Chapter 3 physical health

Finding out the truth became a life mission. Unraveling Amy Kent, her secrets, her nuances, every detail that made her up. And who better to help me than my own brother, Benjamin? Or, who knows, my dear sister-in-law, if I was persuasive enough. Expressing my interest in Amy was inevitable, opening my heart to obtain the information I so desired. Helena's reluctance to get involved with Benjamin, because he was one of the owners of the hospital, served as a reminder of the challenges she had faced. But the need to know more about my blonde devil was uncontrollable. My brother, with his insistence on winning over his wife Helena, could be the key to obtaining information about Miss Amy Kent. My mind was spinning in circles, thoughts colliding in an incessant whirlwind, elaborating strategies and plans. It won't be easy, damn it! I muttered softly. Relaxing and going back to sleep were an almost impossible task. The damned devil dominated my thoughts, disturbing me like no other woman had ever done. Never in my entire life had I felt this way about a woman. Especially without having spent a single night with her. Amy was already turning my life upside down without even knowing it. And what was the problem with her being the daughter of a tycoon? Why was I creating so many problems over something that wasn't even a problem yet? Because I was making a fuss! I needed a strong drink to calm my thoughts and relax. I walked to the bar, pouring myself a generous shot of whiskey. The liquid went down burning my throat, providing momentary relief. I placed the glass on the sideboard and dragged myself to the bedroom, lay down on the bed, seeking the sleep that stubbornly eluded me. And I succumbed to sleep. I felt my body relax instantly, I placed the glass on the sideboard and went to my bedroom, lay down on the bed and fell asleep. The day dawned hectic, with the secretary informing me about the extensive schedule of patients waiting in the waiting room. The routine in the office promised to be intense. Visits to patients in the ward also awaited me, increasing the workload. The need for a trustworthy assistant became increasingly evident. As the supervisor of the third-year residents, I decided to closely observe the most qualified person to assist me. He would be responsible for patient visits in my absence, reporting to me and monitoring the progress of patients in the ward and in the ICU. Having an assistant would allow me to focus on new cases or future surgeries, optimizing my time and reducing stress. The search for this person became crucial. That day, however, I still didn't have this help. The doctor's visits fell on my own shoulders. And, who knows, in the middle of the rush, I could make a quick stop at the emergency room to see Amy, the blonde devil. "Holy shit," I whispered. She's probably off duty after her 24-hour shift. I thought. I wasn't so lucky, here I am. A wave of frustration overcame me. The chance of seeing her was slim, and the damn time was consuming me. With a sigh of resignation, I turned my attention back to the list of patients. The devil would have to wait. For now. - Damn it! 3 Amy Kent After 24 exhausting hours in the hospital, the break was more than deserved, by the way. The house was crying out for complete organization, Mercedes, my faithful domestic squire, was unable to come in due to an intestinal virus. I needed to tidy up the house, the clothes needed to be washed, the grocery shopping needed to be done, the list of tasks was long. The week would be spent working alone. - I grumbled. With my mind still foggy from my shift, I started to put the house in order. It was time to take care of myself. Grocery shopping and a run along the beach and, who knows, a good book or a relaxing series later. Life in Los Angeles gave me peace, the chance to leave the past behind, even if only for a few hours. The morning sun promised a warm day in Los Angeles. Since I moved here, running has become my refuge. Breathing in the fresh air, watching the sea move... Activities that connected me with the present distanced me from the painful memories that insisted on haunting me. Moving to the Californian city did me a lot of good. The wounds were still there, but little by little, they were starting to heal, slowly. I needed to move on, that was my mantra. Not that I wasn't doing it, but it required an extra, huge effort. Change my focus, avoid thoughts that tied me to the past. Otherwise, inertia would take over me, leaving me prostrate on the couch, submerged in my own pain. Allowing memories to paralyze me was out of the question. But, first of all, I needed a moment for myself. I got up from the chair on the balcony and headed to my room, after tidying up. I put on my running gear: black leggings, top and tank top, put on my running shoes, tied my long, blonde hair in a ponytail and slathered on sunscreen. I grabbed my bag and placed my sunglasses on the armchair in the corner, ready to face the day, with its challenges and its little joys. Life was a gift, and I was willing to make the most of it. In my white Audi Q3 SUV, I drove through the busy city streets, heading to the first item on my list: the supermarket. The music playing on the radio was a backdrop for my restless mind, thoughts swirling around the night shift and the race that awaited me. ❤ With my heart pounding and my mind calm, the morning sun bathed my face, while the sea stretched out before me, infinite and beautiful. On heavier days, when the emotional burden was too much, running was the only force that kept me from succumbing. It was a new day, a new chance to start over. After the arduous journey in the hospital, running along the shore was an almost religious ritual. Almost forty minutes of rapid breathing, sweat dripping down my body, the constant rhythm helping me exorcise the ghosts of the past and the hardships of the present. Medicine was my passion, my life choice. Specializing in trauma surgery put me on the line between life and death every day, challenging and rewarding. The emergency room could be a difficult place, with surreal cases that defied logic, irreparable losses, adrenaline coursing through my veins; all of this was part of my routine. Running was my refuge, my escape valve, a moment to relax, clear my head and take care of my mental and physical health, along with my therapy. I also enjoyed going out with my hospital colleagues to drink or dance. Letting loose on the dance floor was like washing my soul, a ritual that allowed me to forget everything for a few hours. And, of course, I couldn't deny the pleasure of good sweaty sex. Dr. Tyler Clark's advances became increasingly difficult to resist. Ever since I started working at the hospital, almost a year ago. He courted me, showed interest, flirted incessantly. His reputation as a player was known by everyone, of collecting women in his bed without ever repeating. And the idea of ​​being just another one in his long list didn't appeal to me, it made me apprehensive. But there was something about him that attracted me. His intensity, his intelligence, his humor were irresistible. It was as if an invisible force was pulling me towards him, despite all my reservations. I avoided him, tried to stay focused on work, but his piercing blue eyes followed me everywhere. A dilemma that consumed me: give in to temptation and indulge in a risky night, or keep my distance and