Christine’s POV
Christine’s POV
The fluorescent lights of West View General sting my eyes after the dim hush of the storage room. The hospital buzzes around me, monitors beeping, pages crackling over the intercom, nurses moving briskly, but all of it feels too loud, almost intrusive. I keep my head high, spine straight, as if the very act of walking steadily can disguise the heat still running through me.
Inside, though, my body is still alive with the fire Jonathan left there. My skin flushes as though every nerve remembers him. My lips are tender from his kisses, my heart beating an unsteady rhythm that refuses to calm, even as I force myself back into the rhythm of work. Lives depend on me, on both of us, and I cannot let what just happened spill into the open. We stole those moments
