Chapter 1
The clock on the wall read 6:45 PM, and I was praying my last patient would actually be the last one. Twelve hours on my feet had left my back screaming and my feet feeling like cement blocks. I sighed and rubbed my temples, wishing I could just curl up on a cot somewhere and sleep until morning.
Then the door to the ER swung open, and in walked Noah Parker.
Of course, it was him. Captain of the local hockey team, my brother’s best friend, and apparently, now my personal nightmare for the night.
He was holding his jersey in one hand and a towel draped over his shoulder. His cheek was already bruising in the shape of a puck—or maybe a fist. Great. Another “hockey fight” injury.
He had checked himself in with the front desk. Our receptionist, Lacey, was swooning over him already, barely handing me his chart to call him back.
“Evening, Nurse Owens,” he said, giving me that smirk that made me want to roll my eyes and punch him, again, at the same time.
I shoved my gloves on and didn’t respond right away. My shift was almost over. I didn’t have time for this. “You’re lucky you didn’t come in sooner,” I muttered. “I’ve been swamped.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Lucky for me? Or lucky for the hospital?”
I gave him a pointed look. “Both. Now, sit down. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
He sat on the exam bed like he owned the place, which, somehow, he almost did in the hockey world. I gestured for him to tilt his head so I could examine the bruise forming on his cheek.
“You know,” he said casually, “I feel like I’ve been in worse fights.”
I frowned. “Judging by the shape of your cheek, I’d say this one’s holding up pretty well. You’re lucky you didn’t knock out a tooth—or your jaw.”
He smirked. “So you think I’m in trouble?”
“I think you’re in pain,” I corrected, grabbing some ice packs. “And I think you’re about to get lectured by someone—probably Gray—about using your fists instead of your brain.”
He chuckled. “Gray’s been on my case about that since junior hockey. He’s still the same, huh?”
I paused, adjusting the ice pack on his cheek. “He’s… very protective.” I couldn’t stop the small smile from forming. “You’ve known him a long time. You should know that by now.”
“I do.” His eyes softened just a fraction, and I found myself caught off guard. There was a side to Noah Parker that most people didn’t see. Calm, careful, almost… considerate. It was the kind of thing that made you forget he could also be the toughest guy on the ice.
“You’ve got a pretty serious bruise forming,” I said, focusing on my work. “How bad was this fight?”
He shrugged. “Regular game stuff. Nothing to write home about.”
“Right,” I muttered, knowing full well the team’s locker room stories would make this sound far more brutal than he admitted. I carefully wrapped a bandage around his cheek, trying not to think about how ridiculously good he looked even with a swollen face.
“So… you work twelve-hour shifts?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head. His tone was curious, not teasing.
“Yes,” I said, trying to sound professional. “Long days, lots of paperwork, lots of yelling patients, lots of coffee. You know—fun stuff.”
“You sound exhausted,” he said softly. “Don’t you get a break?”
“Sometimes,” I muttered, tugging at my gloves. “And sometimes I just don’t. Today’s one of those days.”
He nodded, thoughtful. “I didn’t realize nursing was that… demanding.”
“It is,” I said, adjusting the ice pack one last time. “But it pays the bills. Well… mostly.” I sighed. “Nursing school loans are still waiting for me.”
His eyes narrowed, just slightly. “That’s… a lot to deal with.”
I shrugged, trying to act casual. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“You’re… stubborn,” he said, a hint of admiration in his voice. “Like Gray said. Always have been.”
I laughed, a little bitter, a little tired. “Yep. That’s me. Nurse Owens. Stubborn, overworked, and totally exhausted.”
He grinned. “Well, at least you’re good at it.”
I didn’t know why, but his words made me feel… seen. Really seen. Not like the media saw him, not like Gray saw him as his best friend, but like he actually noticed me.
And just like that, the night didn’t feel quite as heavy.
We finished cleaning up, and I handed him a discharge sheet. He stood, towering over me, and for a second, I just looked at him—bruised, tired, yet completely… Noah.
“Thanks,” he said finally, giving me that smirk again. “For… being professional. And for not laughing at me too much.”
I rolled my eyes. “Professionalism is my middle name. But you? You’re lucky I like Gray. Otherwise, I’d make you come back in and sit in the waiting room until you apologized to every patient who witnessed your fight.”
He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As he left, I felt that same weird flip in my stomach. And I hated that it was happening.
Because I had no idea how much Noah Parker was about to complicate my life.
