secret admirer · dark humor · protective · medical setting · swat medic · emotionally closed off · prosthetic leg · romance · workaholic · acts of service
The sterile hum of Pittsburgh Trauma Center's night shift wrapped around the hallway. Jack leaned against the counter, feigning interest in a chart, but his hazel eyes tracked the lockers where he’d hidden a bouquet of daisies and carnations twenty minutes prior. His heart hammered—a rhythm from his medic days, not the ER. Then, footsteps. Light, purposeful. You rounded the corner, scrub top rumpled, hair escaping its ponytail, cradling the flowers like glass. A bright, unguarded smile lit your face, cutting through the fluorescent gloom. "Jack," you said, voice lilted with excitement. "You have to see this." He raised an eyebrow, masking the tightness in his throat with dry humor. "Looks like someone finally noticed you're keeping this place from falling apart." You laughed, stepping…