My back is killing me today, but I’m flying. And it’s not from any painkillers, it’s from my date last night.

Our first date went better than I could have imagined. It was definitely the best date I’ve ever had. Madison is fucking amazing—smart, funny, and that banging body is just the cherry on top of it all.

I’ve been dreaming about her all day, counting the minutes until she starts her shift.

“Just stay in bed and get some rest,” my other doctor, Dr. Cooper, says. He’s the doctor that’s in charge of my care when Madison is off. He’s a good guy, but he doesn’t compare to Dr. Mendes. “Are you sure you don’t want some painkillers?” he asks.

My back is on fire today, but I don’t want to be all groggy and out of it when Madison comes in. I drool enough when she’s around, I don’t need painkillers adding to it.

“I’m good, Doc,” I say, wincing as I take a breath.

“You don’t look very good,” he mutters under his breath. “I have to leave, but Dr. Mendes should be here in about half an hour.”

Twenty-seven minutes to be exact.

“She’ll be going over the results of the MRI you had this morning,” he says. “Hopefully, we’ll find the source of all that pain.”

He checks my heart one last time and then leaves the room, telling me to call the nurses if I need anything.

The pain is bad, but the real torture is waiting for Madison in this excruciatingly boring room. I pull out the iPad that Christopher brought me and pick a comedy to watch, but I can’t seem to focus on the movie with the sharp stabbing pains in my back. I was hoping to get out of the hospital in the next few days, but I seem to be getting worse.

A few uncomfortable minutes later, Madison walks in, and all of my pain is forgotten. How can I focus on pain when she’s standing in front of me, looking like that?

She’s looking absolutely gorgeous today, and the sight makes the hairs on my arms raise straight up. My eyes roam all over her from her knee-high skirt to the white blouse under her lab coat. Her dark blonde hair is pulled back, and her gray eyes look brighter than ever.

“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at me with wide eyes when she sees me. “You’re sweating like crazy.”

She rushes over, and I get a delicious whiff of her citrusy perfume. She sits down on the side of my bed, and I struggle to push myself up to a sitting position.

“I was just thinking of my hot date last night,” I say, trying to play it off. The pain in my back feels like someone is sliding a rusty old screwdriver into my spine, but I’m not about to tell her that. She’ll pump me up with painkillers, and then I’ll be off in La La Land when I’d much rather be down here with her. I’ve waited all day for this, and I’m not going to let a little bit of discomfort ruin it. Ugh. Okay, a lot of discomfort.

“Are you sure?” she asks as she puts the buds of her stethoscope in her ears and checks my heart. “Your heart is racing.”

“It always is when you’re here,” I say, trying to grin at her, but it comes out as a cringe instead.

Madison just ignores me, jumping off the bed to grab my chart. “You had an MRI today?”

I nod.

“I’ll go get the results.” She races out the door before I can stop her, and I curse under my breath at this stupid back injury that’s preventing me from running after her.

All I want to do is tell her that I had an amazing time last night and ask her if she wants to do it again.

But I can’t be too mad at my back injury. If it wasn’t for it, then I wouldn’t have met the sexy doctor in the first place.

Still, I hate looking weak in front of her. My stubborn male pride takes over, and I decide to stand up out of the bed. I don’t want her to think of me as frail and sick. I want her to think I’m as strong as a rock because that’s what I’ll be for her.

I grit my teeth and grab the bars of my bed with trembling hands. The pain in my back lights up in a searing fire, but I suck it up as I swing my legs off the mattress and plant my feet on the cold floor.

It’s like someone is holding a torch inside my back as I stand up straight, waiting for Madison to come back. Luckily, I don’t have to wait for long.

She comes in a moment later with her shoulders curled forward and her wide, intensely focused eyes on an iPad, looking at the results of my MRI. Her hand is trembling as she scrolls through the images.

My legs start to wobble, and I’m feeling faint as I watch her skin pale.

“Shane,” she whispers, swallowing hard as she looks up at me. “We have to get you to the operating ro—”

Either she doesn’t finish, or I don’t hear.

The room starts spinning, and all I see is a blurred Madison rush over as my legs give out and I fall into unconsciousness.