Without another word, she shuts the closet door and continues down the hallway toward the last room. I follow behind her, heart racing even as I repeatedly tell myself I’m overreacting for no reason.
The door for Room 601 is open a crack. Light seeps out along with muted voices. Memories of the last time I was face to face with a Wildcat player swirl through my mind and my fingers tremble.
“Sandy! Wait up.”
We both turn to find Hannah jogging toward us. She stops in front of Sandy. “Someone from administration needs to see you.”
“Tell them I’ll be there as soon as we do the handoff on 601.”
“She said it can’t wait. They have a question on some paperwork for him.” She tips her head in the direction of our VIP.
“Maybe I should go,” I offer.
“No. You go ahead and check on your patient,” Sandy says with a sigh. “I’ll deal with administration and then hopefully they’ll leave you to do your job the rest of the night. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
As soon as Sandy is gone, Hannah latches on to my forearm with a firm grip and pulls me over to the wall where we’re partially hidden behind a crash cart. “Did you see him yet?”
“No, not yet. Who is it?”
Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.
“Ash Kelly!”
My heart drops and a high pitch ring drowns out the background noise of the hospital. It’s been a month since Ash Kelly hit on me in front of an entire arena and then almost got into a fight with Gabe outside of Wild’s bar. A whole month and that night still haunts me.
“Can you believe it?” Hannah asks.
I can’t, but I can’t seem to form words to reply either.
When I still don’t respond, she adds, “Ash Kelly? The hockey player. He plays for the Wildcats.”
“Right.” My voice comes out tight, but I do my best to force my body to appear calm and relaxed. “I’ve heard of him. Why’s he here?”
He’s hurt obviously, but just…How? How can this be happening? And how do I avoid going in there and facing him?
“He got injured in the game tonight. Concussion and shoulder separation. Dr. Weston was on her way to the hospital for an emergency ankle repair, so they sent him here.”
Despite my shock at finding out who our VIP patient is, the nurse in me wants more details. “AC joint? Does he need surgery?”
“Yes, and I don’t know. They just brought him up a few minutes ago.” Her smile gets impossibly bigger. “God, you’re so lucky.”
“We could switch.” I try to hand her the pillows and blanket. I cannot walk in there and be Ash Kelly’s nurse. My face flames hotter at just the thought. I have no desire to relive any part of that night.
“And face the wrath of Sandy? No way. Besides, Weston’s letting me help on the ankle repair.”
“And you think I’m the lucky one?” Though to be fair, there are few things that sound less humiliating than walking in Room 601 and facing Ash again. I can still see his expression as he watched me walk off with an angry Gabe. He seemed so confused and a little concerned. It’s the concern that surprised me the most. It was genuine.
“Ash Kelly or a surgery with the best doctor in this hospital?” She moves her hands in front of her like she’s weighing the options, then drops them with a laugh. “I’ll tell you about the surgery if you promise you’ll tell me what he’s like?”
I manage a small nod.
“Have fun,” she chirps before taking off in the other direction.
“You too,” I mutter back, too quiet and too late for her to hear.
I pace in front of the door, hugging the bedding to my chest. Flashes from that night play in a loop. Ash skating around the ice with women screaming his name. His cocky smile as he tossed me the puck. And that puzzled expression as I left him on the sidewalk.
Part of me wonders if I’m being silly. There’s no way Ash Kelly remembers me. I’m certain that I am one of many, many women he’s charmed with his little pre-game warmup. But on the off chance he does recognize me, I’d prefer not to have a conversation about what happened outside of Wild’s that night. Especially here in my place of employment.
I’ve just about talked myself into going into the room, keeping my head down, and faking an accent, when the door opens. A guy with gray hair wearing a white polo shirt with the Wildcat hockey logo embroidered over his chest steps out, then pauses when he sees me loitering in the hallway.
A practiced, closed mouth smile falls into place. “Hello.”
“Hey.” The man steps to the side to allow me to enter. “Can we get some more water?”
“Absolutely.” I nod with more confidence than I feel. I really wish I could shove the pillows and blanket at him and run off, but I am a professional, dammit. Holding my head high, I walk over to deposit the extra bedding on the far chair. Normally the first thing I’d do is make eye contact with the patient, but I avoid staring at Ash until it’s nearly uncomfortable.
Looking up and directly into his blue eyes, I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction. Immediately, I know he recognizes me. I can’t even begin to think about how that’s possible, but I know it’s true. The corners of his lips pull up on either side and he opens his mouth to say something, but I’m saved by Dr. Weston as she enters the room. She’s a badass orthopedic surgeon that just transferred here from Virginia. She’s one of the best in the country. The Wildcats scooped her up this season as a team doctor, so it’s not all that surprising that a Wildcat player would be here, I guess, but it’s the first time I know of that it’s happened.
She stops at the side of his bed. “How’s your pain? Better or worse since they checked you at the arena?”
“Fine. Same.” His gaze flicks back to me for a second, then returns to the doctor.
While they go over his pain and the tests that have already been run, I take the opportunity to get more water and then see what else the room needs. I check all the closets for supplies and even make sure that he has fresh batteries in the TV remote. Busy tasks so I don’t have to look at him.
“But I won’t need surgery, right?” A hint of fear in his voice beckons me to finally redirect my attention his way.
He’s wearing only black athletic pants with his jersey number stitched in green on the left hip. I’ve successfully managed not to gawk at his bare chest since I walked in, but all that restraint goes up in a plume of smoke now. And dammit, his body is just as spectacular as I remember from the stunt he pulled at the game, whipping off his jersey to give to a little girl in the crowd. He’s quite the charmer, I’ll give him that. The fans love him.
Light hair along his chest is trimmed short and trails down his washboard abs before disappearing into the band of his pants. He’s lean and cut and his muscles are defined even in the awful fluorescent lighting overhead. His left arm is covered with a sling, keeping it close to his body and elevated.