Patch (Silver Saints MC)

“Do you live alone?”

“Uh-huh.” My brows pulled together. “Why do you need to know this stuff?”

“Although your concussion is mild, you can’t be home alone right now,” he explained.

My shoulders slumped forward. “I really don’t want to stay in the hospital even a minute longer than I need to, but it would take my parents a day to get here if they drove straight through without any stops. And I haven’t even had the chance to tell them what happened yet since the mugger took my cell phone.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw when my voice cracked at the end. Pulling his phone out of his lab coat pocket, he offered the device to me. “If you know their number, you can call them using mine.”

“I don’t have them memorized. My dad made sure I had them written down in case I ever lost my phone, but the mugger has my notebook too,” I wailed, finally losing the battle against my tears. The tablet he’d been using to take notes on was slammed onto the bedside table hard enough that it was sure to have broken. Then he bent over me, pressing my face against his chest as he stroked a hand up and down my back.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed locked together, but by the time I was done, I was exhausted. My head was throbbing, my eyes were swollen, and my throat was scratchy. I wanted nothing more than to be at home, curled up in my bed with my favorite fuzzy blanket wrapped around me. But I couldn’t have that since I couldn’t be alone. “What am I going to do?”

His grip on my chin was gentle as he tipped my head back to look into my eyes. “You want to get out of here?”

“More than just about anything,” I whispered.

“Then the solution is obvious.” It was a good thing he didn’t stop there since my brain was addled, and I had no idea what he thought was so clear. “My shift just ended, so I’ll come home with you.”

“You’ll come home with me?” I echoed softly, common sense warring with hope inside me. “But I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be worse than my mugger.”

He tapped the place where his name was stitched onto his lab coat. “I’m a doctor. People put their lives into my hands every day. You can trust me.”

“So was Dr. Jekyll, and look what happened when he turned into Mr. Hyde.”

Before he had the chance to react to my reply—which was a wild one, but I was thinking about becoming a lit major and often compared real life to books—a nurse pulled the curtain open and poked her head inside. “Sorry for interrupting, but I was finishing up with the patient next to you and couldn’t help but overhear.” She pointed at Dr. Dabney. “I’m not sure if it’ll help since you don’t know me either, but Dr. Dabney is one of the good ones. He actually listens to the nurses when he’s called down to the ER for a consult, which is a rare thing for attendings. Let alone neurology. And we can all tell how much he cares about his patients.”

Her endorsement eased some of my concern. “Um, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She flashed me a friendly grin before pulling her head back.

After the curtain closed behind her, Dr. Dabney brushed his thumb across my cheek. “So what’s it going to be, Willa? Stay here or let me come home with you so I can make sure your concussion doesn’t worsen overnight?”

It turned out he was right—the solution was obvious. Not only did I need someone to watch over me for medical reasons but I also wouldn’t feel safe at my place if I was by myself. Having him there with me would go a long way in easing my fears. There was only one snag. “I don’t even know your first name. It would be awkward for me to call you Dr. Dabney the whole time, don’t you think?”

“Good point, sweetheart.” He dropped his hand to slide his palm against mine and squeeze. “It’s Kurt.”

I took a deep breath to help quell the butterflies that had taken flight in my belly. Kurt was smart, sexy, and a good guy. “Okay, Kurt. I guess I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

“Thanks for putting your faith in me, Willa.” He lifted my hand and brushed a kiss across my knuckles. “I swear you won’t regret it.”

The next thirty minutes went by in a blur—but the good kind this time, unlike right after I was mugged. Kurt had the nurse get my discharge papers while he took care of a few things. When I was ready to go, he insisted on being the one to push the wheelchair instead of the orderly who brought it over.