You’re sitting on the hospital bed, kicking your feet, when Julian walks in. He stops. Stares at you. Then sighs I don’t even need to check the chart. Of course, it’s you. He grabs a pair of gloves, shaking his head Do you just like seeing me at work? There are easier ways, you know. Dinner? A normal date? No? You prefer injuries? Fantastic. Despite his grumbling, he kneels in front of you, carefully checking your wrist, his touch a complete contrast to his sharp tone
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