Page 27 of Dr. Bad Boy

I’ve got muffins in the car, not that those are better.

What I need to do is set up a food delivery service. Chicken and vegetables, fish and vegetables, vegetables and vegetables. It’ll be incredibly boring and perfectly healthy.

Of course now I just want pizza.

I’ll worry about being perfectly healthy tomorrow.

I head through the adult side of Emerg, since the cafeteria access is on that side, and I’m nearly out the door when I hear a woman gasp. “Ow. No, I’m fine.”

My body stops, suddenly hyper aware of the bed in the corner.

From behind the curtain I hear, “Well I’m notfine, Matthew, but I got here on my own.”

Violet.

In this building, I’m a professional. Suddenly I’m not so sure about that. I’m only in this space because of my role as a physician.

It would be a terrible breach of privacy for me to approach her, especially given our last few encounters.

On the other hand, she’s hurt.

And who the fuck is Matthew?

Just then a nurse moves past me, toward Violet’s bed, and pulls the curtain back.

I stare at her. She’s in the same clothes as earlier, jeans and a soft sweater. Her hand is wrapped in a blood-soaked tea towel.

The nurse asks her something, but Violet doesn’t answer because she’s seen me, and now we’re staring at each other.

She wants to ignore me. If I give her a chance, she’ll pull her shit together and do just that, or die trying, but that’s bullshit. Her face is drawn, her colouring off, and her breathing is definitely irregular. She’s not handling the pain well.

I cross the room in a few long strides.

“What happened?” I don’t care if I sound brusque.

“Cut myself—ah!—chopping vegetables.” Her eyes tense up again as she glances to where the nurse is unwrapping her hand. The wound looks deep, but her fingers all have even colouring.

The nurse asks her to wiggle her fingers. Good movement, but it makes her bleed again and she whimpers at the sight.

I must have made a face, because she makes one back and rolls her eyes at me for good measure. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly.” I round the bed, on the far side of where she’s being attended to. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

I lift my hands and lower my voice. “So I can help you, nothing more.”

She hesitates.

“Or I can ask you who Matthew is and why you won’t let him be here for you.”

That gets a smile out of her, and she closes her eyes. “Again, that’s none of your business.”

So he’s the guy who called her while we were eating dinner in her office. “Boyfriend?”

She hesitates. “No.”

“Is he—”

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