3. Rosie

Chapter Three

Rosie

"Which room?" I asked.

"Exam room two," Harry, one of the nurses on duty, replied as he hurried past me.

The emergency room department at Fireweed Harbor's small hospital was busy in the summer. During the quieter months of the year, we could count on some slow nights with bursts of excitement. Come summer, when the town's population quadrupled, the pace was relentless. With fishing hooks flying through the air and accidental wildlife encounters, not only were we busy but every day was also interesting. I never wondered when my shift would end because I didn't have time to look at the clock.

As the supervisory nurse on duty, I was technically in charge, but we all knew what the hell we were doing here. When it was busy, it was like watching an engine at work with one lever pulling the next. In this case, I was the lever available for the newest emergency. I had just finished helping stabilize a grandfather, who was still shocked he'd had a minor heart attack. He insisted he did everything perfectly as far as diet and exercise. Meanwhile, his wife, who clearly loved him, had explained to me that his idea of taking good care of himself was more aspirational than actual.

I almost ran past the exam room, catching myself at the last minute before knocking lightly on the door. "Come in!" the medical assistant called out.

When I walked in, I glanced over to see Wyatt. My husband . I reflexively fingered the ring on a necklace under my scrubs. I couldn't bring myself to wear it on my hand, but for some inexplicable reason, I couldn't not wear it. I still couldn't figure out why I hadn't filed for divorce.

Wyatt's blue eyes met mine as he gave me a sheepish smile. He sat before me with a big fish hook sticking out of his shoulder.

"Is that a halibut hook?" I asked.

I glanced over at the medical assistant who was biting his lip and trying really hard not to laugh. Meanwhile, Wyatt let out a resigned sigh. "Go ahead and laugh. I won't take offense."

The med assistant Danny finally let loose a chuckle, his eyes twinkling as he met my gaze. "It is a halibut hook. Wyatt tells me he's a fishing expert and isn't sure how this happened."

I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from laughing myself. When I looked back at Wyatt, he shrugged. He circled his hand in the air. "Just laugh. You know you want to. Better get it out so you don't have to hold it in the whole time."

I finally laughed as I approached him. "I'm sure you've already told Danny, and I can read the notes, but how about you let me know what happened? I'm dying to hear."

When I stopped maybe a foot away where he sat on the exam table, it felt like the equivalent of walking into a force field. It locked around us, a vibrating force so powerful I could feel it in my bones. I ignored the way my pulse galloped along like a happy pony let out to pasture.

"I was fishing, and… just poor focus on my part. Blake and I are teaching Lia how to catch halibut, and I should've been paying better attention."

Lia was Wyatt's niece and newer to Alaska. She and her mother had only moved here a few years prior. I bit the insides of my cheeks again as I nodded, keeping my gaze solemn.

"Can I take a look?" I asked.

"That's exactly what he told me," Danny chimed in as he stood from the small wheeled desk where the computer monitor was mounted with an adjustable keyboard. "I have all his stats in there. Blood pressure is normal, nothing out of the ordinary. It looks like he'll need a few stitches. Do you want me to stay?" He glanced toward Wyatt for this.

"Are you asking because you're worried that I don't feel safe with Rosie?" Wyatt looked genuinely befuddled.

"Technically, yes," Danny replied.

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Safe and sound. Trust her completely."

"If you need anything, just page me," Danny added before he left.

A moment later, it was just Wyatt and me in this small exam room. This was actually the first time we'd been together alone since that fated morning. I'd woken up married with my body sore from head to toe in all kinds of delicious ways.

He waggled his brows when I met his gaze again. I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus.

"So, uh, you got a fish hook in your shoulder, and—" I gestured to the side of his head where a piece of gauze was in place.

Wyatt winced. "I bonked my head on the corner of the boat windshield. It's nothing, but it hurt like hell at the time."

"I bet." As I studied him, I could see he was trying to keep his pain at bay. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead, and his skin was pale under the bright glare of the overhead lights. "Are you okay?" I asked gently.

He cleared his throat and nodded. "I'd just like to get the hook out of my shoulder and get stitched up. Will you be doing that?" He looked a little worried, and my heart felt pinched.

My usual calm, dispassionate approach was feeling wobbly. It wasn't that I didn't care about my patients, but we had to keep our emotions at a distance in this work. Otherwise, we'd be sobbing some nights, and that wouldn't usually help patients stay calm. In this case, Wyatt would be fine. He was fine. But no matter what I tried to tell myself, I cared about him. An awful lot.

I took a slow breath and turned away. "Let me see…" I spun the computer monitor in my direction, quickly scanning his info. "It says here you rated your pain at a four?"

When I arched a brow in question, he shrugged, clearly not thinking about the hook buried in one of his shoulders. He immediately winced, his breath hissing in through his teeth. "Well, now it's maybe a seven."

"Can I persuade you to take something for your pain? It says in there that you said ibuprofen would do the trick."

"It will," he said firmly. "I'm scared of those pain meds. They ruin lives."

"It's a reasonable fear, but they are warranted in this situation. Taking a single dose is safe. You have a giant hook in your shoulder, Wyatt," I pointed out.

He rolled his eyes again and heaved a sigh. "Just tell me how to get out of here as quickly as possible."

"I will do my absolute best to make that happen," I replied, feeling my heart soften as I studied him. This strong, tough man, a hotshot firefighter wrapped in a muscled body that I knew intimately, seemed vulnerable. The hospital wasn't fun for anyone. In a case like this, it was incredibly frustrating. When things were dicey, people tended to have a little more patience. Wyatt would be fine, but he definitely needed stitches. Entering the hospital was like hopping on a conveyor belt. It was a one-way journey, and you had to stay on it until you made it all the way through to the other side.

I tipped my head to the side. "You're going to be fine. We'll get that hook out, the doctor will come and stitch you up, and you'll be off. We'll send you home with some antibiotics to prevent infection."

"Can't you do all of this?" he asked, startling me as I moved to turn away and felt his hand curl around my wrist. His touch was like a flame encircling my wrist.

"There's a lot I can do, but the doctor has to handle the stitches. Plus…" Pausing, I cleared my throat. "We have a personal relationship. I probably shouldn't be the one handling this."

Wyatt was quiet as he stared at me. "This is Fireweed Harbor. You have a personal relationship with half the damn town."

I pressed my lips together. "I know. This isn't that big of a deal. But the doctor's the one who needs to stitch you up, not me."

I moved to go again, and Wyatt tightened his grip on my wrist. His touch was so light that the shift was incremental. "What is it?" I asked.

"I think you know," he pointed out.

"I know?" Heat flashed into my cheeks.

"How long do you plan to ignore me?"

"I'm not ignoring you, Wyatt," I ground out. "We just have to figure out this whole divorce thing."

"Why?" he pressed.

"Wyatt!" I was exasperated.

"Tell me you've had it as good with anyone else," he said flatly.

My pulse hummed along at a breakneck pace, and I tried to take a steadying breath, but I could barely get any air into my lungs. I wanted to lie—I really, really did—but found that I couldn't.

"Let's see how it goes," he said.

"See how what goes?"

"Us," he said, his voice clear and decisive.

While I was shying away from the situation, Wyatt was running at it, full bore.

It felt like my heart might fly straight out of my chest. I took a shaky breath. "See how it goes?"

It might have seemed like I was hedging, avoiding, and playing dumb, but I actually wasn't. I didn't even know what to think. See how what went? Our absolutely impulsive marriage? Our insanely hot night?

I was embarrassed that I couldn't remember getting married, except for a few vague details. Yet, while maybe not completely clear, my memory of our night together was vivid and visceral. I could feel it in my body, remember his dark eyes, the feel of his weight over me, the feel of him filling me and bringing me to climax after climax.

As I held his gaze, I realized he was serious.

I had avoided admitting my feelings to myself for years. That night in Vegas wasn't our first rodeo. We had a fling one week before I started nursing school. That week had been impossible to forget.

Dating was like picking my way through a wasteland of assholes. It seemed like every guy just wanted benefits. They didn't even want to be friends. Even that was too much to ask.

That week with Wyatt had sent my expectations skyrocketing up and over into the stratosphere. Every attempt with any guy since had been a huge disappointment. I felt like I was broken. I would sigh and go home and wonder what the hell I was doing. Conveniently, my job was an easy distraction, and I was always busy. I could sign up for extra shifts whenever I wanted. I could tell myself I was too busy for a relationship.

Ever since the pandemic, health care had been caught in a brutal cycle of staff leaving. It had started before that with the misery of insurance companies denying much-needed health care left and right. Since the pandemic, the pace of staff leaving had picked up. Despite all that, I still loved my job.

I kept busy working and could forget about wishing I could find a relationship. I didn't like to think much about why I had my own reasons for struggling to connect emotionally with someone.

"Rosie," Wyatt prompted. His voice was soft and gruff, and my heart thumped unsteadily.

I had tried to tell myself it was nothing more than a fluke of wild chemistry with him. Since he'd lived away from Fireweed Harbor for years, I didn't have to face him often, but now that he'd moved back, I kept bumping into him. Not only was our hometown small but our social circles were pretty much the same. My friends were married to his brothers. McKenna, his only sister, was one of my closest friends.

It felt like every time I turned around, Wyatt was there. Then Vegas happened. I felt the warmth of that cheap wedding band against my breastbone, where it rested behind my scrubs. I didn't even know why I was wearing it.

"What?" I pressed.

"It's not like Vegas was our first round," he pointed out.

He reached for my hand, and I didn't resist. His touch was warm, and his thumb brushed along the outer edge of my palm as he studied me. I felt exposed with his attention so focused on me.

"I think it's worth seeing how it goes. If things work out, well, we don't have to plan a wedding." The way his lips curled up at one corner sent heat in a swirl through me and tingles radiating outward.

My belly felt ticklish, and I felt knocked off balance inside.

When I didn't reply, he added, "We can get divorced if you insist."

I swallowed. I didn't understand why I hadn't pushed this divorce thing sooner. Instead, I was trying to pretend Wyatt didn't exist, trying to pretend we hadn't had the hottest nights ever together.

"So what do we do?" I was a little shocked that I asked that. His eyes widened slightly. "I'm not ready to tell people what happened," I added quickly.

"What are we keeping secret?" he pressed.

"Our marriage." I was flustered. With heat pooling in my belly and my skin prickling all over, the feel of the flush on my cheeks only added to my state.

He lifted his other hand, his fingers lightly pressing over the ring hiding behind my scrubs. "Why are you wearing this?"

I tried to take a deep breath, but all I got was a tiny sip of air. "I don't know." I hated how Wyatt tended to draw honesty out of me. Desperate for distraction, I pointed out, "You know, you have a fish hook in your shoulder, and we really need to take care of that."

He didn't look away as he nodded slowly. His hand dropped away from my chest. He reached under his shirt to pull out his wedding band on a silver chain. I licked my lips before whispering, "Oh."

He tucked it back under his shirt before pulling me a little closer. With him seated on the exam table, his eyes were a little higher than mine. He palmed my cheek. Before I could think, I felt the shock of his lips on mine. His kiss started slow and lingering. His tongue glided across the seam of my lips as they opened to him, and I let out a needy sigh. I was desperate for him. I took a step closer, my hand pressing on his chest as our tongues tangled.

We broke apart, and I could barely breathe as I stared at him.

"Think about it," he said, his dark gaze boring into mine.