rock star, to boot. I must be confusing my physical attraction for
something deeper, that’s all. Those muscles of his would bamboozle even the
most unromantic person out there. And if I’m honest with myself, I’ve always
been something of a hopeless romantic. I try not to think about what all these
warring feelings mean and I drive home to catch a few well-earned hours of
sleep.
I stagger up my front stoop and let myself in. Gustav is
waiting for me by the door, just like he always does, his big yellow eyes peer
up at me inquisitively. I give him a good scratch behind the ears and head for
the kitchen, to fetch a can of food for him. We’ve gotten into quite the
regular routine, Gustav and I. I empty the food into his dish and slog up the stairs,
at this point my limbs are aching for a little bit of rest. Without bothering
to take off my scrubs, I flop down onto my mattress. I don’t even bother to get
under the covers. My eyes snap shut, and I pull my eye mask firmly down over my
face to keep the sun at bay.
As I lay there, halfway between waking and sleeping, I find
my thoughts drawn inevitably toward Slade Hale. I let my imagination supply me
with scenes of the two of us together, out in the real world. I imagine what
his home must look like, how he looks without his clothes on. I let myself
wonder what it would be like to run my hands along his firm chest, his well
muscled arms, and those washboard abs. What would it feel like to run my
fingers through his long, dark curls, look deeply into his endless eyes, and
press my lips to his? How amazing would it feel to reach down and wrap my hands
around his hard, bulging...
In what feels like the blink of an eye, it’s morning once
more. I scowl under my mask, annoyed at not being able to remember any of the
more illicit dreams my subconscious had cooked up the night before. For an
instant before waking, I had imagined that I was actually wrapped up in Slade’s
arms. But when I roll over, I see that I’m alone once more. As ever.
I crawl out of bed and prepare myself for work. Most days,
getting to the hospital seems like a chore, but today I’m excited to head in.
There was something about Slade’s demeanor the day before that had resonated
with me. Against my better judgment, I let myself hope that the sweet guy who
secretly liked Simon and Garfunkel was the true version of Slade.
I bid adieu to Gustav and all but skip out to my car.
Drumming my fingers impatiently on the dashboard, I find that I can’t wait to
be back at the hospital so that I can see Slade again. I’ll be on my best
behavior today and give this guy a chance.
Penny’s already at work when I breeze in. She looks up at me
and raises her eyebrows suspiciously. “Someone’s chipper this morning,” she
says, “Did you get laid last night or something?”
“Not exactly,” I say, “Just in a good mood.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” she says. “Would you do me
a favor and check in on the patient at the end of the hall? He took a bad spill
down the stairs of his office building, and he—”
“No can do,” I say, “I’m on strict Slade Hale duty.
Remember? Dr. Kelly doesn’t want me spending time with any other patients.”
“Didn’t someone tell you?” Penny says, her bright eyes going
wide.
“Tell me what?” I ask, dark dread flooding through me, “Did
something happen? Is Slade OK?”
“He’s fine, don’t worry,” Penny says, taking my hands in
hers. “He’s been discharged, actually. I thought someone would have told you.”
“...Discharged?” I repeat. I pull my hands from Penny’s and
rush down the hall to Slade’s room. I yank open the door and lurch inside,
hoping to see his caddish, smiling face before me. But instead, I only see a
perfectly made bed sitting in the middle of a pristine room. There’s no
evidence that Slade had ever even been here. I sink down into the bedside chair
and stare blankly at the place where he lay just hours
something deeper, that’s all. Those muscles of his would bamboozle even the
most unromantic person out there. And if I’m honest with myself, I’ve always
been something of a hopeless romantic. I try not to think about what all these
warring feelings mean and I drive home to catch a few well-earned hours of
sleep.
I stagger up my front stoop and let myself in. Gustav is
waiting for me by the door, just like he always does, his big yellow eyes peer
up at me inquisitively. I give him a good scratch behind the ears and head for
the kitchen, to fetch a can of food for him. We’ve gotten into quite the
regular routine, Gustav and I. I empty the food into his dish and slog up the stairs,
at this point my limbs are aching for a little bit of rest. Without bothering
to take off my scrubs, I flop down onto my mattress. I don’t even bother to get
under the covers. My eyes snap shut, and I pull my eye mask firmly down over my
face to keep the sun at bay.
As I lay there, halfway between waking and sleeping, I find
my thoughts drawn inevitably toward Slade Hale. I let my imagination supply me
with scenes of the two of us together, out in the real world. I imagine what
his home must look like, how he looks without his clothes on. I let myself
wonder what it would be like to run my hands along his firm chest, his well
muscled arms, and those washboard abs. What would it feel like to run my
fingers through his long, dark curls, look deeply into his endless eyes, and
press my lips to his? How amazing would it feel to reach down and wrap my hands
around his hard, bulging...
In what feels like the blink of an eye, it’s morning once
more. I scowl under my mask, annoyed at not being able to remember any of the
more illicit dreams my subconscious had cooked up the night before. For an
instant before waking, I had imagined that I was actually wrapped up in Slade’s
arms. But when I roll over, I see that I’m alone once more. As ever.
I crawl out of bed and prepare myself for work. Most days,
getting to the hospital seems like a chore, but today I’m excited to head in.
There was something about Slade’s demeanor the day before that had resonated
with me. Against my better judgment, I let myself hope that the sweet guy who
secretly liked Simon and Garfunkel was the true version of Slade.
I bid adieu to Gustav and all but skip out to my car.
Drumming my fingers impatiently on the dashboard, I find that I can’t wait to
be back at the hospital so that I can see Slade again. I’ll be on my best
behavior today and give this guy a chance.
Penny’s already at work when I breeze in. She looks up at me
and raises her eyebrows suspiciously. “Someone’s chipper this morning,” she
says, “Did you get laid last night or something?”
“Not exactly,” I say, “Just in a good mood.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” she says. “Would you do me
a favor and check in on the patient at the end of the hall? He took a bad spill
down the stairs of his office building, and he—”
“No can do,” I say, “I’m on strict Slade Hale duty.
Remember? Dr. Kelly doesn’t want me spending time with any other patients.”
“Didn’t someone tell you?” Penny says, her bright eyes going
wide.
“Tell me what?” I ask, dark dread flooding through me, “Did
something happen? Is Slade OK?”
“He’s fine, don’t worry,” Penny says, taking my hands in
hers. “He’s been discharged, actually. I thought someone would have told you.”
“...Discharged?” I repeat. I pull my hands from Penny’s and
rush down the hall to Slade’s room. I yank open the door and lurch inside,
hoping to see his caddish, smiling face before me. But instead, I only see a
perfectly made bed sitting in the middle of a pristine room. There’s no
evidence that Slade had ever even been here. I sink down into the bedside chair
and stare blankly at the place where he lay just hours