Page 24 of In My Hockey Era (Must Love Hockey #1)

DIAGNOSIS: SMITTEN

Lucy

T he inside of the ambulance is a controlled storm of movement and noise—beeping monitors, the low hum of the road beneath us, and the patient’s shallow, labored breaths.

“Chest pain, radiating to your left arm, right?” I ask, securing an oxygen mask over the elderly man’s face.

He nods weakly. Sweat beads along his graying hairline, his skin pale and clammy.

Ethan adjusts the heart monitor leads, glancing at the vitals. “BP’s low. Pulse is irregular.” He looks at me. “We’ll get an EKG at the hospital, but you thinking a STEMI?”

“Could be,” I say, reaching for the nitro. “Sir, I’m going to give you some medication under your tongue to help with the chest pain, okay?”

Another nod. I administer the nitroglycerin and glance at the monitor, watching his numbers for any change.

Ethan settles onto the bench across from me, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “So. Nashville.”

I don’t look up. “Not really the time, Ethan.”

Obviously.

Not that it’s stopped us before.

I once told him about this incredible Italian restaurant I’d eaten at while administering an enema.

Yeah. That actually happened.

Ethan’s lips quirk. “What, you can multi-task when it comes to saving lives, but not when it comes to answering a few innocent questions?”

He’s right of course.

I press my lips together, focusing on our patient. “Take slow breaths for me,” I tell him, adjusting the flow of oxygen.

Ethan sighs dramatically. “I’m just saying, I saw the pictures. You and Wilder looked awfully cozy. And before you say it, yes, I know it was for PR, but still.”

Still.

I force myself to stay professional, keep my hands steady. But damn it, Ethan isn’t wrong.

It wasn’t just PR. Not by the end of it. Not by a longshot.

I can still feel the weight of Bennett’s body pinning me to the mattress, the way his voice rasped my name, the heat of his mouth trailing over every inch of my skin.

Things hadn’t gone there … only because he said he didn’t pack protection when I asked, okay begged .

And maybe that was for the best. This was all still very new between us.

He didn’t expect anything to happen and if I reflect on that, it’s sweet honestly.

I didn’t either.

I thought we’d each have our own hotel room, for starters. I didn’t expect to want to hump him as desperately as I did.

Sorry not sorry.

But if we’re using baseball analogies, bases were rounded.

And even before that—laughing over beers, walking through downtown Nashville like we were an actual couple? It had been one of the best weekends of my life.

And now he’s gone again. Games this week, including a West Coast trip, which means I haven’t seen him since we landed back in Dallas. Just texts here and there, mostly teasing. One from last night that I read at least five times before falling asleep.

Can’t stop thinking about you, Quinn.

Heat creeps up my neck.

Ethan smirks. “Oh my gosh, you’re blushing.”

“I am not blushing,” I snap.

His grin widens. “You totally are. What did he do to you in Nashville, huh?”

I shoot him a drop it look, but he just chuckles, hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. But, uh, when you do see him again… you gonna wear his jersey this time?”

I scowl. Ethan cracks up. The patient groans weakly, reminding me that I do, in fact, have a job to do.

“Hang in there,” I tell him, squeezing his hand.

The hospital comes into view through the back windows, and I shove Bennett from my thoughts. At least for now.

The next few hours pass without any more intrusive conversations from Ethan, or Decker, or any of the guys.

I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I flip through the patient files on my tablet. The rig is parked outside the hospital, and Ethan’s inside finishing paperwork, leaving me with a few rare minutes of quiet.

“So,” Mia drawls, her voice brimming with amusement. “Are you ever going to stop being weird about the fact that you’re dating a hot, famous hockey player?”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “I’m not being weird. And we’re not dating.”

Mia snorts. “Lucy, you flew to another state with him. He gave you his jersey. And I can hear the panic in your voice, which means you like him, and it’s terrifying you.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the way my stomach flips because, well… she’s not wrong. I don’t do serious relationships. Especially not with a guy like Bennett, whose rejection could literally crush me. “We’re hanging out. That’s it.”

“Hanging out and what , exactly?” She pauses. “You know what, never mind. I’m not ready for that level of detail.”

I grin. “Then stop asking.”

“Fine, but I am ready to finally meet this man and grill him over drinks, which is why you should invite him out on Saturday.”

“I think I could do that.” I clear my throat. “Maybe… him and his friend Chase.”

“Ohh, a two-for-one deal?” Mia teases. “Are you setting me up?”

“Absolutely not,” I say quickly. “Chase is… grumpy.” At least from what Bennett has told me. I thought he was positively delightful, though that could have been because I was starstruck when I met him.

Mia perks up. “Oh, I love a grumpy man. It makes breaking them so much more fun.”

I laugh. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Please, you should be worried about yourself . I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at your phone all week. Waiting for a text, aren’t you?”

I groan. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me. And you really like Bennett Wilder.”

I don’t confirm or deny that, because honestly? I’m still trying to figure out how deep I’ve gotten myself into this whole thing. But my silence is enough for Mia, who hums knowingly.

“I’ll see you Saturday, babe.”

And with that, she hangs up, leaving me sitting there, staring at my phone, feeling entirely too called out.