Obsessed(57)
“Can you please get up?”
“Fack off.”
Fucking hell, nurses were saints. I’d have blown it by now. She tried again, but he shot her down. She left him alone after that and he proceeded to sing Jingle Bells for the four hundred and sixty seventh time.
Fuck my life. I shouldn’t have wrecked Aston’s room. I wouldn’t have been here otherwise, listening to this fucking tool curse and sing. This was worse than watching Aston drive off.
He didn’t even glance back.
“Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Crowe. How are we doing?” asked a voice.
I looked up just as a man stepped into my partition. Even in my distress, my eyes briefly widened at him and my brain’s circuit blew, leaving behind smoke and debris.
Just look at him.
Was this dude seriously tending to me? Were doctors really this hot? He looked like a musclier version of Matt Bomer, but with dark eyes and messier hair.
I looked away from him. “I’m fine.”
He grabbed the over-bed clipboard. “Are you in any pain? Would you like some painkillers?”
“No.”
He read whatever was there with a furrowed brow before he glanced at me. He studied me for several moments, and then he set the clipboard back down and took a seat on the bed. “Can I have a look at your hand?”
I reached my hand out and he took it into his own. I frowned. Why were his hands warm? From my experience, doctors always had really cold hands, like they’d been juggling ice in the breakroom.
He carefully unwrapped the gauze, and when it was totally free, he studied the inside of my palm, at the deep gash that was aching more than ever now.
“I’m just going to touch around the gash, Miss Wright,” he told me.
He prodded around the edges, closing the cut so it formed a perfect line. I flinched in pain and he glanced at me apologetically. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
God, it felt raw, and it was thumping like it had its own pulse.
“So what happened exactly?” he then asked me.
Oh, you know, I was swinging an axe around my brother’s room, destroying everything in my path because he kinda broke up with me.
“I was chopping wood,” I answered gravely.
I felt his eyes on me. He took a few breaths and then, “You were chopping wood.”
“Mhm.”
“For your wood fire oven in the summer?”
“Yep.”
“And then what happened?”
I licked my dried lips. “I can’t remember. I think it was in the heat of the moment. I must have grabbed some wood with one hand and swung with the other. I didn’t even know until Adrian said something.”
“Adrian Guildford the police officer in the waiting room?”
I looked away. Great, he so knew. “Yep.”
Another few moments ticked by. “Are you on something, Miss Wright?”
“Like what?”
“Can you look at me?”
I looked everywhere else but him at first, and then slowly my eyes levelled out to his. He moved closer and stared into my eyes. Fucking hell, he was a Matt Bomer doppelganger, I swear to god.
It felt like he was unusually close. Should you be feeling your doctor’s breaths on your face when they inspected you? Was my Matt Bomer unaware of personal space? He looked from eye to eye, and I sighed after a while because he kept looking. The hospital staff had a lot of patience, and I currently had none.
“Are you checking if my pupils are dilated?” I asked, smirking bitterly. “I can assure you they’re not. I’m not high, Doctor…what’s your name again?”
“Crowe.”
“Doctor Crowe.”
“I’m just making sure, Miss Wright.”
“I was angry, not high,” I told him firmly.
“Like I just said, I’m only checking.”
I made an irritated noise. “Well, what’s it to you anyway? Are you even allowed to ask me these questions? It’s none of your fucking business. You’re here to patch me up, not interrogate me. I have a police officer for a father, so I’m well acquainted with these rounds of twenty questions. Not in the mood, Doctor Crowe.”
He backed away from me, a deep frown on his face. “I need to know the condition you’re in, Miss Wright.”
“My condition is in my hand and nowhere else.”
We looked hard at one another for several moments, and it was like a game of who could look away first.
“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…”
I groaned at the song and face-palmed myself with my other hand. Great, the doctor won. I shut my eyes shut tightly as the words I’d just said echoed through my head. I have a police officer for a father. “No, you idiot,” I whispered aloud, “I had a police officer for a father. Had. He’s dead. He’s not a fucking cop anymore. Do you have a salve for that, Doctor Crowe?”