snap my eyes back up to his face and he’s staring right into my eyes.

I.Can.Not.Breathe.

The air hisses from my lungs as I’m caught in the hypnotic trance of his blue eyes. So, I guess not that much has changed after all. The old feeling of butterflies erupts inside my chest, and even though their wings must be coated in dust after lying dormant for so long, they feverishly flurry around my heart.

I’m sure it’s only a second. Hell, it’s probably less than that, but I swear I can see an eternity in his crystal blue eyes. The moment of recognition that turned to lust and then, something deeper and truer than that. It’s like the roadmap of our past playing out in a single glance. When he finally looks away and I remember to actually fill my lungs again, I realize there’s a part of me that hopes it’s the roadmap to our future as well.

Part of me, all of me. Who’s keeping track, right?

A firm hand on my shoulder nearly makes me jump out of my skin. I stifle a yelp as I wheel around to face Shannon. Somehow I manage to keep my eyes from rolling. Somehow I keep my mouth from tugging down at the corners. It’s not that Shannon is the most annoying or the most incompetent nurse I’ve ever dealt with.

Oh wait, no, that’s exactly it.

“Sorry to interrupt, Lauren,” her face denies that she’s feeling anything at all. Sympathy or otherwise. “I need you for a second inside.” Her flat, robotic voice has a way of cutting through the noise around me and sucking the jubilation out of the moment.

Shannon. With her flat, bobbed hair plastered against the side of her head and her large, sad eyes she always makes me think of what Eeyore would look like in a nurse costume.

“Can it wait?” I manage to smile and can almost feel my fake happiness being sucked into the black hole that is her personality. “I have to give the tour in ten minutes.” I jerk my thumb over my shoulder to the scene behind me and she looks up like she’s just noticed the hundreds of people and cameras for the first time.

“No, sorry. I need you to sign off on Mr. Brookfield’s discharge papers or he won’t be able to leave in time to get to the airport. His wife is getting all upset. It’ll probably take less than ten minutes though.” She throws a bone of hope at me, but I know it’s a lie. Nothing in nursing takes ten minutes. However, there’s not much I can do. I knew I had to get that paperwork finished up this morning, I guess I just got distracted.

I glance over my shoulder one last time at my distraction. I’m normally diligent about crossing my t’s and dotting my i’s, but I think given the circumstances that forgetting Mr. Brookfield’s papers is understandable. A group of young women start screaming like teen groupies, as if to confirm my story.

I look back into Shannon’s dead eyes and sigh. “Ok, let’s go.”