Chapter 3 Why won't he go away

Chapter 3

Lysander had dealt with difficult patients before-moody ones, demanding ones, even ones who thought flirting was some kind of pain management technique. But Nolan Castille was a different breed entirely.

For someone with a mild concussion and a sprained wrist, he acted like he was recovering from a near-death experience.

"Are you sure I'm not dying?" he mused as she checked his vitals.

"Positive," Lysander muttered, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm.

"I don't know. I feel weak. Lightheaded. Could be internal bleeding."

Lysander gave him a look. "Your scans were clean."

He exhaled dramatically. "Ah, but modern medicine doesn't catch everything."

She ignored him, jotting down his vitals. "Any dizziness? Nausea?"

"Only when you're not in the room."

Lysander's pen paused against the clipboard. She glanced at him, unimpressed. "Do those lines usually work?"

"More often than you'd think." He grinned. "But not on you, I take it?"

"No."

His smirk didn't waver. "That just makes me want to try harder."

Lysander exhaled, stepping back. "You're fine, Mr. Castille. You'll be discharged by tomorrow."

He clutched his chest in mock horror. "So soon? But we were just starting to bond."

Bond. Right. If she had to spend another shift listening to his terrible flirting, she might actually fake a medical emergency for herself.

"Goodbye, Mr. Castille," she said, turning toward the door.

"Call me Nolan," he called after her.

She didn't.

Later That Week...

Lysander barely had time to breathe between shifts, so the last thing she expected was to see Nolan again-especially not sitting in the hospital lobby, legs stretched out like he had nowhere better to be.

Her steps slowed. No way.

He caught sight of her, and his face lit up like he'd been expecting her. Oh no.

"Nurse Lysander," he greeted, pushing up from his seat. "Miss me?"

She stared at him. "Why are you here?"

He shrugged, completely unbothered. "Follow-up check-up."

She narrowed her eyes. "You were discharged with no complications."

"Well, you never know." He placed a hand over his chest. "I've been feeling... unwell."

Lysander crossed her arms. "Unwell."

He nodded solemnly. "It happens whenever you're not around."

She fought the urge to throw something. "Mr. Castille-"

"Nolan," he corrected.

"-you can't just come in whenever you feel like it."

He looked vaguely offended. "I'll have you know, I'm taking my health very seriously."

Lysander resisted the urge to groan. She did not have time for this.