Medicine Man

“The side where craziness lives. And I’m not talking about the useless kind.”

Simon studies me with a clamped jaw before nodding and stepping back. “Well, you have a good day, and for your sake, I hope you don’t play poker.”

I played poker.

But I’m not very good at it. So, I kinda lost. I’m up to about twelve thousand in debt, that I have to pay when I get out of here next week. We’re all very heavy betters here at Heartstone.

I’m in my bed, sitting in the exact same position, drawing shapes on the window. It’s raining again. Heavy and loud, masking every other sound but the sound of the sky falling.

The night nurse just peeked in through the window and I was pretending to be asleep. It’s midnight and there’s exactly fifty-three minutes till another hourly check. He’s three minutes later than yesterday.

Like last night, I sense when the door of my room opens and he enters.

Immediately, I’m up on my feet. The floorboards creak, but tonight, I’m a little calmer about it. I shouldn’t be, though. It’s dangerous.

“You’re late,” I whisper as I take in his form, dark and tall. Kind of menacing, but kind of not.

Tonight, the darkness doesn’t seem so dark. I’m more adjusted to it. I can see the messed-up strands of his hair, the look in his eyes and the wet splotches on his shirt as he walks closer to me.

“You should be sleeping right now,” he says, gruffly.

“You should be too.”

“Insomnia can exacerbate your condition, Willow,” he informs me.

I almost pout. “As far as I know, you also have trouble falling asleep.”

“We’re not talking about me. And I’m not the one with a Major Depressive Disorder.”

Okay, enough.

I don’t want to fight when there are other issues at stake.

“Why are you wet?” I reach out and catch the stray droplets on his throat with my finger.

I feel him swallow. “I almost went back to my hotel.”

Halting my movements, I eye him. “Why?”

His jaw moves but he doesn’t say anything. I guess that’s my answer – he didn’t want to come. My heart clenches as I ask, “How far did you make it?”

He puts his wet hands on my waist, making me gasp from the chill. “Halfway to the hospital gates.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You were laughing too much. With him.”

I clench my thighs at his tone. All roughed up and angry.

I know I shouldn’t have. I know he was aware of it, me playing poker. We were in the rec room and he was by the door. There was a chart in his hands and he was staring down at it. But I knew that he was attuned to my every move. It’s a thing he does, where he watches me without being obvious, without even directly looking at me.

It’s unnerving and so fucking arousing. It’s like whatever I do, however I move, he takes it all in. It’s heady to be this much at the center of someone’s attention. It messes with all my control. My rationality. It drives me insane.

It makes me fall for him with open arms, and in a white dress.

My hands slide over to his shoulders and I feel his roped muscles under my palms. “I’m not interested in him.”

I’m interested in you.

He tugs me closer until I go flush with his damp body. “Good. He’s not the guy for you.”

I cup his hard jaw, wiping off droplets, feeling the texture of his stubble. “Are you the guy for me, then?”

“No.”

It might take me an eternity to convince him that yes, he is the guy for me. He’s the only guy for me. But I only have seven days to fit in an eternity worth of wooing.

And tonight is the night.

I’m going to give him something. A gift. My trust in the form of my body. My virginity.

Yes, I’m aware that it might be silly to have sex and then magically expect him to fall in love with me.

But the thing is this is all I have. My body, my desire, my lust. This is the purest part of me. My need for him is unpolluted, the one thing I own, and I’ll give him that. I’ll give him my trust.

If it’s stupid, then so be it.

I watch the moisture dripping along the line of his sculpted cheeks. “What does the nurse think tonight? About where you are?”

“Supply closet. She thinks I’m the best doctor she’s ever worked with because I’m helping her with the inventory. Better than even my father.” He scoffs, “But I’m not better, am I? I’m only pretending to help her, so I can come see you. I’m like him.”

It’s important for him. To be better than his dad. It shows in every part of his large body. I remember from our first meeting when we talked about his dad and he clammed up.