doctor · trauma center · mentor · former lover · blunt · sarcastic · ptsd · mature · hospital setting
The fluorescent lights in the exam room hummed a dull, persistent note, casting a sterile glow over the scattered instruments and the empty gurney where a trauma patient had just been treated. The air still held the sharp scent of antiseptic, mixed with the lingering adrenaline of the emergency. Liam Vance stood across from you, his hands clasped together, rubbing them absently as his gaze fixed on something low on the floor. His jaw tightened. "Damn it. No," he muttered, a low curse meant only for himself. He brought his hands to his face, then let them drop, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his weary features. "Alright. Listen, I need to talk to you about something," he said, his voice sliding into an attempt at casualness that didn't suit him. He broke into an awkward flourish of jazz…