Page 17

I walk down the hospital hallway, taking in the sights of people bringing their loved ones Christmas gifts and special treats that the patients most likely shouldn’t even be eating, and still, I can’t help but smile.

It’s Christmas Eve, and though there’s plenty of sadness happening at this very moment in this hospital, there’s also a lot of joy.

Grabbing my complimentary hospital water jug, which I love more than any one of my Stanleys, I take a sip and brush a few strands of hair from my face.

I’m only here for another hour, but to be honest, I’m not in any hurry to leave.

This season—my favorite season of all—just lightens the heavy stuff somehow.

I don’t know if it’s the annoying Christmas music I’ve grown to love so much or the decorated artificial trees scattered throughout the hospital, but it brings me a sense of comfort in the most unlikely place.

Marcia steps out of a patient’s room and heads toward the nurses’ station in front of me.

Spinning around, she looks nervous.

“Saylor, are you sure you don’t mind working tomorrow? I feel really bad. It’s Christmas.”

Plopping my ass down in one of the computer chairs, I take my glasses from my face and put them on the front of my scrubs.

Normally, I’d be wearing my contacts.

But little ol’ me forgot to change the auto-delivery to my new address, so now I’ll be without my eyes for a few days.

It’s funny because, as a kid, I wore fake glasses because I loved them so much.

Now I actually have to wear them, and I completely hate it.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind a bit,” I tell her genuinely.

“You have kids and a husband.” I pause.

“And a dog. I don’t even have a houseplant that needs me home.”

I turn toward the computer to log some things, but am surprised by arms wrapping around my shoulders as she leans over me.

“Thank you, Saylor. It truly means so much.” She sniffles.

“I didn’t even have to ask you either. That’s the craziest part.” She squeezes me a little tighter.

“I worked my baby’s first Christmas because I felt bad, saying no. This year, I won’t need to. And it’s all because of you.”

I may often enjoy being the center of attention when I walk into a room, but I absolutely loathe when someone showers me with kind words or compliments because I never know what to say in return without sounding like a douchebag.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal.” I crane my neck and smile at her.

“You should be with your family on Christmas, and I have nothing going on. So, spending it here and making money? That’s a no-brainer.” I wink.

“Besides, I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping this week, so hospital food for the win.”

“We’re very lucky to have you here now,” she says softly before releasing me.

“Truly.”

As she walks away, I smile because I’m so thankful that she’ll get to be with her family.

She works long-ass shifts, and when she’s here, she gives one hundred and ten percent to each patient, as it should be.

She deserves to have Christmas Day off.

My mom wasn’t thrilled when she found out that I had to work on the holiday, but I promised her that if or when I have kids, I would be sure to take holidays off, and that seemed to make her happy.

She told me I should meet up with my older brother, Silas, but I somehow escaped that too.

I love Silas, but I’m needed here right now, so here is where I want to be.

I’m not the only one spending Christmas by myself though.

Ryder is back in Maine, all alone.

Apparently, his parents went on a holiday cruise, which he seemed to think was good.

The past few weeks, we’ve kept in touch—as friends.

Although he certainly likes to sometimes push the flirty envelope, which prompts me to tell him to cut the shit.

If our friendship is going to work, we can’t be flirting.

That’s not appropriate.

Maybe we’ll talk tonight.

Who knows? As long as we keep the lines clear, I’ll be his friend forever.

He’s nice and funny, and he seems quite uncomplicated, so I see no issue with being friends.

This is crazy.

Or maybe it’s weird.

Yeah, it’s definitely fucking weird, and now I’m fixing to look like a stalker.

Since I got Saylor’s number that night at the airport, we’ve kept in touch.

I know I need to tell her brother, but also, if we are just friends, what’s it really matter?

Except now it’s Christmas Eve, and I’m waiting for her outside of the hospital she works at like a stage-five clinger who’s been friend-zoned and who still got on a plane to be here.

She’s working six a.m. till six p.m. tomorrow, but I figured we could hang out tonight, and I’ll surprise her with dinner or something when she gets out tomorrow.

I know she doesn’t want me the way I want her—or she does, but won’t accept it—but I couldn’t stand the thought of her being alone on Christmas.

And selfishly … I’m hoping we’ll have some sex to celebrate the holidays because who doesn’t want that?

The door opens, and a few people walk through, passing by me as I sit on the bench.

They look tired and sad.

I’m sure they are because this is the place of death and sickness.

I hate hospitals for this exact reason.

Looking down at my phone, I scroll mindlessly on Instagram.

I see some pictures of Logan, Maci, and Amelia decorating gingerbread houses.

In matching fucking pajamas.

I’d make fun of the guy, but truthfully, I’m a tad jealous.

He did things a little backward—had a surprise kid with a woman who sadly died the day Amelia was born and then found the love of his life, who was also his kid’s nanny.

A few months later, here they are, wearing matching pajamas, decorating gingerbread houses, and living their best lives.

Still, good for him.

He’s so happy, and if anyone deserves happiness, it’s that guy.

I scroll some more, seeing more pictures of friends with their families.

Cam Hardy posted a picture three minutes ago of him and his stepdaughter, Isla, ice skating.

A few posts down, Paige shared a photo of her, Kolt, and their two cats on the couch, watching Christmas movies.

Everyone looks so happy.

And here I am, in Charleston, surprising a woman who wants nothing more than my dick for her own pleasure.

I’m pathetic, but it is what it is.

The automatic doors open again, and when I lift my gaze this time, Saylor’s walking toward me in navy-blue scrubs, glancing down at her phone with a Dr. Pepper in her other hand.

I know I shouldn’t look at her the way that I am right now, but, goddamn, she’s so cute, even after working a long shift.

Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, some loose pieces falling out.

She’s petite but curvy, and even through the top, her tits strain, and I can see a slight jiggle, making my cock twitch.

She doesn’t have an ounce of makeup on, other than maybe a little of that shit that goes on her lashes, and yet she’s breathtaking.

I might hate hospitals, but if I was lying in a hospital bed, about to die, I’d gladly take her as my nurse to help ease the pain.

“Oh, hey there, Brat,” I drawl slowly and wait for her eyes to lift to meet mine.

Slowly, she takes me in, and her forehead creases in confusion.

“Ummm, hey? What—what are you doing here?”

Pushing up from the bench, I take a few steps toward her, stuffing my phone into my pocket.

“Well, I guess I figured since I’d be a loner on Christmas and you’d be a loner on Christmas … we could be losers—I mean, loners—together.” I shrug my shoulders.

“If that’s okay with you—although, after flying here, you’d better say yes, or I may just force you to hang out with me anyway. Not sure I could handle that sort of rejection. And it is Christmas. So, you’re supposed to be kind.”

I’m actually shocked when she doesn’t instantly hit me with a witty response.

Instead, she studies my face for a good long time.

She looks like she’s searching for something, but what that something is, I’m not sure.

She doesn’t look amused, but she also doesn’t seem pissed, so that’s a win in my book.

“You flew to Charleston so that I didn’t have to be alone on Christmas?” she says with unmistakable skepticism.

“Seriously?”

I frown, suddenly feeling like a giant, warm, and squishy pussy.

“Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a vagina,” I utter, but don’t bother defending myself.

“But yes. Yes, I did.”

“Vaginas are pretty damn strong,” she says, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

“Built to take a beating. And literally … they create human life. So, I believe what you meant to say was, you feel like a scrotum,” she says flatly.

“That would make more sense.”

“Yeah, I guess that checks out,” I whisper.

“Either way, yeah. I flew here to be with you for Christmas. Go on; tell me what a loser I am.”

The corner of her mouth tips up, and her eyes teasingly widen a fraction.

“Jeez, Cambridge, just how obsessed with me are you?” she says playfully.

“This is kind of over the top. Even for your simpy self.”

“I’m not usually this guy,” I say, giving her a slight shrug.

“Consider yourself lucky, Sail-On.”

“My name is spelled differently, so you can’t keep calling me that; it makes zero sense,” she deadpans.

“And it’s incredibly annoying.”

“Why do you think I do it?” I smirk before throwing an arm around her.

“Let’s get out of here. It’s Christmas Eve.”

She cranes her neck and looks up at me, straight into my eyes, and my soul fucking feels her everywhere.

I’m trying to play it cool, like I’m here just as a friend and that I didn’t fuck my hand, imagining her sucking my cock, next to a Christmas tree last night, but the truth is, I want her so badly right now that my head is spinning.

As we head toward her car, I keep my arm around her in a playful manner.

But really, I just want her to be close to me.

I’ve never given a fuck about holidays, but this year, I just couldn’t stand the thought of a chick I’d hooked up with a few times being alone.

What the fuck is she doing to me?

“All right, I’m officially impressed,” I say, gawking openly at the stunner beside me as she skates effortlessly across the ice.

“For some reason, I figured you’d be falling down, and I’d get to scoop you up, maybe give you an ass squeeze in the process.” I wave my hand toward her.

“But here you are, lookin’ like a pro.”

Who would have known a place like South Carolina would have an outdoor skating rink?

Not this guy, but I’m glad they do because Saylor seems to be genuinely enjoying herself.

After I picked her up at the hospital, she wanted to go home and change out of her scrubs, but in record time, she was ready to go and continue our night.

I looked up things to do in the area for Christmas, and this place showed up.

Surrounding the rink are brightly lit Christmas trees with music playing over the sound system.

If a Hallmark movie was what I was going for, I definitely nailed it.

“What’d you expect, lover boy?” She smiles.

“I grew up with Smith, also known as the favorite child. We spent most Saturdays at the arena as kids, so I figured I might as well learn to skate.”

Her words are meant to be light, and it’s clear she doesn’t mean anything by them other than to point out to me why she’s good at ice skating, but I still feel bad after she says them because she said Smith was the favorite child.

I’m sure it’s often easy for her to feel that way when he’s a professional hockey star.

But she’s a nurse. That’s something to be proud of.

She helps to save lives daily.

I mean, she’s working Christmas Day, for Christ’s sake.

“I doubt Smith is the favorite,” I say, eyeing her over.

Her legs might not be all that long, but she somehow keeps up with me on the ice.

She laughs lightly, shaking her head.

“My brother is a professional athlete who spends a lot of weekends passing out doughnuts to the homeless,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Of course he’s the favorite.”

“And you’re spending Christmas Eve and Christmas Day working at the hospital, taking care of patients so that your coworkers can stay home with their children,” I deadpan.

“To me, that’s a pretty big reason to be the favorite.”

“I love my job, so working holidays isn’t so bad.” The words float from her pretty lips so candidly, and I know she means every one of them.

“I don’t know how you do it though.” I skate into the center, and we circle around, sharing glances.

“Ill people? Some dying?” My stomach churns.

“Sick kids?”

I think back to when my dad had a heart attack, feeling the fear I felt that day creep into my veins.

I thought for sure he wasn’t going to wake up.

The doctors didn’t seem convinced he would either.

The sounds, smells, and even the brightness of the lights are etched into my brain.

Yet here’s Saylor, who seems to find peace within hospital walls.

“Yeah, all of that is awful,” she says, agreeing with me.

“But do you know what makes it worth it? Watching some get better and knowing I played a small part in making it happen. Or being a patient’s comfort and understanding that just my presence made their time easier.” She smiles sadly, her eyes drifting off into thought.

“Even holding the hand of someone while they take their last breath is something I will never take for granted. As tragic and heartbreaking as it is, I’ve had the honor of being somebody’s person. The one who helps them transition to a place where they aren’t in pain.” Her eyes grow misty, and I almost can’t believe it because she’s never been this deep with me—or anyone, from what I’ve seen.

“Sounds weird, I know, but … I feel like being a nurse is my purpose.”

It’s like this moment is too raw or too much for her.

Within seconds, she shakes her head subtly and plasters on a grin before driving her finger into my side.

“Race you around the ice!”

She takes off, and I chase after her.

I realize right then that I’d probably chase that girl anywhere.

And even I don’t understand why yet.