The next afternoon when I came to work, Ziggy had already been taken downstairs for his transfusion. I had been through a rollercoaster of emotions in the past few days, which was very inconvenient timing considering I was due for my period. Fighting with Rebecca fueled my anxiety, but I knew what she said only got under my skin because it was true. Talking to him last night made a lot of things clearer for me. It made me realize I hadn't sorted through a lot of the grief I still had from that time. I wished I had been able to figure that out without crying on him last night, but it was becoming obvious that I didn't have a lot of self-control when it came to him.

Tiffany leaned onto the desk and zipped up and package of samples with a groan. She had suffered a knee injury from a new workout regimen, or so I overheard from her conversation with the other nurses. "I can take those to the lab," I offered. "I'm still waiting on some blood panels."

"If you don't mind," she smiled. "It will save me some limping."

"Yeah, no problem. Put that foot up."

Her smile widened. "Thank you, Sabine."

I took the bag from her with a grin. I was more than willing to help her out, but I had ulterior motives.

I jogged down the stairs to the basement and went to hematology. I went down the hall to the lab and handed over the samples, thanking the technician when I did. Just around the corner were the transfusion rooms. While I was more than allowed to be with my patient wherever he was, but there were other patients upstairs that required more assistance than having someone sit next to them while they worried about needles.

My presence at the desk made the attendant look up. "Can you tell me which room Mr. Ziegler is in?"

"Sure. Uh," she looked at her screen. "He should be in G."

"Thanks."

I walked down to the room and peeked inside. Ziggy was already hooked up, and they have left him alone. It seemed like he was always alone if he wasn't with me. Or maybe it was the other way around.

He sat in the wide-armed recliner wearing a black crocheted beanie that he pulled down to the top of his thick-framed glasses. He flipped through a Vogue magazine, probably wishing he was working rather than sitting here. He probably wished he was doing anything other than sitting here. He looked over the lines in his arm and cringed. It wasn't right for me to keep standing here staring at him. "Hey," I said quietly.

He looked up. "Hey." His eyes traced over me. A smile spread across his face. "Look who it is," he said, holding up his magazine. I pulled the stool over and lean onto the wide arm of his chair. On the page was a familiar mascara ad.

"Well, look at you, Mr. Big Shot," I mustered all of my enthusiasm. "Vogue again?"

"My legacy shall be vanity," he joked darkly, but I didn't have the energy to scold him. He looked at me and frowned. "You look tired."

"I am."

"What's going on in your life? Outside of babysitting me, that is." He didn't seem too concerned with discussing last night. I gave into the diversion.

"Not a lot. It's all wedding bullshit right now."

"Is Rebecca still being a control freak?" How did he know that? I probably talked too much about her. As if I had anyone else in my life to discuss with Ziggy.

"Yes. She's always a bit of a dictator when it comes to her stupid plans. Everything has to be on her schedule to her level of perfection—which is impossible, by the way. And heaven forbid she ever thanks me when I come close." An angry sigh left me in a huff. "Sorry, I don't mean to complain to you about my petty bullshit."

"Don't stop. I like the distraction."

I smile at him happily, as my anger dissipates. "I'm just pissed at her right now. We'll get over it like we always do but I just want to hate her for a few days."

"That sounds healthy."

I smirked. "You look cute in your little hat." I reached forward and tugged the front of it down. He laughed. "You like your new friends, don't you?"

"Maybe I like those old ladies a little," he said like poetry. He stroked his hand over my arm. "They have nothing on you though." I enjoyed his touch too much. I tried to distract myself, but all I could think about was yesterday.

I propped my elbow onto the arm of the chair and leaned my head onto my balled fist. "I'm sorry about last night."

He gave me a curious look. "Why? I'm glad you told me everything you did. And I'm glad we had a chance to talk and get on the same page."

"I feel like I keep pulling you close just to have to push you away again."

"You do. But isn't that the point? The carrot on the string trick doesn't work if I can catch it right?"

I allowed myself to laugh at his terrible joke. He smirked and went back to his magazine.

"I guess it goes without saying that it shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, sure," he said nonchalantly, still flipping through the pages.

I pushed the magazine closed with my free hand, forcing him to look at me. "What do you mean, 'sure?'"

"How does that saying go . . . ?" He feigned confusion. "Kiss me once, shame on you, kiss me twice . . . shame on me?" He was making fun of me again.

"Ziggy," I scolded.

"Kiss me three times, you're playing with yourself? I think I fucked it up."

I groaned in annoyance. He laughed at my expense. "Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling good enough to give me shit again," I patted his arm lightly with the back of my hand.

When I tried to bring it back, my hand bumped against his. He grabbed it. I stared into his eyes as he laced his fingers between mine. "Seriously, Sabine. You don't have to apologize to me. We've both been through some shit in our lives. Especially recently." I nodded in agreement but said nothing. My attention went to fighting off the emotions that tried to resurface. "I will always appreciate your company, no matter how much kissing is involved. Though, for the record," he stared at me with a grin, running his thumb against mine, "I'd prefer as much kissing as possible."

He gave me the same sexy smile he gave me the first time we met. My breath grew shallow.

I dropped my hand from my cheek and lifted my head. He leaned forward slightly and I do the same. We played a silent game of chicken to see who would close the last bit of distance. While I didn't want to lose, my skin ached for just a bit of comfort. I leaned in the last inch and brushed my lips gently over his, kissing him quickly before pulling away. He leans closer and touches his tongue against mine briefly before kissing my lips softly again. "Mr. Ziegler, erm . . ." a voice said from the doorway.

We both turned to find Dr. Mathews. I let go of Ziggy's hand and tried to hide the terror from my face. I stared down disappointedly when he started to explain the new schedule to Ziggy.

I nearly blacked out from sheer fear during the first part of the conversation. I was in such deep shit. I forced myself back into reality, knowing there was no way to escape it. "Margins are looking very good, but just a bit more would give us some additional comfort. We have two treatments left after that. I think we can complete them in quick succession before attempting surgery."

"Sounds good."

"We will see you soon." He started to leave but turned on his heels before he made it to the hall. "Nurse Brennan. A word?"

My heart dropped. "Of course."

I followed him and out and down the hall a short way, my heart beating rapidly the entire way. "I have always defended your ability to connect with patients," he said, "but I am not sure if I have an explanation for what I just walked in on."

"I know. What you saw was completely inappropriate."

He looked at me disappointedly. "Can I not trust you to be around patients that require constant contact?"

"No, of course not! I have never come close to being inappropriate with a patient before, and in any other case, this would never have happened. It's just . . ." I tried to explain. I could barely stand to look him in the eye. "It's just him."

"I cannot in good conscience ask you to be his main caretaker now that I know your relationship has gone to an inappropriate level."

"No, please, Dr. Mathews," I begged him.

"But," he said with added emphasis. "I cannot keep him from requesting you either." I looked at him and my heart beat nervously. "Can I trust you to be professional enough to get him through these next weeks?"

"Yes. Of course."

He nodded slowly, assessing me with a discerning glower. "I will forget what I saw, but if it happens again . . . there will be significant and warranted punishment."

I nodded. "I understand completely."

He looked me over once more. "Don't let it happen again, Nurse Brennan," he warned me.