Page 2 of Torch
“Jesus, you’re a whiny bitch. Lemme go get you that drink before you start to cry or some shit.”
Grace
Thankgodthatbikerturned up when he did, because every time I had to go and check on that guy, it was like my inhibitions all disappeared on me, along with all sense of propriety. He was my patient. And a biker, a criminal, exactly the wrong kind of man for someone like me.
Most importantly though, he was my patient. Doctors weren’t supposed to fraternise with patients, and I wasn’t about to break the rules for someone like him.
I leaned against the wall around the corner from his room, and breathed slowly, trying to forget that tingle of desire between my legs, because I really did find him sexy. There was something about him, a vulnerability he tried so hard to cover up with smart mouthed comments, and sexual innuendos. And the moment one of his biker brothers showed up, that attitude was ramped up tenfold, and I lost that thread of humanity in him that I was so attracted to.
I’d gone home after shifts, thinking about him, and eventually riding my fingers or my B.o.B, while I imagined him being the one thrusting deep inside me. Clearly I’d gone so long without sex that I was just fantasising about the first bad boy that came along.
I straightened up, nodding at another doctor as he strode by, a curious look on his face. He wasn’t one I knew, but I realised how I must look, some wanton whore draped against the wall like she was in heat, and desperate for a man to satisfy her.
I had to stop lusting over the wrong kind of guy, the ones who’d break my heart after sleeping with me, or drag me down into their desperate mess of a life.
“Dr Adams? Can you take a look at this for me? The patient’s refusing a biopsy, but I think it’s needed.” It was one of the newer doctors, so I was glad she took the initiative to ask. I was new here too, but not new to being a doctor, so I always helped support the others with the experience of my years in the field.
“Sure, let’s go see them, but remember there may be a specific reason they’re afraid to have a biopsy. Do they suffer from health anxiety, for example?” I always asked that question, because that was my deep dark secret. Crippling health anxiety that made me avoid medical appointments, or treatments, even though I knew they were important.
Knowing the truth about medical facts, and ailments was a terrifying thing for a person who suffered from health anxiety. Worse than googling symptoms, was knowing exactly what they might mean, and what the worst case scenario would be. Our minds always went straight to the worst case scenario, so I felt like I was particularly sympathetic to those who suffered the same mental ailment as me. If only there was a damn cure for it.
On the way to meet Dr Aisling’s patient, I crossed paths with that snarky biker again, carrying two cups of coffee from the machine. He gave me a lascivious look as he drew level with me.
“You’re way too hot for him, doc. Gimme a call when you want a real man, yeah?”
Ugh, I shot him my fiercest glare as I passed him without a word, but I wasn’t sure if he even got the message. At least with Danny North, or Torch as he kept insisting I call him, I had a feeling he’d eventually accept it if I gave him a clear message to leave me alone. I wasn’t sure enough of any of his biker brothers to have the same restraint in the same situation.
Two
Shedidn’tfuckingcomeback before I was discharged, and yeah, obviously I was pissed, but also I was kinda hurt by it. I knew that she was resistant to me, or maybe what I represented as a biker, but she’d flirted a little, even if sometimes it seemed like she hadn’t meant to.
The second frustrating as fuck part was when I got outside and realised I had to go back to the clubhouse in a fucking van. Where was my bike? Oh yeah, still being repaired after my accident, and not prioritised because I was laid up.
“You’re fucking serious, man?”
Ryder groaned, running his hand through those floppy fucking locks of his.
“Yes, you know there’s been shit going on, man. Yours wasn’t the only bike tampered with, or damaged in an accident recently, plus you know, there’s a fucking serial killer attacking the club.”
“Yeah, I think I found his knife at one point,” I muttered snarkily, knowing that me getting stabbed and left for dead was probably not quite at the joking point yet. Maybe another week.
“Not funny, asshole. I thought you were fucking dead. I swear, you do that to me again, and I’ll kill you myself,” Ryder snapped, climbing into the van and waiting for me to join him.
“Just saying, I was looking forward to riding my baby out of here.”
He smirked as he started the engine in this heap of crap.
“The way I heard it, you wanted to ride the ‘baby’ you met back in there.” He jerked a thumb back at the hospital building, as he headed out of the car park.
Yeah, fucking right, I did. I still couldn’t believe she’d stayed away, and not said goodbye. Didn’t I mean a fucking thing to her?
“Torch?”
I scratched at the stubble on my head, looking forward to it being shaved again, as soon as fucking possible.
“Yeah, I mean, she was hot. You saw her, but she’s playing hard to get right now. Doesn’t mean I’m giving up.”
He kept shooting me this weird look, and eventually when we were stopped at a red light, I’d had enough, punching his arm to get him to look at me.
