Wake for Me (Life or Death Series) by Isobel Irons

sure it wouldn’t be better if….”
    The attending picked up a sheaf of papers on his desk and gestured to the door.
    “You can leave my office,” he said again, using the exact same inflection as he had the first time.
    “Yes sir,” Sam said, caving. Again.
    Feeling equal parts guilty and spineless, he left the office and continued to the seventh floor.
    All he could think about was how he’d felt the day before: how he’d almost throat punched Jeff the tech, trying to get to Viola’s side. The way his heart had stopped when hers had, and he’d actually felt a part of him dying along with her. None of those feelings made any sense to him, but that didn’t make them any easier to ignore. Or any less inappropriate, for someone who was acting as her physician. And yet, Dr. Chakrabarti didn’t seem to think it was a problem. At least, not enough to take him off the case.
    But that wasn’t what was really bothering him, Sam realized. He reached for Viola’s chart, fighting off another wave of guilt. The truth was, he hadn’t asked to be taken off the case so he could spend less time around Viola. It was so he could spend more time with her. So he wouldn’t have to pretend that his interest in her—however deep it went—was purely professional.
    Now, though, Sam was shackled by the Hippocratic Oath. Even if Viola did end up feeling the same way, there could be no hint of anything romantic between them. And that bothered him way, way more than it should.
    But not as much as the thought of her hating him, when she finally found out the truth.
    When Sam turned toward Viola’s room, he almost trampled a guy with spiked brown hair and guy-liner.
    “Excuse me,” Sam said, trying to step around him. But the guy raised a leather-bracelet banded, tattoo-covered arm to stop him in his tracks.
    “Sorry,” he said. “Are you Dr. Philips?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    “Oh, brilliant.” The guy had a British accent, or something like it. “They said you were one of the doctors working on Viola Bellerose’s case, and they said I should talk to you if I had any questions.”
    Sam raised his eyebrows at the mention of Viola’s name. “They?”
    “Yeah,” the guy turned toward the nurse’s station and waved. Sam looked over his shoulder, just in time to see two of the younger ICU nurses—Candace and Whitney—waving back, as they blushed and leered, respectively.
    “I’m sorry,” Sam said, feeling out of the loop. “Who are you?”
    “Oh,” the guy smiled, showing off a set of surprisingly white teeth, considering how grubby the rest of him looked. He held out a hand, and Sam noticed for the first time that his fingernails were painted black. “I’m Aiden Faux. You know, ‘Hat Trick’…‘The Space Between Us?’…‘Wake for Me’?”
    The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it. Reluctantly, he took the offered hand and shook it. “And you have questions about my patient, because…?”
    “Oh,” Aiden laughed, breaking the handshake to run a hand through his overly-gelled hair. “Sorry, I just assumed you would have read the magazines and what. I’m her boyfriend.”
    What the —? Sam instantly felt his hackles go up. How stupid. Of course Viola already had a boyfriend. How could she not? A better question was, where the hell had her boyfriend been for the past two weeks?
    He didn’t even want to think about what that meant for the kiss, which in retrospect was quickly approaching imaginary status.
    Instead of asking what would’ve been a seriously personal—and unprofessional—question, Sam cleared his throat and put on his best ‘I’m a doctor and that means I am more important than you’ face. It was similar to his poker face, in that it probably fooled no one.
    “I apologize, Mr. ….”
    “Faux. F-A-U-X.”
    “Right.” Sam smiled, coldly. “But I can’t give out any details about a patient’s status, to anyone who isn’t a family member.”
    “Oh, that’s