It’s a slow night in the ER at San Francisco Memorial. That used to be a blessing, but now it feels like a bit of a curse. I come to work now for more than a paycheck or professional fulfillment. Now it’s a place to hide. A place to get my mind off my problems and get a reprieve from my family. And when it’s not busy, I can’t escape—the dark thoughts in my head or the constant texts from my mom, my sisters, my brother, and my sister-in-law.

I glance at the clock above the nurse’s station. Ugh. It’s nine-forty. My shift only started two and a half hours ago, and I’m here until seven in the morning. I sigh as my phone dings in my pocket yet again. So far I’ve been ignoring it. I checked one message—the first—and it was just Winnie bitching about her boyfriend. It’s gone off three more times since then, so I assume it’s still her unloading all her frustration with Ty.

I glance at it now, though, just to be sure. We’re not supposed to be on our phones, but they let me check it occasionally because they know my dad is sick. Just as I thought, there’s more than one from Winnie, all complaining about Ty. But then there’s one from Dixie. Short, in all caps:

My heartbeat seems to stumble as I read it. Dixie, my youngest sister, does not take all caps lightly. Something is wrong, and I immediately think of my dad. The last couple of months since Jude’s wedding he’s been in a steady decline. I glance up. I’m the only one at the station. I can see Shelda, a friend and fellow nurse, at the end of the hall, and there’s a doctor in one of the triage rooms stitching up a woman who almost chopped the tip of her thumb off cutting mushrooms. Our other patient, an elderly man who slipped in the bathtub and was brought in for observation by his nursing home, is resting comfortably in another room. I sink down into the chair and start to type back.

The last time I talked to Dixie, earlier this morning, she was heading to the Thunder game to watch Jude and Eli play. Did she decide to skip the game and go visit our parents?

The doors from the ambulance bay swing open, and a paramedic pushes a gurney in with Eli on it. Holy shit! I rush around the counter.

“Oh, my God, what happened?” I gasp. My voice is not at all that of a professional nurse, but my brain is acting the part as my eyes sweep over him looking for visible trauma. I don’t see anything—no blood, no protruding bone, no laceration.

“He’s a hockey player,” a deep, smooth voice starts to explain, and I expect it to be the paramedic but it’s not. It’s a man in a nicely tailored charcoal suit. A very good-looking man. Tall and broad with olive skin, a roman nose, thick, dark hair, intense brown eyes, and a strong, stubbled jaw. Seriously, if I had a bucket list of male features, this man would check every one. “He was knocked out on the ice.”

Eli gives me a sheepish smile. “Do you remember what happened?” I ask him.

“We were up two to one in the third, but they had a power play,” he says, and I frown. He’s not exactly answering my question, which means he doesn’t remember being hit. Not a great sign.

“Put him in room four,” I tell the paramedic, and he nods and starts to push the gurney down the hall.

“Dixie is on her way. Tell her I’m fine,” Eli calls out.

The very handsome guy who came in with Eli pauses beside me instead of following him. He smells incredible—citrusy and woodsy all at once—and it makes me feel warm when I breathe it in. “Dixie is his girlfriend. She was at the hockey game, and I’m betting she’s very upset.”

“She is. She used all caps,” I reply, and those penetrating caramel colored eyes cloud over with confusion. He looks even cuter confused.

“Dixie is my sister.” I extend my hand. “I’m Sadie.”

“Hello, Sadie,” he says, and his full lips break into a deep, wide smile that make him so sexy I want to whistle. I bite my bottom lip to keep from cat-calling him to his pretty little face and wonder why my professional demeanor went on break early. “I’m Griffin, the Thunder’s goalie coach.”

“Oh, I thought Eli’s coach was named Sully,” I say, because I remember Eli telling our dad about his new goalie coach at Sunday dinner last week.

“That’s me too,” he explains. “Griffin Sullivan.”

“Of course. Hockey is all about the nicknames,” I reply, and he chuckles. It’s a nice, deep sound that makes me feel warm again.

The doors swing open, and my little sister rushes through them, looking frantic. I glance at Griffin. “You can go be with Eli. I’ll calm her down and then bring her in.”

He nods and starts to walk away. I can’t help but watch him go, and I feel a little delighted flutter when I see him give me an extra glance over his shoulder before he disappears into Eli’s room.

I hug Dixie as soon as she’s within arm’s reach. “He’s okay.”

“He was knocked out!” she explains in a strained voice. “As in completely unconscious!”

“He was alert and talkative when they brought him in,” I reply and give her another squeeze. “We’ll do tests.”

“Do all the tests. Whatever it takes to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion or a brain bleed or an aneurysm or—” Dixie replies and pulls back from me.

“You need to stop watching medical dramas, Dix,” I tell her softly. “We will do all the tests. MRIs, blood work, x-rays, hell, we’ll even check his cholesterol if you want.”

She almost smiles at that, but the look in her light blue eyes is still filled with worry. “I need to see him.”

“Of course.” I keep my arm wrapped around her waist as I guide her toward the hall leading to the rooms. “His new goalie coach came in with him. He’s kind of delicious.”

Dixie’s eyebrows rise. “Really? He must be downright stunning if you’re able to see it.”

“What does that mean?” I ask as we turn the corner and make our way to Eli’s room.

“You haven’t noticed a guy in years,” Dixie replies. “I was beginning to think your libido had died an early death or something.”

“Oh, come on, it’s not that big a deal,” I reply a little defensively. “I just haven’t exactly been getting out and meeting people.”

“You work in a huge hospital. I’m sure there are hot doctors here,” Dixie retorts. “Like at least one McDreamy or McSteamy.”

“Again, lay off the medical dramas,” I snap back. I usher her into the room. Her eyes land on Eli, and any thoughts about my lack of a love life are forgotten. She rushes to his bedside, and tears tumble from her eyes.

“I’m okay,” Eli promises, reaching up and caressing the side of her face. “I swear, this is just protocol.”

“You weren’t moving at all,” she counters softly.

“I was napping,” Eli jokes and winks. “You kept me up too late last night.”

“Okay, you two…” I interrupt and glance at Griffin, who is in the corner of the room looking amused. “I’d bet money you have a concussion, but the doctor will be able to tell us the degree of severity. I’ll call Dr. Luongo in neuro for a consult.”

“Thanks, Sadie,” Eli says.

“Yes, thank you,” Griffin adds, and Dixie looks up and sees him there for the first time. Her eyes do a quick sweep, and then her head immediately swivels to me and widen in approval, as if to say You’re right. He’s hot. It’s about as smooth as a cactus. I’m mortified by her obviousness.

“Dixie, this is Griffin Sullivan, Eli’s goalie coach,” I say.

“Hi. I’ve seen you around, but we haven’t officially met. Eli has said a lot of positive things about you,” Dixie explains and walks around the bed to shake his hand. “I’m Dixie Braddock.”

Griffin shakes her hand, but his eyes dart to me quickly as he adds, “Braddock? Like Jude Braddock?”

His deliciously dark eyes find mine again, and I shrug. “Yep. The Thunder’s little superstar is lucky enough to call us his sisters.”

Griffin laughs again. “And the plot thickens.”

There’s a vibe between us so strong it’s electric. At least it feels that way…But maybe it’s only wishful thinking. Man, he is seriously handsome. And charismatic. And sexy. I love the easy smile parting his lips and the warm glow in his eyes, the five o’clock shadow shading his strong, angular jawline, the way he is filling out that suit…

“So the tests?” Dixie’s voice pulls me away from the list I’m making. “All of them? Now.”

I blink, trying to ground myself in reality again, and nod. “I’m on it. I’ll send Shelda in to get his vitals while I call for the consult.”

I turn and leave the room. Shelda is walking toward me. “I heard your sister’s boyfriend is here?”

Of course she heard already. Shelda is that little birdie that flutters around the hospital hearing and seeing everything. She’s not a gossip or busybody, by any means; she’s just been working here since she was sixteen, first as a candy striper and now as a nurse, and everyone knows her, loves her, and talks to her about everything. She’s my favorite head nurse in this place and a dream to work under.

“I hope that handsome devil isn’t too banged up,” Shelda adds, and I smile.

“He’s probably got a concussion. I’m going to call for a consult. Can you go in and take his vitals?” Shelda nods. “Oh, and if Dixie gets too…Dixie-ish, feel free to kick her out. She’s a bit of a bossy control freak in a crisis.”

Shelda lets out a breezy laugh. “No worries, sugar. I can handle overbearing girlfriends and wives in my sleep.”

She pats my shoulder as she passes by on her way to the room.

I head to the desk and call for a consult, mentioning it’s also a personal favor if they can get here as soon as possible because it’s a family member. Dr. Luongo shows up less than five minutes later. He’s one of the first doctors I met here, and he’s one of my favorites. Tall, lanky, with curly salt-and-pepper hair, a friendly smile, and a quick wit.

“Hey, Sadie, is it your dad?” he asks, concern flooding his deep voice.

“No. My sister’s boyfriend,” I reply. “He’s the goalie for the Thunder and he got knocked out during the game.”

“Ah,” Dr. Luongo sighs. “That definitely sounds like a concussion, but let’s see how bad it is. Room?”

“Four.” I point and force myself not to follow. Although Eli’s not technically family, he’s close enough that I wouldn’t be considered unbiased so I shouldn’t get involved in his case. I’ll let Shelda handle it.

I walk down the hall to check on the elderly patient in room two. He’s asleep and his vitals are stable, his IV full. As I make my way out of his room, Griffin is standing in the hall outside Eli’s room, his cell phone to his ear. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but he looks pissed. His jaw is clenched, and his brow is pinched. Still gorgeous, though. I bite my bottom lip to keep myself from laughing at my reaction. Seriously, it’s like I’ve never seen a hot guy before.

He glances up and sees me, and I quickly wipe the smile off my face and head around the corner to the front desk. Hopefully I didn’t look like a weird stalker or something, just standing there staring at him. A second later, he’s standing on the other side of the desk.

“The doctor’s been in there a while,” he says to me, clearly concerned.

“Don’t worry, he’s probably being extra cautious because I told him Eli was family,” I explain and smirk. “Or else my little sister is asking him a million questions and demanding a million unnecessary tests. It’s probably a combination of both.”

He laughs. “I think it’s sweet that she’s so…”

“High-strung? Dramatic? Intense?”

He grins at me, clearly delighted by my adjectives, and I swear the room gets brighter. And I get warmer. “I was going to say in love,” he says. “She loves him very much to be that concerned and it’s beautiful. Eli’s a lucky man.”

“Huh…a sensitive, insightful hockey player.” I give him a sassy wink. “Now that’s a real plot twist.”

Dr. Luongo turns the corner and joins us at the nurses’ station. “I’m going to have him sent up for a CAT scan, and you can get him a room. He’s definitely spending the night. It’s precautionary, but he started getting nauseous so we should keep him here, wake him up every hour and keep him hydrated.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dr. Luongo.”

He leans on the desk and smiles. “I’ve told you before. It’s Bob.”

“Thank you, Bob. I owe you one.”

“You can get me one of those fancy lattes next time we run into each other at the diner next door,” he tells me with a grin. “I think they’re ridiculously overpriced and won’t pay for them myself, but I do accept gifts.”

I laugh as he heads toward the elevators. I turn back to Griffin. “He’s the best in city and he isn’t all the worried about Eli, so you don’t have to be.”

He nods, but he seems like he has something more to say. I wait and watch as he dips his head a little and he rubs the back of his neck, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t what I expected. “The best doctors are paid in fancy lattes. Who knew? Of course I’d take my pay in lattes too if they were delivered by you.”

A blush blooms on my cheeks, and I suddenly realize I must look so dowdy right now. I never wear makeup to work, and my ash blond hair is always pulled back into a ponytail. I smooth the sides self-consciously and react the only way I know how to a compliment, with a joke. “I should tell the Thunder you said that. They could use your salary to increase my brother’s paycheck or Eli’s.”

“Are you a nurse or a sports agent?”

“Last time Jude signed a big contract, he took the entire family to Bora Bora, so really I’m just a selfish sister,” I reply and wink.

“Well, I think—” He stops as his cell phone buzzes in his hand. He glances at the screen, silences it, and shoves it in his pocket. “I wish I could stay, but I have to get going.”

“That’s okay, like I said Eli is in good hands and he’ll likely be fine,” I assure him, but I’m disappointed he’s leaving.

“I’m sure he will be.” Griffin nods. “He’s not the reason I was hoping to stay.”

Dixie comes running down the hall. “He just threw up! All over himself.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth because it must have made her nauseous too, but despite that the look in her eyes is pure fear. I step out from behind the counter. “Nausea is a symptom of a concussion, Dix. It’s okay. I mean it’s gross, but he’s not dying. I’ll go clean it up.”

I head toward the supply room to grab new sheets and the plastic receptacle I lovingly call a barf bucket. I glance over my shoulder at Griffin, and he walks toward me. “I don’t want to keep you, but is there any way I can get updates on him? Since I have to go. I mean, I’m not family but—”

“We can call you,” Dixie offers, interjecting herself into what feels like our moment.

“Dixie will probably just spend half the night snoring by his bedside, so it’s probably best if I keep you updated,” I volunteer and Dixie, who was on the brink of looking offended, suddenly clues in and smiles.

“Totally. Good idea,” Dixie agrees and turns to Griffin. “I’ll give you her number while she goes to clean up the love of my life and then you can text her so she has yours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Griffin says and looks at me again, pinning me with that lovely, intense stare of his. “I look forward to hearing from you.”

I just smile and force my legs to take me down the hall. The last thing I want to do right now is clean up barf, but at least I got his number…even if it’s for professional reasons…Technically.