The workday finally reached its end. Or at least, I thought it had a minute ago.
“Anna!” Yulia, as always, burst into my office with a stack of papers she was barely holding together, practically clutching them with her teeth. “Nikolayovich is waiting for you in room seventeen!”
“Did he even check the time?” I grumble, gathering my things. “I’ve got a shift with the ambulance crew soon.”
“I don’t know if he did, but he says it’s a complicated case. He needs you!”
Ugh, a complicated case is working double shifts! Especially when everyone and their dog is pulling you in every direction on both of them!
“Alright, Yulia, I’ll go now. Did you see what’s going on there?”
“Oh, Anna, there’s such a man in there!” Yulia lets out a dramatic sigh. “I’ve only seen guys like him in the movies!”
“Don’t make things up! I hear this from you every shift!” I smirk at my colleague and friend as I throw on my green scrubs, which I’d just hung up in the locker.
“I’m serious!” Yulia calls after me, dragging out the word. “You’ll see for yourself!”
Oh, Yulia! We’ve been working together in the trauma ward for three years now. She specializes in pediatric cases, while I focus on sports injuries and other traumas. I love my job as a rehabilitation therapist, but if only I didn’t have that second shift… Still, what can I do? At home, I’ve got my stepson Dym (short for Dmitry, though he hates that name because it’s the same as his deadbeat dad’s, so he insists on his nickname) waiting for me, along with my late husband’s debts. And the debt collectors who show up like clockwork once or twice a month. Not exactly a life of leisure, but I should be grateful to even have a job. So, I pull myself together and head down to the ward. Nikolayovich wouldn’t call me in for just anything.
On the way, I hum a little tune under my breath. Singing to myself helps me unwind a bit. This time, it’s a silly song about “three cats, three tails” stuck in my head. (Where did I even hear that?)
Nikolayovich meets me in the hallway, rushing somewhere as usual. Honestly, he’s always running around.
“Anna, we’ve got a guy in there who needs to be back on his feet fast. Someone very important asked for our help. Can you take a look? He might still be asleep—they put his leg back together under light anesthesia today—but we need to start working on his arm right away. There’s some nerve damage, and it’s a mess. At least give me an assessment of what’s what. This is your specialty. I’ve gotta run—my Lucy scratched up someone’s car again. She’s crying on the phone.”
“Alright, Yuri Nikolayovich, I’ll take a look since I’m here.”
“Good girl! Don’t let me down! And I’ve already sorted things out with the ambulance team—they’ll cover for you tonight!”
“Oh, thank you! I could use the rest!”
Nikolayovich can be a real sweetheart when he wants to be. Especially when he needs something, like now. But I’m glad, too. I’ll spend an hour or two with the patient, whereas a shift would’ve kept me up until morning.
Humming the catchy little tune that’s stuck in my head like gum on a shoe, I open the door to room seventeen.
Three cats,
Three tails,
Three cats!
Three tails!!!
Oops, I think I just sang that last bit out loud, and with that, my voice gives out!
It’s like I can’t breathe!
Because lying on the orthopedic bed, carefully covered with a warm blanket instead of the standard hospital sheets, is him—the bear of a man who’s been haunting my thoughts all day, making it impossible to focus on work or rest. The same guy who scattered the “blue crew” like stray dogs the night before last and triggered a bout of tachycardia that even my trusty herbal remedy can’t calm…
How does that poor bed even hold him? He takes up the entire width, and his legs—one of them in a cast—stick out a bit over the edge.
Wearing nothing but underwear (thank goodness for that!), he’s covered by a blanket that only reaches up to his chest. That chest I buried my face in when he “saved” me. I can still remember how it felt!
Is this some kind of joke, or an early birthday gift? My birthday’s still a few days away, and I wouldn’t have asked for a surprise like this anyway.
His eyes are closed. I wonder what color they are? His stubble is no longer just a three-day shadow; it’s closer to a week’s worth. But it suits him. Square jaw, a scar on his neck just below it. A crease between his brows, as if he’s concentrating on something—or angry—even in his sleep.
Handsome, rugged—yes.
Irresistibly attractive…
Like a picture.
But for me, he’s like a sports car. I love looking at them, but I’d never get behind the wheel, let alone buy one. Even if I were a millionaire. Because it’s dangerous! There’s nothing more dangerous than sports cars and gorgeous men! My first love nearly got me kicked out of college. And my second—curly-haired and blue-eyed like an angel—vanished, leaving behind a teenage son and a pile of debts with collectors on my tail. So, enough is enough! No more men! Especially not ones straight out of a magazine! And definitely not ones like him!
I do some breathing exercises.
It helps a little.
I’m a rehabilitation therapist with three years of experience, and I’m going to focus on work and nothing else!
First, I grab his chart. And I can’t help but let out a low whistle in surprise.
Two gunshot wounds. A bullet grazed a nerve, leaving his right arm nonfunctional with impaired musculoskeletal functions. But there’s potential for recovery. Though it’s hard to say for sure just yet.
Only now, tearing my eyes away from him, do I notice a wheelchair in the corner of the room.
So much for my bear! Poor guy… but we’ll do what we can.
I won’t wake him. Some tests can be done while he’s asleep. Carefully, I lift the edge of the blanket. My gaze involuntarily slides over the defined muscles of his chest, up to his broad neck… He’s still wearing that chain—the one my hair got tangled in that night. Chain? More like a rope! My grandma’s guard dog in the village was tied up with something like that! Though not in gold, and I’m pretty sure this one is. This patient is clearly no ordinary guy. The private room and Nikolayovich’s attitude confirm as much.
I take his hand in mine, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my fingers. It’s like touching a live wire! Again! What is this? Heat spreads through my entire body. Thank goodness he’s still under the effects of the anesthesia. And not just because it might hurt him.
I run a few tests, and the results aren’t as bad as I feared. Most likely, his arm will function again.
Carefully, I trace along his shoulder joint, trying to ignore the damn electric pulses shooting through me. I bend his arm at the elbow. It responds, there’s muscle tone, and that’s another piece of good news for my “bear.” Speaking of which, what’s his name? While holding his arm, I turn to the chart on the bedside table.
“Mark Sokolenko.”
Nice name. I wonder who he is? Let’s think—gunshot wounds, a distinctive look, a chain that weighs a pound. Probably a gym teacher at a local school!
I smirk at my own “conclusion,” turn back to him, and nearly jump out of my skin as his massive, vein-roped free hand grabs my scrubs and pulls me closer.
“Hey, little mouse!” his hoarse, low voice echoes through the room…
I flinch in panic, but my scrubs, caught in his grip, won’t let me go.
For the first time in my life, I want to run from a patient. Because no patient has ever sent electric shocks through me before. And no one’s voice has ever made my knees buckle. He lies there like a massive boulder, pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but his grip is so tight, as if he’s falling and clinging to a lifeline.
“My name is… God, what’s my name??—Anna! My name is Anna!” I blurt out, overly cheerful, relieved I haven’t forgotten it. “Anna Vasilivna! Please address me only as such! I’m your… doctor. Rehabilitation therapist!” I’m amazed I managed to string so many words together in his presence.
“Re-ha-bi-li-ta-tion ther-a-pist…” he drawls, as if tasting the word. “Is it that bad, little mouse?”
“I’m not your little mouse!” I snap, though it’s hardly convincing. “Whether it’s bad or not, I’ll only know tomorrow after all the tests.”
“You’ll be here with me until tomorrow?” Bear says, his head dropping back onto the pillow with exhaustion. But he still doesn’t let go of my scrubs.
“That’s not part of my duties. Tomorrow, we’ll do more…” I take a shaky breath. Whew, it’s so hot in here! “Tests. And let go of my scrubs already!”
“Can’t. Not until I hear what’s wrong with me.”
“In my area of expertise, it’s likely we can… restore… functions. For everything else, you’ll need to ask your primary doctor.”
“Thanks, mouse!” He finally lets go, and I bolt out of the room, nearly knocking over an IV stand in the hallway. I glance around as if wolves are chasing me. Three deep breaths in, three out—my vision clears a bit.
What the hell! I mutter under my breath. “What’s gotten into you, Anna?”
If only I knew! I need to get home. A cold shower and a good night’s sleep. I’m starting to forget my own name!
Halfway to my tiny office, I remember I need to call the mechanic about my car. But I can’t find my phone.
Damn, damn, damn! I curse, realizing I left it on the table in room seventeen so it wouldn’t get in the way in my pocket.
Honestly, I’d rather say goodbye to that phone than go back to “Bear”! But I absolutely have to call the mechanic.
The walk back to room seventeen takes way longer than the same distance away from it. The thought of facing that intriguing patient again makes my jaw clench. It’s not that I don’t like looking at him—no, I like it too much. It’s more the weird state I’m in, the stammering instead of speaking normally, and the obvious issues with my joints, which either buckle or feel like they’re stuffed with cotton in his presence.
I open the door, hoping “Patient X” has fallen asleep.
Phew, he doesn’t react to my entrance. Lucky me?
But my luck runs out there. My phone is nowhere to be found, even though I remember exactly where…
“Looking for this, mouse?” His voice booms like thunder, and I jump back from the bedside table where I’d been frantically searching.
My tiny phone looks like a toy in Bear’s massive paw. And the screen is lit up—did he unlock it?
“Give… that back!” I lunge at him like a hawk after its prey.
“Take it.” He gives a tired smile. As I lean in for the phone, he lifts his head, and with a breath that sears my neck, he whispers, “I saw you’ve got problems. Help me get out of here fast, and you’ll forget all about them!”
I shoot out of that room for the second time like a cork from a champagne bottle. I try to muster up some anger toward him, but that breath still lingers on my neck like a gentle breeze.
What a nightmare!
***
At the mechanic’s, they “cheered me up” by saying my old clunker still isn’t fixed. I’ll have to walk home again! But it’s not too late yet, I’ll manage. It’ll give me a chance to cool off, because I’m not feeling right. It’s way too hot, my whole body feels like it’s on fire. Maybe I’ve caught some virus? I just hope I don’t pass it to Dym—he’s already got enough on his plate with school, tutors, and trying to pick up odd jobs to help me out, poor kid.
“Hey, Doc! Need an escort home?” One of the “blue crew” pops up—Kolya, nicknamed “Balloon.” I squint at his figure under the streetlight. He’s walking oddly steady and confident. Is he sober?
“No, thanks! What’s the occasion? Some kind of holiday?”
“Huh?” Balloon looks confused.
“I see you’re sober. First time I’ve seen that in all the years I’ve known you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I haven’t had a drop in two days. Decided to turn over a new leaf.”
“Wow. What inspired that?”
“Well, I got caught in the paws of one of Knyaz’s buddies. And I survived. Figured there’s gotta be a reason I’m still here on this earth.”
“Knyaz’s buddy?” Is he talking about Bear?
Knyaz is the local “authority,” a gangster with a bloody reputation. I’ve seen his victims come through the hospital. Horrific stuff. There are already legends about him—murders, drugs, turf wars. And he’s got connections high up, because the police can’t seem to touch him.
“Yeah, the guy who tossed us around like puppies. And Yurka, just so you know, used to box back in the day. He’s not an easy guy to…”
But I’m no longer listening to Kolya’s muttering.
A pack of cats seems to claw their way across my soul. Bear—a buddy of Knyaz? A gangster? I mean, I figured he wasn’t exactly in the flower-arranging business, but only the truly unhinged run with Knyaz.
So, a gangster…
You’ve gotta stay away, Anna. Not just far away, but on the other side of the equator!