Page 45 of Fall for Him

“Did you get mugged?”

“No.” Derek touched his eye reflexively. “It’s fine.”

“You look like you lost a fight with something with fists and claws.”

Derek glared, puffing out his chest. “Why would you assume I lost?”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “Certainly not because you lack machismo.”

Hey!”

“Christ, Derek, what happened?” Dylan’s hand lifted to the eye. He traced a gentle finger along the area below the swelling. It should be weird. Right?

Derek shrugged. “A patient went berserk. It happens.”

“What do you mean it happens?” Dylan was practically shaking. Such a contrast from the weeks of flat composure. “You were assaulted. Are you pressing charges?

At that, Derek barked a laugh. “We’ve all been assaulted.”

“All of who—”

“Olive nearly got a chunk of her hair torn out one day. I think Joni got kicked just last week. And that’s nothing compared to what we’ve seen happen to other staff members.”

Dylan shifted forward, lifting his chin. All his attention remained locked on Derek as he pushed his glasses back up his nose to get a better look at the injury. Why did a small something in Derek’s chest go soft and fuzzy? He’d seen Dylan irritated and detached, but he had never seen his freckles turn pink with anger. “That… This… this is not okay.”

“Not a felony to assault a nurse.”

“That’s complete bullshit. Are you staying home tomorrow? This looks serious.”

“My CT scan was fine, and I need the cash right now. Not really in a can-afford-to-call-out financial situation.”

“You got a CT scan? That means they thought it was serious. What the actual fuck?” Despite his voice rising, Dylan didn’t back away. Indignation seemed to freeze him to the spot. A spot so close to Derek’s body that Dylan’s arm kept grazing the drawstring of Derek’s pants with every gesticulation.

“The scan was just a precaution in case something’s wrong. CYA for the hospital.” It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten hurt on the job. Wouldn’t be the last.

“CYA for the hospital? You should be getting—I don’t know, like, hazard pay for this. That patient can’t come back there, right? Like, they were arrested?”

Derek couldn’t help it. He was laughing again. It was wild how little people knew about working in an emergency department.

“This isn’t funny, Derek.” Dylan grabbed his shoulders. “You’re hurt. Can I get you ice? Frozen peas? A raw steak like in a cartoon? I think I have a little left uncooked in the fridge. This entire thing is ridiculous, and—”

“Dylan.” Before he knew why, he was grinning. “I’m okay. Really. Stop freaking out.” His chin dipped lower.

Derek had never called him Dylan before. It had always been Gallagher or him or that asshole, mostly. Only a couple inches of space separated them, and both seemed to realize their closeness at the same moment.

Dylan’s tongue dragged over his lips as if indignation made his mouth go dry. Derek followed the movement with his eyes. Dylan’s hand lifted toward Derek’s face again, and Derek leaned a fraction closer.

“How bad does it hurt?” Although he’d just been yelling, his voice lowered into tenderness.

“It’s fine. I iced it there. Barely even sore.”

Dylan’s fingertip traced the edge of the bruising again. The whisper of pressure from his touch sent a current of lightning down Derek’s spine. His eyes closed. Something deep inside Derek’s chest felt softer, but a different part of Derek was rock hard, and there was no hiding it in scrubs.

Derek opened his eyes and, shit… Dylan’s eyes were so damn blue and so damn earnest. He reached up and pulled the thick frames off his face. The right corner of Dylan’s mouth tugged upward into a crooked smile. That smile did things to Derek. Things he’d rather not admit.

“What did you mean about my eyes?” Dylan’s voice caught on the last word.

“What? When?”

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