A Hospital Stay [Part 8]

The next week was odd.

Every time the door opened, I was sure I'd see Natalie, or if not her, maybe Mia or Kate. I'd become accustomed to their periodic visits.

But evidently post-surgery wound care was handled by a different nurse. So for the next five days, I got to know Donna. Donna was an older, severe-looking woman who had to be at least sixty and had a cough that made it sound like she was probably a lifelong smoker. Donna did not make small talk with me -- or, I suspected, with anybody else.

Mia poked her head in a few times, looking tired. She was almost at the end of her rotation and the hours had really ramped up. She didn't have time to linger.

I got a text from my boss with a "get well soon" video compilation of well-wishes from everyone at the bar. It included Kate -- who winked at the camera as she finished talking. But she didn't stop by in person.

As a result, I had nearly a week alone with my thoughts.

I stared at the ceiling, the same ceiling I'd been looking up at for what felt like eternity, as I laid back in my hospital bed, my mind retreading the same ground for the thousandth time.

Kate. Mia and Denise. The encounters post-surgery replayed themselves over and over in my mind. I tried to figure out the pattern, if there was one.

My triggers, if I had them. Why had I lasted for Mia?

Some difference in the way Kate had been talking?

Something about having Denise watching, having an audience, that helped me last? Maybe I was somehow more confident with her around?

Was it as simple as the fact that Kate had shown up after Mia had edged me for the ultrasound, so I hadn't lasted as long? The surgery had just fucking worked?

I didn't know. I wasn't even sure whatever happened with Natalie would give me any answers.

Even worse -- I realized that it wasn't my stamina that had me stressed out the most.

I'd been stabbed. A bunch of times. I'd nearly died. I evidently had nerve damage they'd tried to surgically repair. It was, maybe, giving me premature ejaculation. Possibly premature ejaculation that would never resolve itself, that I might have to live with for the rest of my life.

And yet, in spite of all of that, I was spending as much time thinking about Natalie as about anything else.

Not just how the encounters with her had felt, though they'd been incredible. When she'd first showed up and jacked me off in no time. Our last encounter, her tits wrapped around my cock, the triumphant, almost gloating look in her eye as I'd cum and she'd made me admit I couldn't handle her anymore.

She'd seemed almost disappointed that she'd won.

All of that made me feel a strange mix of arousal, embarrassment, and frustration.

...And underneath that, an odd combination of guilt and annoyance. Natalie was clearly harboring some kind of baggage from our college days. I was sure she was upset about how I had treated her, but she refused to talk about it, to clear the air. And I knew that probably the next time I saw her, she still wouldn't want to clear the air.

That was what I was having trouble getting past. The combination of sexual frustration, the easy confidence she'd developed, and her complete unwillingness to just have the argument or conversation or whatever would let us both move on.

Even now, after everything with Mia and Kate and Denise, with whatever physical issue I might still have...I was mostly concerned about how all of that might impact things with Natalie.

So when Donna finally, in her perfunctory way, told me that it was the last time I'd be seeing her and the normal wound care team would be taking back over, I was elated.

The only thing now to do was to wait for Natalie. It might not prove anything conclusively, although I knew if I could last for her, it would be a good sign that the surgery had fixed the problem.

But even if I couldn't, I was ready to reach some kind of conclusion to...whatever this was. The weird turmoil and anxiety that had defined my hospital stay, the sense of something between us, unresolved. I liked Mia, and Kate, and Denise, but the stay had begun -- and it would end -- with figuring shit out with Natalie.

The next time I saw her, one way or another, I was going to figure this out.

I would make sure of it.

---

When Natalie finally showed up, she didn’t even knock. The only warning was the brief squeak of her sneakers on the floor, the door opening, and there she was. Same lilac scrubs, clinging to full curves. Blonde hair up in a messy bun.

“Morning, James. Long time no see,” she said. Her voice had the kind of neutral, professional cheerfulness I'd come to expect from the nursing staff. I watched her green eyes as she picked up and scanned my chart.

I felt a surge of annoyance -- I was done with playing this game. But I tried to match her tone. For now.

“Morning, Natalie.”

"Well, Donna's meticulous as usual, and everything looks normal...how's the pain today, on a scale of one to ten?" Her voice was amused, now.

I couldn't do it, I decided. The pretense, the banter. I could do it with Denise, but not with her.

I paused for a long moment. “Natalie,” I said, finally, “Can we talk?”

She didn’t even look up, though there was amusement in her voice when she spoke. "Of course. Is there something you need to tell me about your wounds?”

“No,” I said, forcing myself to keep my voice steady. “About... us.”

She froze, and I saw her fingers tighten on the edge of the clipboard. She looked up at me, expression carefully blank.

“There is no ‘us,’ James,” she said, flat.

“I need to understand what’s going on with you.”

She rolled her eyes, snapping the chart shut. “You need, huh?"

“Yeah,” I said. “You're obviously feeling...something.”

She glared at me. “You don’t know anything about my feelings.”

I sighed. “I know I don't. That's my point.”

She hesitated, looking away. For a moment, I saw something crack in her composure, just like it had on her last visit. A flicker of pain, vulnerability, hurt. But then it was gone again.

“Too bad. What you need isn't my problem,” she said, with finality.

I felt frustration boiling up inside me. I wanted to reach out, touch her, shake her, fuck her—anything to do away with the games, anything to get a real, honest, transparent emotion out of her. Something I could understand, grapple with, resolve.

“Fine,” I said, after a moment. I'd play it her way. “How about another deal, then.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms underneath her breasts. “What kind of deal?”

“A bet,” I said, matching her stare. “Like last time. This time, we have sex. If you cum first, you talk. You tell me what’s really going on with you. With us. No more games.”

She raised an eyebrow, her mouth twitching into a wry, almost-smile. “If I cum first, huh? And if you cum first?”

I shrugged, pushing aside the performance anxiety the question prompted. “Then you get to keep your secrets. And I’ll leave it alone. Once and for all.”

She considered this, lips pursed, eyes flicking up and down my body. I knew she was thinking about how quickly she’d gotten me off last time, how helplessly I'd cum for her.

Finally, she nodded, smug. “Sure. An easy bet to take to finally put this to rest.”

My cock surged at the challenge, but underneath the bravado, I was worried. However it had gone with Mia, I still had no confidence in my stamina.

But I needed to get to the bottom of this, and I couldn't think of anything else that would get her to talk.

Natalie was already moving smoothly about the room. She shut the door. She closed the blinds on the small window. Then she turned back to me. There was something in the set of her jaw, the expression on her face -- determined and confident -- that made my heart start pounding.

She'd made me lose control so quickly twice already. And she knew it.

I started to pull myself up to a sitting position, but she was already at my side, her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back into the mattress.

“Nope,” she said, her voice low. “You're not tweaking something on my watch just because you've got something to prove. I'm on top.”

I still wasn't strong enough to resist her anyway, so I obeyed. She straddled me, knees bracketing my thighs. As I stared, she reached down, pulling her her shirt over her head in one smooth motion to reveal a black lace bra that barely contained her full breasts. My eyes followed the trail of freckles down into the smooth valley of her cleavage.

In college, she'd always been a little shy under my gaze, a little submissive. Now, she watched me watching her, smirk deepening. “Like what you see?”

“You know I always have," I said, my voice hoarse, anticipating what was to come.

She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Her nipples were tight and hard. Her tits looked heavy and full. Everything was just begging to be squeezed, touched.

I reached up, unable to help myself, but she caught my wrists, pushing them down to the bed.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “I mean, you don't want to get too excited, right? Your chart indicates that the surgery results were inconclusive.”

I swallowed and blushed at the mockery in her voice.

The worst part was that she was right. I could feel my cock, throbbing already in the hospital gown.

She ground her hips down against me, the heat of her pussy making me twitch. She leaned forward, her lips inches from my ear.

“Remember the rules,” she said, her voice a low purr. “If you cum first, I win, and this is the last time we talk about this. It'll mean you can't handle me, so there won't be any reason to try again."

She paused, then continued, dismissively. "...And if I cum first, you get your answers.”

I nodded, trying to keep my breathing steady.

She released my wrists, sitting back on her heels, reaching down to pull off her scrub pants and panties, first off one leg, then the other. She was gloriously naked now, her skin flushed, eyes blazing with anticipation.

I yanked the gown up and out of the way, baring my cock, which was rock hard and straining up at full attention. She stared at it for a moment.

“God, you really are big,” she murmured.

She reached down, guiding the head of my cock to her entrance, rubbing it up and down her slick folds. I was surprised at how wet she was.

And then the sensations overwhelmed further thinking about it. I groaned, barely able to keep from bucking my hips up into her.

She teased me for a moment longer, then, slowly, she began to sink down onto me, inch by inch, her pussy stretching to accommodate my girth.

In college, when I'd taken her virginity, she'd been whimpering as I slowly worked inside her, begging me to go slow. I had, I recalled.

Now -- for all that she still felt incredible, was still moving slowly -- she lowered herself onto me smoothly.

The sensation was electric—hot, tight, wet, and overwhelming.

I gripped the sheets, suddenly in a very real fight for control. Oh, god.

She moaned as she took me deeper, her hands braced on my chest, her nails digging into my skin.

I grunted, struggling with myself. It was so fucking good. Too good. I could feel the orgasm already building. Days of anticipation, of thinking about exactly this, had built this up in my head. I'd known she would feel incredible, and I'd been right.

She began to rock her hips, rising and falling on my cock, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Her motions were smooth, practiced -- riding me with a poised sensuality that Natalie in college never would've.

The sight, the sensation—the way her pussy gripped me, the heat of her, the look in her eyes—was too much. I was holding on for dear life, just trying to maintain some semblance of control.

Then she spoke.

“Fuck, James,” she gasped. “You feel even bigger than I remember.”

The words went straight to my cock. I tried to think of anything else, besides the throaty arousal in her voice. The silky feel her of all around me. The sight of her tits, bouncing.

But it was hopeless. I felt myself about to tip over the edge, cresting, slowly but inexorably, towards an overwhelming orgasm.

And then our eyes met. And Natalie smiled, a victorious, knowing grin.

She knew.

“Already?” she taunted. “God, James, it's only been like ten seconds. If you cum, that's it.”

She didn't need to remind me of the stakes. I clenched my jaw, desperate to hold on, but it was a losing battle.

She leaned forward and arched her back; I felt the smooth skin of her breasts against my face, their soft weight pressing into me. “Go ahead, then. You can't stop it. I want to feel that big dick cum for me.”

Natalie from college wouldn't have said anything like that, ever. And hearing those words, with her atop me, big tits in my face -- well, there wasn't any way to stop what happened next.

With a strangled moan, I exploded inside her, my cock pulsing, hips bucking up off the bed. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me. My vision went white at the edges.

Natalie ground into me as I came, impaled on my cock, her eyes locked on mine.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of my harsh breathing, the slick sounds of my orgasm.

Then we both turned at the sound of a soft gasp from the doorway.

Mia.

She stood there, wide-eyed, her face a study in shock and something else—envy, maybe, or awe.

I didn't know how long she'd been there. I hadn't heard the door open.

But it wasn't like it needed to have been a very long time for her to have seen everything. I felt my face redden in embarrassment.

Natalie, only the other hand, didn’t even flinch; maybe she'd heard her come in, or maybe she didn't care. Either way, she smiled, turning her head to look at Mia over her shoulder.

“Enjoy the show?” she asked, her voice condescending. "Sorry it was over so quick, but that's how James is, for me. He just can't last."

Mia didn’t answer. She just stared, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming fast.

Natalie looked back at me, smug. For a moment -- just a moment -- I saw a glimpse of that same disappointment -- or regret, maybe -- in her eyes that I’d seen after our last encounter. She pulled off me, climbing off the bed, grabbing her clothes.

“Well,” she said, voice assured. “Looks like you lose, James.”

A frantic, embarrassed determination set in. I couldn’t let it end like this. Not again.

“Wait,” I said, struggling to sit up. “Best two out of three.”

She paused, her back to me. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then she turned around, eyes narrowed again.

“Seriously?” she said, her tone incredulous. "You've already had two chances at this kind of bet. Neither have gone well for you."

I nodded. “Yeah. But I’m not done. Not yet. And besides...” I tried to put some sly confidence into my voice -- confidence that I admittedly wasn't entirely feeling, after how that had gone. "You did say you'd forgotten how big I was. It must've felt at least a little good."

She considered this. She glanced at my cock, which -- to my credit -- was still rock hard. Then she shrugged, a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Fine,” she said. “You want to be thoroughly embarrassed? I'll thoroughly embarrass you. But if you lose again, you have to drop it. This is it. No more questions. No more feelings bullshit. I'm going to finally do what I should've done ages ago, and get another nurse assigned to your room while you're here. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” I said. I was still coming down from the orgasm, and felt oddly giddy, lightheaded.

Mia turned to go. Natalie glanced at her and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please, Mia. Don't pretend to be demure now,” she said. “You're already watching. Might as well watch him finish. Again. Maybe you’ll learn something. Either way, you can help make sure that this is the end of me and James talking about this.”

Mia hesitated, but then moved further into the room, perching silently on one of the visitor chairs, eyes wide, her cheeks red.

Natalie turned back to me.

She climbed back onto the bed, straddling me once more...and then shifted, a sly smile on her face. "Maybe we'll switch it up," she murmured. She twisted around, reversing the position, presenting me with the smooth lines of her back, the round swell of her ass above my cock.

Then she reached down, guiding me back inside her, sinking down again with a satisfied sigh.

Getting the first orgasm out of my system at least meant I was clearheaded for the moment. This time, I had the wherewithal to take charge. I wasn't sure it would help me last any longer, but if this was the final time we were going to do this, I was going to make sure it was on my terms.

I grabbed her hips, holding her still, refusing to let her set the pace. It was a struggle -- I still wasn't back to my usual strength, not by a longshot -- but I managed.

And then I thrust up into her, slow and deep, trying to focus on her pleasure, not mine.

I thought of the things she used to love in college, her little reactions.

The way she’d shiver, how I'd hear her breath catch when I whispered filthy things in her ear.

The way she’d shudder when I bit her neck.

How she pushed her tits into my hands when I touched them. How she reacted when I pulled her hair, stroked her clit.

So I did all of it.

I pulled her back against my chest. Admittedly, the stinging pain as she pressed against my stitched-up wounds was distracting -- but I welcomed that. I tried to use it to keep me focused, sharp.

I put my mouth at her ear. “You’re so fucking tight, Natalie.”

“Y-yeah?” She gasped the word out as I thrust up into her. I could tell she was trying to hold back, to resist. To keep control of herself.

"Yeah," I said the word firmly, and reached up, pulling her hair, forcing her to arch her back. I moved my mouth to her exposed throat. I bit down, just hard enough to leave a mark.

She moaned, grinding down on me. I felt a rush of wetness around my cock.

I squeezed her tits, rolling her nipples between my fingers, pinching and pulling until she was panting, trembling above me.

“I know you've been missing this cock,” I growled, thrusting up into her harder, faster. I was racing towards my own, second orgasm, but I couldn't let up. Couldn't slow down. "I bet you've been thinking about it ever since you had me between your tits."

She didn't say anything in response...but she whimpered.

And it was a whimper of agreement. The first real acknowledgement from her that there physical desire on her side as well as mine; that there might be something more than resentment between us.

It was music to my ears. I redoubled my efforts, fucking her relentlessly, doing my best to keep from getting lost in the sensation. I focused on her, on the way her body responded to me.

I could feel her getting close, in spite of . Signs that were familiar to me, even with the years that had passed -- her pussy tightening, a slight trembling sensation around my thick length. The way her her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. Her nails digging into my thighs, hands clenched and unclenching.

I slid one hand around her hips, between her thighs, two of my fingers nestling up against the hard, wet bud of her clit. My other hand gripped the swell of her ass.

I wasn't going to last much longer. The idea that she might cum -- that I might finally exert some control over the situation -- was so hot, it was almost enough to send me over the edge just thinking about it.

I needed to end this.

"Cum on for me, Natalie," I whispered, my voice rough. "I want to feel you lose control on my cock."

She'd always liked it when I'd told her to cum. I was hoping that hadn't changed.

It hadn't.

She tensed up and froze, but only for a moment. Then she let out a piercing cry, her body locking up as the orgasm crashed through her. She clenched around me; I could feel slick fluid spilling down my cock as desperate, incoherent moans escaped her.

And then I had to focus on holding back.

Making her cum was nearly enough to set me off. I managed, barely. I rode the edge, clinging to control as she ground down onto my cock through her orgasm.

Finally she finally collapsed, her back against my chest, lying on top of me, one hand lazily stroking up my thigh.

We lay there for a moment, both of us panting. I could feel her shuddering breaths against my chest.

Mia was silent, her eyes wide, her own breathing shallow.

Natalie lifted her head, sat up on me somewhat unsteadily. She looking down at me, her expression shocked.

“Well,” she said, her voice shaky, “I guess we’re tied.”

I grinned, feeling a surge of pride. Maybe I could do this. “One more round and you're going to tell me what's going through your mind."

She rolled her eyes at my confidence. "Maybe. But I doubt it. You were close, too. I could tell."

Mia made a small, soft sound, and Natalie whipped her gaze to her in a moment, scowling. "Get out, Mia. You've had your fun, got your story for the break room."

Mia glanced at me. Opened her mouth like she was going to argue...but I gently shook my head.

Mia looked surprised. Disappointed. Hurt, maybe.

I understood. But I didn't think it was fair to turn the vulnerability I was feeling -- and that I was hoping Natalie would feel -- into a spectator sport.

We had our shit to figure out.

Both of us were quiet, both of us watching as Mia left, closing the door softly behind her.

Natalie pulled herself off me, twisting around atop me so that she was facing me once again. “This time, I’m not taking it easy on you.”

I nodded. "I don't want you to; I never wanted you to."

Her mouth twisted with the understanding that I wasn't talking about the sex.

She began to ride me, her movements wild, desperate, her hair flying, her tits bouncing with each thrust.

I was already close. I'd finished the first time, and that had helped me last longer in the most recent round. But I had gotten no such release.

The sensation of her tight, wet pussy milking me was almost too much to bear.

I gripped her hips, trying to slow her down, but she slapped my hands away, grinding down on me, her eyes blazing.

“You’re not going to last,” she taunted, breathless. “Not after that.”

She might be right. The problem with having gotten her off was how impossibly hot it had been, to finally have her cumming again for me.

I gritted my teeth, fighting for control, fighting the urge to just reach up, pull her down on top of me, and give in.

I knew it was a fight I was going to lose.

And then -- just as I had decided that this was it, that I couldn't do it -- my attention was diverted as the door opened again.

Denise bustled in, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Natalie riding me.

“Christ, James,” Denise said, closing the door quickly behind her.

I blinked. Even though Denise had an even keel, she didn't sound quite as shocked as I might've expected. I wondered if Mia had told her to show up. Probably.

I wondered what Natalie would do. For the moment, she just froze, looking over her shoulder, her face flushing.

Denise paused, taking in our body language, Natalie's expression. And then she shook her head, exasperated. “This is an astonishingly stupid way to work out whatever issues are between you two. Even for you, James. And Natalie-”

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't need a lecture." Evidently deciding that Denise wasn't going to stop us or report us, Natalie began rocking up and down my length -- more slowly, but with an insistent rhythm.

I didn't reply to Denise. I'd been grateful the brief reprieve, and as Natalie resumed, I tried to focus on keeping control of myself.

Denise laughed, a short, sharp bark. “Oh, I won't bother with the lecture. Not for you two.”

She moved closer. I could feel her eyes on my length, Natalie's body, as Natalie rode me.

“Look,” Denise said. Her voice was firm, reasonable. "I don't know what the problem between the two of us you is, but this has to stop. Trying to one-up each other this way is sheer stupidity.”

Natalie glared at her, and didn't respond...except to start riding me faster. I groaned.

Denise pressed on. “For fuck's sake, girl. Natalie, what are you so angry about?”

“I want him to know what it’s like,” Natalie hissed.

I could hear the raw edge to her voice, the vulnerability.

My orgasm receded, a little. In its place, I felt a lump rise in my throat.

“I want him to feel what I felt."

She twisted away from me before she continued. "I want him to know what it's like to have that sense that you lost something to someone else, fully and completely. That you weren't enough, and you might never get over them. I can't make him care about me. But I can at least make him know what it feels like to not be good enough, then walk away without ever even getting to talk about it. Just like he did to me."

I was speechless for a moment. Even with her face tilted away, I could see her eyes shining, the tears in them.

"Except I can't, now, because you've made me talk about it," Natalie said, brightly.

Denise, for her part, seemed unfazed by Natalie's attitude. She just turned her steady gaze on me. "Your turn, Jason."

"He has until he cums to talk about this," Natalie interjected, bitterly. "Then I'm done listening."

She redoubled her pace.

I struggled to ignore the physical sensations.

And -- for once -- it was a little easier than it had been. It still felt incredible, overwhelming. I wasn't going to last long...but I could last a little longer.

This was too important not to.

“I do know,” I said. “I didn't, when I arrived here. But I get it, Natalie. Ever since I saw you again, I haven’t been myself. Whether my stamina issues were because of the stabbing or you getting inside my head...well, trust me. You got your revenge.”

I got the words out unevenly, but clearly, in spite of her rolling her hips atop me. I could feel myself getting close to the edge, again.

"Did I?" Natalie's tone was surprisingly mild, although there was still some mistrust in her voice. I felt her slow down, but only slightly.

"...Yes," I paused, and then decided I wanted to make sure that I left everything on the table.

Flushing, I admitted, "I feel...broken. It's embarrassing, but I meant it when I said I couldn't handle you. Even right now, this...this is gonna make me cum. You feel so good. I-it's..." I trailed off into a blissful sigh, and just closed my eyes rather than finishing the sentence.

It felt good. Not just to clear the air -- I wasn't sure if we'd done that fully or not -- but at least we'd acknowledged the truth. That was enough.

And I'd effectively ended the competition: she felt good, I wasn't going to last much longer, and I was fine with that. I'd wanted to last -- but I'd already gotten what I wanted most anyway, the emotional truth out of her.

For a moment, there was silence...and then I realized that Natalie had slowed down even further. I opened my eyes to Natalie looking down at me. Her eyes had softened. There was a lot less anger.

“I didn’t want to break you,” she whispered. “I just wanted you to understand how it felt.”

“I didn't, back then. But I do, now,” I said, my voice rough. “And I'm...I'm sorry. It's confusing. And it hurts.”

I'd tried to apologize before.

But this time, the words felt different to say -- and I could tell they felt different for her to hear.

Natalie smiled; a tear slid down her cheek. It was a different kind of smile than the Natalie would've given me in college. A more mature one. One that had been hurt more, but also one that had healed.

But then, I had my share of wounds and healing scars now, too.

Natalie leaned down, her mouth finding mine, kissing me. It was a different kind of kiss, too. She moaned into my mouth. Her movements held a different kind of urgency in them, too; a sensuality had replaced the competitive cadence of someone who just wanted to win.

I could feel my orgasm building, the pressure becoming unbearable.

And then, Denise’s voice, low, cut through the haze. “Well. Go on then, James. Show her how much you want it."

She hadn't needed to say that; I was on the verge of a massive orgasm.

But Denise kept talking. "He does have such a nice big dick, doesn't he, Natalie? I bet you can practically feel it about to burst inside you.”

At Denise's words, Natalie’s eyes locked on mine, her body trembling as she rode me, her pussy clenching around me in that oh-so-familiar way once again.

"James-"

She was about to cum.

So was I. There wasn't time for me to say anything at all.

But I had already said everything that needed to be said anyway.

I felt the orgasm crash through me, unstoppable, overwhelming.

Natalie shuddered, her own climax overtaking her. I could feel her let out a shrill cry, muffled against my mouth.

And then I lost track of everything except the physical sensations, as we came together, my hands all over her body.

For a long moment, we were still. Silent, tangled together, our breathing slowing.

"I'll leave you to two it, then," Denise said, amicably. The door closed, and she bustled out.

And then I looked into Natalie's eyes. There was something exciting, there.

She just gave me a small, tentative, smile, before laying her head on me. "It's a draw, I guess. We'll have to have a rematch," she whispered against my chest.

I'd definitely popped at least a few stitches. But it didn't bother me. I was grinning like an idiot.

---

There were still loose ends to tie up, of course. I was stuck in the hospital convalescing for another few weeks.

It made things with Mia complicated and awkward. She liked me, and didn't like Natalie. Thought Natalie had treated me badly. She was confused and hurt that I'd evidently chosen Natalie; in some ways, that I'd chosen Natalie over her.

I felt bad about that. But I'd made a choice, I realized, and it felt like the right one. Once she realized that, Mia made herself scarce, and then her rotation ended.

And Kate stopped by, one more time. I had to turn down what was an extremely obvious and aggressive offer for more sex where she got me off as fast as she could. I wasn't sure what it'd be like to go back to work with her; maybe I needed to find a different bar to bounce for.

And Denise, of course, was fucking unbearable about how things turned out. I saw her every day, and the jokes and innuendo from her were both smug and relentless. How under her care, I hadn't just healed the stab wounds, but my broken heart, too. That she might go to med school after all, become a doctor, given how accurate her diagnosis of me had turned out to be. Or maybe she'd open a matchmaking or relationship counseling service.

Or, she'd say, waggling her eyebrows, maybe she'd just become a proctologist.

But I liked her too much and was too grateful -- for everything she'd done -- to object. She'd earned the right to be unbearable. So I laughed along and teased her right back, asking her where she was going to find her next husband if I wasn't on the market anymore, threatening to report her to the hospital's HR, that sort of thing.

And, most importantly: I saw Natalie almost every day. She left me for the end of her usual rounds, and then lingered in my room. We got caught up on a decade of life we'd missed.

We didn't have a rematch. We didn't specifically talk about it, but I think we both recognized that if this was going to work, we probably wanted to wait to explore it further once I was out of the hospital, not while I was inside.

So when I was finally discharged, and walked -- slowly, but under my own power -- out the front door, Natalie was there.

She'd taken the day off.

We were going to get coffee, and then go back to my place, to see whether my roommates had managed to keep any of the plants in my apartment alive.

Rekindling what we’d had was impossible.

But maybe, as we healed, we could build something new.

---

Author's Note: The finale!

Wrapping these up is always hard, because I have to pick only one way for the story to end. James x Kate, James x Mia, James x Denise, James-builds-a-harem-and-rides-off-into-the-sunset, and even James x Dr. Carlsen all appealed, for different reasons.

But this started as a story about James and Natalie, and so I thought ending it as a story about James and Natalie was fitting. Hope you enjoyed, and if you didn't, happy to take the heat in the comments. Thanks for reading. :)