Yours: A Standalone Contemporary Romance by Jasinda Wilder Read Free Book Online Page B

when you’re cracking up.”  
    “You’re a doctor?”  
    He nods. Watches me take another hit, and hack again. “A surgeon with MSF.”  
    “MSF?” It sounds like something I should know.  
    “ Médecins Sans Frontières ,” he clarifies, in a flawless French accent. “Doctors Without Borders.”  
    “I’ve heard of it for sure, but I don’t know much about it.”  
    “Non-profit, international humanitarian aid. We put together teams of medical personnel from all over the world, and we go into nasty situations, provide medical treatment. Civil wars, natural disasters, disease outbreaks.”
    “Where have you been?”  
    His eyes reflect the fact that he’s seen hell. “South Sudan, Uganda, Cambodia, the quake in Haiti. I was stationed in Côte d ’ Ivoire for a couple of years.” He points at my still-shaking hands. “I get those, too. The shakes, after it ’ s all over.”  
    “Lost a patient.” It ’ s all I can get out.
    He nods, squinting as the sun peeks out from behind a cloud to shine in our faces. It ’ s L.A. hot. “Never gets easier. Harder, if anything.”
    “He was twelve. Shot four times. Just…bled out.”  
    “And you promised him you ’ d save him.” I can only nod, and he manages to be a little closer to me without moving, somehow. Nudges me with his shoulder. “Never stop making that promise. They need the lie, and so do you. We have to lie to ourselves, just so we ’ ll keep trying even when it ’ s hopeless. We lie, and work so that maybe it won ’ t be a lie after all.”  
    “I hate that lie.”  
    “Me too.” He extends his hand to me. “I ’ m Oliver James.”
    I take his hand. Don ’ t really shake, just hold it. Like a needy dumbass. “Niall Mackenzie.”
    A silence, then. Comfortable. I don ’ t really smoke the cigarette, just hold it. Take a puff now and again, but the act is soothing. Comforting. The pretense is…necessary. I see what he means.  
    Oliver stands up after a few minutes. “Got to go back inside, check on my dad.”
    I stand up too. “Is he a patient?”  
    A nod. “Yeah. Bypass. Second one. Stubborn old goat won ’ t quit the Big Macs, y ’ know?”  
    “Thank you, Oliver.”  
    He grins, and god, is that smile gorgeous. McDreamy, even.  
    He turns serious, then. “You make a difference. Every patient, save ’ em or lose ’ em, you make a difference.”
    That doesn ’ t help my still-roiling emotions. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
    He waves, an easy toss of his hand. Only makes it a few steps before he turns back around. “I don ’ t suppose you speak French, do you?”
    I frown. “Um, actually, I do. Not perfectly, but pretty well. Took it all through middle school, high school, and college. My roommate in nursing school was from Quebec, so I ’ m conversational to a certain degree.”
    “My MSF team, we ’ re short-staffed and shipping out for the Central African Republic in a couple months. We desperately need French-speaking nurses trained in emergency triage.” He strides over to me, hands me a card, and scribbles a phone number on the back. “Call this number tomorrow morning if you’re interested, ask for Dominique. I ’ ll put in a word for you tonight.”  
    I consider his offer. “Is the work like that?” I gesture at the hospital.
    He shakes his head. “Worse. You ’ re there when the guns are going off. When the mines are exploding. When the endemic is sweeping like wildfire through entire towns. What ’ s going in Africa right now? It ’ s gonna be gnarly. But if you can do that—” he jerks his head at the ER entrance, “—you can do it. Plus, I ’ ll be there and we ’ ll be on the same team. I ’ ll always be right beside you, if you ship out with us.”  
    He doesn ’ t give me a chance to respond, he simply strides away. Not quite a swagger, but close. A sexy walk, a man who is utterly self-confident, but not arrogant.  
    I tuck his card into the back pocket of my