Page 18 of The Potter

A simple oak door with a gold plate labeledRestroom.

NotWomen’s RestroomorMen’s Restroom. JustRestroom.

So, I pushed it open, already pulling at the bottom of my dress before coming to a halt.

Slumped on the floor, a dark head is bowed over his legs. “Dr. Potter?”

Now, if this were any other person, I would have rushed to his side, but this is the man who threw me out of his office and looks at me like I’m the very last person he ever wants to see again.

So, I hesitate.

It’s a natural reaction.

You wouldn’t run headfirst into a lion’s den, would you?

No. Exactly. I don’t have a death wish.

So, I try again. This time louder. “Dr. Potter, are you alright?”

I mean, maybe he’s such a day drinker that he catches naps on the bathroom floor? I, personally, love to nap in a hammock, but to each his own.

Dr. Potter doesn’t answer me, so I bravely creep closer, stretching my hand out carefully. “Vance?” I truly expected a reaction after addressing him by his first name. “Can you hear me?”

I can see his chest rising, so he’s definitely breathing. That’s a plus. The last thing I need is to call the coroner to take away the only man who can help me.

That would be some terribly shitty irony.

Placing my hand on Vance’s shoulder, I squeeze, giving it a small shake, and wait.

And wait.

Great, my future surgeon is a drug addict. Seriously, if he’s OD’d, I’m going to be seriously disappointed. But I would accept his decision. Eventually.

Standing, I go to the sink and wet the fancy hand towel hanging from a gold hook. I give it a few twists and say a small prayer that Vance doesn’t scream at me when he’s finally conscious.

Lifting his head gently, I can’t help but notice the lines in his face, pinched, like even in his unconsciousness, he’s not content.

My chest tightens, forming a band of pressure around my heart.

We all have demons, don’t we, Dr. Potter?

I brush the damp, chocolate curls from his face, taking a moment to admire the pouty frown and sharp cheekbones. If his eyes were open, I would admire the dark lashes framing a brilliant pair of emerald green eyes.

Dr. Potter is living, breathing art. Beautiful beyond what is fair.

“Vance,” I whisper carefully, pressing the cold towel to his forehead. “Open your eyes.”

With one last shake to his shoulder, Vance’s eyes flash open, going from confused to angry in a matter of two slow blinks.

“Get away from me,” he growls, snatching the towel from my hand and tossing it.

“Oh, you’re welcome.” I ignore his ungrateful comment. “I was just about to wet my pants, but I saw a demon on the floor and thought,might as well help the jerk of the world before I take care of my own needs.”

He draws his knees up. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”

“This isyourbathroom?” I look around, trying to find any indication this is aVance Onlyrestroom, and find nothing. “I didn’t see a sign.”

He narrows his eyes like I’m the dumbest person he’s ever seen. “It’s on my hall.”

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