Most of my days at the hospital, I play a waiting game.

As a trauma surgeon in training, I oversee the rehab and recovery plans created for the patient after performing surgery, but there is also a lot of down time and paperwork. Today, I’m using that as an excuse to hide in the office with my head on the desk.

I couldn’t sleep for shit last night, and even underneath the assault of an ice-cold shower I couldn’t escape thoughts of him. I checked my phone obsessively, hoping that maybe he would want to sneak away from the hospital and slip into my bedroom.

It’s selfish of me, but family isn’t something I understand like a normal person.

Even though I told Dr. Peterman I wanted to be pulled off Hank’s case, I’m dying to go to his room and see what’s going on. More like dying to see that mountain of a man again.

As I turn the corner of the hallway, I notice two men sitting outside the door. They look like bodyguards, big, ripped, tatted and scary. Dressed in their leather cuts, they’re definitely here to send a message.

“Hey, guys,” I say, pretending like their presence is a normal everyday occurrence. “How’s he doing today?”

“Ugly, whiny, and high on pain medication,” one laughs. “So pretty much normal.”

I extend my hand to him. “Dr. Sullivan.”

His eyes get wide and I look at him, confused.

“You’re the lady doctor.”

“Sure.” I shrug. “And who are you?”

They both stand up, and the one who was doing the talking wraps his arms around me, giving me a giant bear hug.

“I’m Tank and this is Red. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Red shakes my hand. “Thanks for fixing the idiot.”

“I’m gonna go in there now and check on him, ok?” I ask. I really don’t care what their response is. They’re big teddy bears, and apparently, I’ve earned myself a reputation. I’m cracking up inside, wondering what Gavin told them to keep them on good behavior.

The room is like a three-ring circus.

Bikers everywhere, laughing, yelling, and I think someone is standing in the corner drinking a beer. I don’t even think about what I’m seeing, because I’m only looking for one thing.

Well, one person.

And he’s not even there.

I march over to Hank’s bedside, where he lays there half awake.

By this time, the room has quieted and I feel like there’s a million eyes on me.

“Hi, Hank,” I say, studying the stitches running down the side of his arm. “How ya feeling today?”

“I know you.” He smiles, batting his long blond eyelashes. “You’re the girl who was kissing on my brother last night.”

I should be mortified, but I decide to roll with it. Obviously, word travels fast in this gang.

“Anybody got a spare pillow I can use to smother him?”

The men start laughing, and as they go around introducing themselves, I’m torn. On one hand, this is totally outside of healthy hospital protocol, but on the other, it’s kind of heartwarming to see a clan banded together in their brother’s time of need.

“I saw you with my own two eyes,” Hank says. “I just pretended like I was out in case things started getting pornographic. I was gonna put that in my bank for later.”

“Well, this is the part where I pretend like I have no idea what you’re talking about and tell you that you were hallucinating. It’s a very common side effect from anesthesia actually.”

Just then, a skinny little blonde in a bright green, low-cut sundress comes storming through the door. I can’t help but notice her boobs straining against the fabric, barely contained by the flimsy layer of spandex.

“Goob!” she wails, running to his bed, planting kisses all over his face. “What happened, baby?”

“Morgan, what the hell are you doing here?” an older gentleman who had introduced himself to me as Heat hisses at her.

“Well, I was at camp with Gavin, if you must know. He tried to get me to stay, but when he told me about poor Goob, I couldn’t live with myself knowing he was here all by himself.”

I don’t know how to read this chick. I’m obviously jealous, but by her over-the-top histrionics, I’m fairly certain there’s more to the story than what she’s saying. Plus, what’s it my business anyway? For all I know, he’s got a wife and kids and I’m just another sucker like this bleached bimbo who’s now straddling Hank.

“Ma’am,” I say to her, “you probably shouldn’t be doing that. His ribs are broken.”

“My dick is still intact though, right, Doc? You saw it, didn’t you?” he laughs.

I’m absolutely repulsed but I can’t look away from this train wreck. I need to get out before I get sucked into this bizarre vortex.

“I did see it.” I shrug.

“And?”

“I was slightly underwhelmed.”

Everyone cracks up, except for Morgan, who is shooting lasers from her eyes at me.

“Only slightly, right?” Hank pleads.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling well today, but I have to go do my rounds. It was nice meeting you all.”

And with that, I make my exit.

I have no idea why, but I can’t stop smiling.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to check my text messages.

My smile gets even wider when I realize who it is.

Gavin: What time u done?

As much as I want to tell him RIGHT NOW COME GET ME PLEASE! I have a small bone to pick.

Sloan: What about your girlfriend?

Gavin: ???

Sloan: Bleach blonde, big fake boobs.

Gavin: Be more specific?

I text him back a middle finger emoji.

Sloan: 8:30 if everything goes as planned. I’ll let you know if anything changes.

I have a feeling I’m going to spend the next eight hours of the day a nervous wreck. I never hope for a tragedy to strike, but I need something to keep my mind off the fact that tonight I’m going to have him all to myself for the first time.

No epic distractions.

No friends or family or coworkers busting in, ripping us apart.

Of course I’m turned on.

But part of me is terrified. I’ve been continually saved by the bell, saved from revealing my dark past. When this was looking like nothing more than a one-night stand, that wasn’t a problem, but now, here, I feel like the tables have turned.

I’m gonna have to be on high alert.

“Sloan!” Doctor Peterman yells, chasing me down the hall. “You ready to scrub up?”

Back to reality.

Back to my center, my core, my very being. My ice chamber of solace. Time to sew somebody back together again.