Chapter 2
Alicia
I knew his type the second I walked into that room.
Damon Strathmore. The Damon Strathmore. Baseball’s golden boy. Poster child for athletic arrogance. If confidence could be bottled and sold at department stores to dumb girls looking to get their hearts broken, he’d be the brand ambassador. I'd seen him before, well, not in real life, but the internet did a fine job of making sure everyone knew what his smirk looked like at close range. Every inch of him screamed trouble, from the lazy way he leaned against the bed like it was a throne to the spark in his eyes, like he was seconds from making a nurse quit.
So, no I wasn’t surprised when he tried to charm me. I wasn’t even flattered. I was tired.
“Sit,” I’d told him, and God, the way he stared at me like I’d just said “let’s run away together and open a beach bar in Bali”...it was almost pathetic. Cute. But still pathetic.
I didn’t have time for cuteness. Not when my shift was twelve hours, did my feet feel like bricks, and my stomach was running on hospital coffee and half a granola bar I found in my bag from yesterday.
But still, he was funny. In a stupid, try-hard, mildly charming way that almost made me want to laugh. Almost. I didn’t. That would’ve been too easy. Too soon. And Damon Strathmore looked like a man who’d take one laugh and run a hundred miles with it.
Still, when I left his room, I felt… different.
Which annoyed the hell out of me.
“He’s awake,” I told Margo at the station. She was sipping her fifth espresso shot through a straw, flipping through patient notes.
“Awake as in stable? Or awake as in… Damon?”
I raised a brow. “You know him?”
“Girl. Everyone knows him. The guy could sneeze and Sports Nation would run a whole segment on it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well. He tried to pull out his IV. Again.”
“That’s the third time.”
“Fourth.”
Margo winced. “Still hot, though?”
“Annoyingly.”
She grinned. “Bet he flirted.”
“Called me Angel.”
Margo let out a whistle. “Damn. The classics.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve heard worse. From less attractive idiots.”
“But you think he’s attractive?”
I paused. Too long.
Margo laughed again. “Oh no. You’re doomed.”
I snatched the chart from the counter, ignoring the way my ears burned. “I’ve got rounds. Text me if room six codes.”
But as I walked away, I could still feel that weird heat in my chest, like he’d somehow cracked into my system and started rewiring circuits without permission. God, I hated that. I hated that he was funny. I hated that he was more observant than expected. I hated that he looked at me like I wasn’t just a nurse, like I was someone.
I didn’t need someone seeing me like that.
The last guy who looked at me like that? Ended up cheating with my roommate and blaming me for working too much. He said I was “emotionally unavailable” because I’d missed his mother’s birthday party to cover a night shift. Whatever. I was done with men like Damon. The type that thought affection could be bought with charm and a lopsided smile.
Still, later in the evening, when I walked into his room with fresh meds and a clipboard, I didn’t expect to find him… pacing.
I narrowed my eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
He turned like a kid caught stealing cookies. “Stretching. Walking. Being alive.”
“Being an idiot,” I corrected, grabbing his arm and forcing him back on the bed. “You want a brainbleed? Because that’s how you get a brain bleed.”
“I’m fine—”
“You were concussed, Damon. You hit your head hard enough to forget your name for ten minutes.”
He raised a brow. “Ten minutes isn’t bad.”
“You also tried to flirt with the EMT and called her ‘Mommy,’ so let’s not act like you had a solid grasp on reality.”
“… Okay. That one’s not my proudest moment.”
I tried not to smile. Tried.
But he caught it. “See? That’s the smile I was waiting for. You like me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Delusional… and devastatingly handsome.”
I shook my head. “You’re exhausted.”
He grinned. “So, you’re saying I made an impression?”
“You’re lucky I haven’t sedated you yet.”
He held up his hands. “Kinky.”
“Gross.”
He laughed, and this time, it was different. Softer. Real. No cameras. No stadium lights. Just Damon. And something in my chest twitched like maybe I hadn’t locked all the doors as tight as I thought.
But then the door creaked open behind me.
And I turned expecting maybe Margo with more meds, or another intern. But it wasn’t.
It was a woman. Tall. Blonde. Designer heels clicking against tile like this was a movie set, not a hospital.
“Oh,” she said, blinking. “Is this… a bad time?”
Damon sat up straighter. “Sabrina?”
My spine stiffened.
The woman’s face cracked into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I came as soon as I heard. They said you hit your head. Again.”
“I…uh, yeah. Just a minor bump.”
She stepped into the room like she belonged there. Like I was the one who needed to leave. “You’re always getting into trouble, aren’t you?”
I cleared my throat. “Visiting hours end in thirty minutes.”
She looked at me then really looked. Dismissive. I’d seen that look before. The kind that says "I could buy your entire salary with my shoes." Then she turned back to Damon like I didn’t exist.
“Don’t mind her,” she said sweetly, brushing hair off his forehead. “It’ll only be a minute.”
Damon looked at me. Not at her.
And something in my chest flinched.
“I uh…” he started, awkwardly shifting. “Actually, can you give us a second, Alicia?”
I nodded.
Of course. Why wouldn’t I? He had a concussion. A brain injury. What was I expecting? That he actually meant all that stuff he said earlier?
God. I was such a fool. I shut the door behind me.
And leaned against the wall, breathing slowly.
No. Nope. I wasn’t doing this. Not again. Not falling for a guy whose eyes wandered the second, a prettier option walked in. Not getting suckered into another illusion of something real just because he knew how to make me laugh.
Let him have Sabrina. Let him go back to his stadiums and sponsorships and girls who wore heels in hospitals.
I had patients. I had a purpose.
I didn’t need anyone.
Especially not him.
Still… When I walked past the door again an hour later and saw her storming out, lips tight and phone pressed to her ear like she was cursing someone’s bloodline, I paused.
Just for a second.
And when I peeked into the room again, Damon was staring out the window.
Alone.
Looking a little less smug. A little more… human.
And that? That was more dangerous than anything else.