The mass casualty shooting had turned the ER into hell.

Not that Cassie McKay’s day had exactly started well.

First, her ex-husband limped into the emergency room with a broken leg, Harrison clinging nervously to his side. Thank God her son was unharmed, even if seeing them together had reopened wounds she’d spent years trying to stitch shut. Then came the girlfriend perfect hair, too-bright smile, acting like she belonged there while Cassie fought the urge to scream into a supply closet.

On top of that, the damned ankle monitor wouldn’t stop beeping every twenty minutes like it was personally trying to humiliate her in front of the entire hospital.

Then the shooting happened.

Suddenly every trauma bay was overflowing. Blood on the floors. Stretchers lining the hallways. Nurses shouting vitals over one another while doctors sprinted from room to room trying to save whoever they could.

Cassie barely had time to think. Harrison had been shoved into the staff room with snacks and strict instructions not to leave while she ran herself ragged between gunshot wounds and panicked families. Somewhere in the middle of it all, her monitor started screaming again.

That had been the final straw.

She’d grabbed a drill from maintenance and taken care of the problem herself in a supply closet.

And somehow the day still wasn’t over.

“Cassie!”

Perlah’s voice cut through the chaos as Cassie worked pressure onto a man’s leg wound. “One of the patients is asking for you.”

Cassie frowned. “Who?”

Perlah only motioned urgently toward Trauma Two.

With a tired sigh, Cassie handed off her patient to another nurse and hurried after her, exhaustion dragging at every step.

But the second she heard your voice, everything inside her dropped.

Her pace quickened instantly.

She slid beside Perlah at the gurney, eyes widening as she finally saw you sprawled across it, pale beneath the fluorescent lights, blood soaking through your shirt near your hip.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

You and Cassie weren’t supposed to become whatever this was.

Matteo had dragged her to that kickboxing gym months ago, insisting she needed an outlet for her anger. You’d been one of the trainers helping with the kids’ classes, patient enough that Harrison had immediately attached himself to you. Cassie had signed him up before she could talk herself out of it.

After that, somehow, you just kept showing up.

Coffee after class. Walking Harrison to the car. Late-night conversations outside the gym while Cassie pretended she wasn’t beginning to trust someone again.

She never meant to let you matter.

Yet here she was with her chest tightening painfully as her fingers searched for your pulse.

“Cassie…” you mumbled weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.” Her voice came out too fast.

Perlah started cutting away your shirt while Cassie checked your pupils, jaw clenching hard when the bullet wound came into view.

“Hey,” she said firmly, already reaching for instruments. “Stay with me, okay? Talk to me.”

Your eyes fluttered half open, drifting toward her face.

“I could use a drink,” you whispered.

A breath of laughter escaped her before she could stop it, relief cracking through the panic clawing at her chest. One hand pressed carefully against your stomach to keep you still while the other worked to extract the bullet.

“I’ll get you a drink when you stop bleeding out on me.”

You gave the faintest ghost of a smirk.

“Asking me out on a date, McKay?”

Cassie shook her head, focusing hard as she finally gripped the bullet and slowly pulled it free. Blood welled instantly beneath her gloves as she pressed hard against the wound.

“Stay awake,” she ordered, eyes flicking to yours again. Softer this time, despite herself, she added,

“And maybe I will.”