Page 18 of Bronx

"Ah, yes the whole trying to impress a girl motive. That is more common than you think. Is she your girlfriend?"

"She won't be now. She only said yes to our first date because I told her I signed up to be a smokejumper. She thought it was cool and heroic. Now she'll dump me for sure." He looked genuinely heartbroken. And no one knew what that looked like more than me. I saw it every time I looked in the mirror and thought about Layla.

"You don't know that. Maybe she'll think this broken arm thing is cool, and she'll want to take care of you. If you're real lucky, you might be leaving here with some of those gnarly big pins going through your wrist." I might have gone one step too far in my pep talk. I forgot who I was talking to. "Lean over and put your head between your knees. You look like you're going to faint."

Bucky doubled over and put his face between his knees. I patted his back. "I'm probably wrong about the pins," I told him. "I'm no doctor."

"Bucky Ivans," a hospital attendant called.

Bucky was still working on getting oxygen back to his head. I tapped his shoulder. "Uh, hey buddy, that's you." I waved to the attendant. "We're coming."

Bucky straightened. The color had returned to his face. He stood up, but there was a waver in his walk. I was hoping to leave him on his own, but he looked unsteady and scared. I shouldn't have mentioned the pins.

I caught up to him. "I'll make sure you get into a room all right."

"Thanks, Bronx. See, I knew you were the nice one."

"Yeah, well you know what they say about nice guys," I muttered more to myself than to him.

We got into one of the exam rooms. "The nurse will be in to check your vitals. Sorry for the wait. We've been swamped," the attendant said and closed the curtain around the small space. Bucky sat on the exam table, and I sat in the side chair. My phone beeped in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was a text from King.

"Hey, you won the money. Weston made it in ten flat. He's fast. I think he'll make a great member of the team. How is my loser of a bet? Still can't believe the guy broke his arm just walking."

I texted back. "I agree about Weston. We're still waiting for him to be looked at by the doctor. I'm going to take off soon. Are we still on for beers tonight?" The curtains rolled open as I sent the text.

"Hello, Mr. Ivans, I see you hurt your arm."

Her voice sent instant shockwaves through me. I lifted my face. She glanced my direction, fleetingly, at first, then she gazed at me, her lips parted in surprise. "Jack," she said on a stunned breath. She instantly snapped into her professional mode and turned a sympathetic smile to Bucky. It gave me a chance to catch my breath.

Layla gently took hold of Bucky's fingers and examined his arm. "I'm sure the doctor will be ordering some x-rays." She looked over at me again. "Since you're both wearing Western Smokejumper t-shirts, I assume this had to do with training?" She tossed the question my direction, but Bucky, who was already looking starry eyed with love, answered.

"I'm in training to be a smokejumper. It's a cool gig. Dangerous but you know, it's an important job." He forgot to mention the small inconvenient fact that he'd basically failed the training with his broken arm, although Layla already knew that. Bucky had no way of knowing that though.

"Wow, that does sound dangerous," Layla said sweetly. "Well, let's take some vitals and then the doctor will come in and confirm the x-ray."

Layla set to work taking Bucky's vitals. I'd finally gathered my wits. This whole visit to the ER had turned out to be the highlight of the day.

"I didn't know you were working in ER," I said.

"They were shorthanded and I needed the money, so I volunteered for a few shifts." She placed the stethoscope in her ears.

"Do you know her?" Bucky whispered.

"Please hold still," Layla advised as she leaned over to listen for his blood pressure. Somehow, she managed to make nurse clothes and a stethoscope incredibly hot. A short erotic daydream of us playing doctor and patient rolled through my head. I shook it free before it landed me with a hard-on. In the few months since Layla and I had unceremoniously decided that it wouldn't be right for the two of us to date, I'd gone out on four dates. All first dates. After meeting Layla, I'd set the bar impossibly high. I wasn't sure I'd ever meet someone like her again. In fact, I was sure I wouldn't. It seemed my best bet was just to fall back on my earlier dating years where the main goal was to get laid and everything else was just the inconvenient part of dating. My shallow eighteen and nineteen-year-old self had a fucking good time, and there had been no sticky commitment or relationship issues. Shit, what a momentous dick I was in my late teens.

Layla pulled the stethoscope from her ears. God, her ears were perfection. How was someone made so perfectly? Everything I ever felt about her was coming back in a rush of feelings right there in that cold, sterile exam room with Bucky and his broken arm and whiny brow looking on.

A young male doctor walked in. He had that haughty, disaffected look that so many doctors wore as they dashed from room to room in their white coats. He was one of those well-groomed guys with a straight nose and dark hair. I supposed he was someone women would find attractive, especially with the MD behind his name.

He smiled graciously at Layla, and she smiled back. Suddenly, I was jealous as fuck of Mr. Dark Haired MD. Did they know each other well? How many times a day did some dickhead doctor smile at her?

Dr. Hoffman, as he'd introduced himself to Bucky, glanced for all of two seconds at the arm. "Nurse Rafferty, please let an orderly know they need to get Mr. Ivans to the x-ray room. I'll send the orders down." Layla left the room. She didn't even spare me a glance. Was she worried the doc would see?

Hoffman turned his attention back to Bucky. "Did you fall on it? It looks like the kind of injury we see when someone has been thrown from a mountain bike or horse where they took the full brunt of the fall in their wrist."

Bucky nodded. "I fell and there was a hundred pound pack on my back, so that sort of fell with me."

Dr. Hoffman, Mr. Fucking Smiley, acknowledged my presence for the first time. He looked pointedly at the logo on my shirt. "Training for the fire service?" he asked.

---