by Hamel, B. B.
Dr. Fake It
A Possessive Doctor Romance
BB Hamel
Contents
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1. Gavin
2. Erica
3. Gavin
4. Erica
5. Gavin
6. Erica
7. Gavin
8. Erica
9. Gavin
10. Erica
11. Gavin
12. Erica
13. Gavin
14. Erica
15. Gavin
16. Erica
17. Gavin
18. Erica
19. Gavin
20. Erica
21. Gavin
22. Erica
23. Gavin
24. Erica
25. Gavin
26. Erica
27. Gavin
28. Erica
29. Gavin
30. Erica
Also by BB Hamel
Copyright © 2020 by B. B. Hamel
All rights reserved.
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1
Gavin
I don’t normally eavesdrop on patients, but Erica was too interesting to ignore.
She showed up in the ER after a car accident a couple of days ago. The details about the accident were a little shady, which wasn’t too strange since people have trouble recalling trauma, but the way she seemed reluctant to even talk about it bothered me. She said she was driving with her mother, and apparently lost control and slammed into a utility pole—though neglected to mention exactly how she managed that. The mother was in a coma, but Erica walked away with minor injuries. She could’ve checked herself out whenever she wanted, but every time the nurses suggested she go home, she made some excuse to stick around.
I got the feeling that she was afraid of something.
So when two enormous men walked into her room one quiet evening, I couldn’t help but follow them.
They showed up right at the end of the visiting hours. Mercy General was a large hospital, one of the biggest in the Philadelphia region, and the second most popular in the city itself, so it wasn’t unusual for people to come and go. But for the past two days, this specific patient hadn’t seen a single person—and she’d barely let me examine her.
As I gently nudged open her door, I caught a look from Fiona at the nurses’ station. She sighed and rolled her eyes, like I was being a huge pain in her ass, but she always acted that way. Fiona was one of the best nurses in the hospital, and I was the young, hotshot doctor: we got along like cats and dogs. Even though we butt heads, when it came to our patients, we always saw eye to eye. I could tell she was pissed off that I was eavesdropping, but she knew me well enough to realize that I wouldn’t do something like this without a good reason.
At least I hoped so.
The voices inside were muffled but audible. I couldn’t see anything since they had the privacy screen pulled around the bed, but a heated conversation drifted out toward me.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Erica said, and I recognized the desperation in her tone.
“We want only what you owe,” one of the men said. His voice was deep and gravelly, and he sounded like he was talking to a toddler.
“I don’t owe anything. I have nothing to do with this.”
“You know that’s not true.”
Fiona snapped her fingers and glared at me. I waved her away as a patient rolled down the hallway in a wheelchair. It was an old man named Albert that checked himself in with a broken finger—although he couldn’t remember how he’d done it. He didn’t need a wheelchair, but he liked rolling around in it anyway. I pointed at Albert and raised my eyebrows, and Fiona sighed as she got up to corral the batty old geezer.
“Please, you know I had nothing to do with it. My father—he made his own decisions.”
“Your father made a lot of decisions, that’s about right.” I heard one man walk around the bed, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. “And now, unfortunately, you’re on the hook.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do. We don’t have any money.”
“Figure it out.”
“Please, you guys—”
“You know what my boss wants.” There was a chuckle, low and throaty. “If you don’t have the money, there are other ways to pay up.”
Erica let out a moan—of pain, or maybe surprise, I wasn’t sure. “I’m not going to marry him.”
“Aw, come on. Cosimo’s a good guy. A little rough around the edges, but who isn’t?”
“I don’t know why the hell he wants to marry me. I don’t even know him.”
“Don’t matter. What the boss wants, the boss gets, and you’re on the hook, girly. So take it from me: pay up and be smart. Marry the guy, make him happy, and have a good life.”
A short pause and I did my best to keep my breathing steady. I didn’t understand what I was hearing, but I knew it was messed up—way beyond anything I’d experienced before, and I’d seen a lot of shit in Mercy.
“Tell him no.” Her response was soft, and the fear was obvious.
“Suit yourself. He’ll send us back sooner or later to collect, whether it’s the money you owe, or something else.” Another laugh, and I heard footsteps—and barely had enough time to pull away. I ducked over to the room next door and slipped the chart out of the holder, flipping the pages open to look busy as the two big guys left the room. One of them shot me an odd frown, and I memorized his face: wide, fat nose, too-close eyes, shaved head, thin lips. They disappeared down the hall, back toward the elevators.
I lingered and slipped the chart back into the holder. I tried to process what the hell I’d heard when I spotted Fiona walking toward me. She had long auburn hair, green eyes, full lips, and an attitude that made me want to claw my eyes out. Her dark blue scrubs were accented with bright pink shoes.
“You want to explain yourself, Dr. Asshole?”
I grunted. “Not to the help.”
That annoyed her. It always did. “Seriously, you can’t just eavesdrop on your patients. They have rights.”
I frowned a little and looked back toward where the big guys disappeared. For a second, I considered telling Fiona what I’d heard, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me. Hell, I heard it, and I barely believed it.
That girl in there was involved with someone bad—mafia, or some kind of crime, I didn’t know. She apparently owed them money, or her father did, or something like that, but they wanted her to pay with her body instead.
It made me sick. Fucking bastards like that thought they could waltz through this world and take what they wanted, when they wanted it, and never thought about how they could make this existence better for other people. It was always about them, their needs, their comfort.
“I know,” I said. “Sorry Fiona. I won’t do it again.”
She opened her mouth, ready to tell me to go to hell, but I could tell I knocked her off balance. “Right, uh, okay, good.”
“I’m going to check on my patient now, if that’s okay with you.”
She sighed and waved a hand as she walked back to the nurses’ station. “Do whatever you need to do, doctor.”
I smiled a little the
n stepped up to Erica’s door and knocked. I heard a soft voice respond, and I stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind me.
The room was average for Mercy: pale greens and teals, the linoleum floor stained and scuffed from years of abuse and neglect. A small bathroom with a shower was in the far corner, and there was space for a second bed, though Erica had the room to herself so far. A television was mounted on the wall across from her, but it was currently turned off, and the only sound was the beep of her heart rate monitor.
“How are you feeling this evening?” I asked as I walked over to her chart and checked it out. Minor contusions, bruises and sprains, and a suspected concussion, but nothing that wouldn’t heal given time.
I looked up and met her eye—and for a second, thought I could understand why a stranger wanted to marry her. She was beautiful, with full pink lips and long, thick blonde hair. Her eyes were hazel, closer to brown, and her skin was a smooth, even tan. She was thin, maybe a few pounds underweight, but she carried it well.
“I’m okay,” she said, looking away.
“Sleeping all right? I know those beds are pretty bad.”
“I’m okay, doctor.”
“Call me Gavin.” I gave her my best smile and she turned to look at me, smiling back slightly.
“Gavin. I like that name.”
“Yeah? My mother chose it. You can give her credit.”
She gave me a little laugh. “I’ll make sure to do that.”
“So listen, your chart looks good. Tests all came back negative, and aside from the concussion, you’re in good shape.”
“Great, that’s, uh, good to hear.” She shifted uncomfortably and the thin sheet she had pulled up to her neck slipped down beneath her gown-covered breasts. I knew it was unprofessional to look—but I couldn’t help myself. She noticed me noticing her, and tugged the sheet back up.
“The thing is, we don’t normally let patients stay that don’t need to be here.” I tried to speak as softly and gently as I could. “Do you know what I mean?”
I saw a spike of fear run through her expression. “I, uh, I haven’t been feeling well. Nauseous, you know? Maybe that’s the concussion? I probably shouldn’t be alone right now, and anyway, my mom’s still here, and I just—”
“Listen, Erica. Do you mind if I ask you something?”
She closed her mouth for a second then shrugged. “Okay, fine. Go ahead.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked her slowly, meeting her gaze.
“I don’t know what you mean.” She looked down at the sheet and rolled the edge between her fingers.
“Those two guys that came in here. Do you, uh, know them?”
Her eyes shot back up. “Of course.”
“I’m just asking, because they looked a little, uh, rough. Are they family? We can put them on a list of people that aren’t allowed to visit.” That wasn’t exactly true—there was such a list, but it was reserved for serious cases. Hospital security didn’t like being put in the middle of petty family drama, so it was our policy to make sure there were things like court orders or the police involved before we kept anyone off the premises.
But I wanted to see how she reacted. Her face twisted through a couple emotions, elation at first, followed by confusion, and she finally settled on a kind of neutral annoyance. She shook her head and glared at me.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m only asking because you seem shaken.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, doctor,” she said. “I can handle myself.”
I smiled a little bit and nodded. I believed her when she said it—she had a hard look in her eyes, despite her beauty, and I had a feeling she’d lived a tough life. I’d seen a lot of people with that look come and go from Mercy over the years since I’d been a resident. We were a major hospital in a big urban environment, which meant we got a wide variety of people—many of whom were poor or in bad positions in life. When you were a doctor at Mercy, you had to learn how to read people, how to spot the junkies desperate for a pill prescription, how to find the neglected children, the abused spouse, the blackmail victims. I’d learned to become part doctor and part detective.
Besides, I had a soft spot for women like Erica, and not only because she was beautiful—but because something was happening to her and I wanted to help. I’d seen this sort of thing before, and I’d sworn never to let it happen again—not if I could do something about it.
“I had a sister once,” I started saying, but she interrupted me.
“I’m fine,” she said again, her voice hard. “Thanks for your concern but really, if this isn’t medical in nature, I’m not interested.”
I took a breath and forced myself to smile. I couldn’t make her talk if she didn’t want to.
“All right,” I said, “if that’s what you want then I’ll leave you alone. Press the call button if you need anything from the nurses, or if you change your mind and want to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Those men were my cousins.”
I shrugged, put her chart back, and walked to the door. I looked back at her one more time and caught an agonized expression on her face before I slipped back out through her door and slid it closed.
“How’s she doing?” Fiona asked as I approached the nurses’ station.
“Seems okay, but doesn’t want to go home.” I leaned against the counter and craned my neck over it. “How do her vitals look?”
“Fine,” she said, squinting at the monitor. “What’s the deal with her? Are you worried about something?”
I shook my head and looked back at the door. “Let me know if you see some guys come visit her again, okay?”
Fiona let out a little grunt of acknowledgment. “I’m going to assume this isn’t only because she’s pretty.”
I gave her a tight smile and rapped my knuckles on the station counter. “Thanks for your help.” I walked off before she could say anything.
That girl was deep in something and I wasn’t going to let her turn me away so easily. I wasn’t the kind of man that stood by and let things happened—that wasn’t why I became a doctor, and too much had happened in my life to let me turn my back on a girl that needed help.
I didn’t know exactly what was going on or what I could do, but I was going to try, whether she wanted me to or not.
2
Erica
My head spun as I leaned back in the hospital bed. Every inch of me ached from the accident still, but I knew it wasn’t the concussion that made me dizzy—no, it was the visit, those two mafia bastards with their big, eager smiles and their stupid threats. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched the sheet, trying to calm my heart rate. I didn’t want the nurses to come check on me.
I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt like I had no options—I couldn’t pay them back even if I wanted to, but I also couldn’t marry their boss. I met Cosimo once, before the accident. He showed up at my work and sat at a table in the back. He was quiet, polite, smiled a lot, and was even a little handsome—at least until he grabbed my wrist and told me that if I didn’t marry him then I’d regret it. After that, I made Tonya take over that table and spent ten minutes sobbing in the walk-in.
I couldn’t make myself stay in bed all night. As the sun sank down and visiting hours ended, I slipped out of bed, grabbed my IV stand, and snuck to my door. The nurse behind the desk was pretty with auburn hair and big hazel eyes, and she was busy writing something on a chart while another nurse gabbed on about something in her ear. I slipped around the corner and walked fast down the hall, pulling my IV with me, and reached the far end. I turned the corner and found my mother’s room, two doors down on the left. I pulled open the door, walked inside, and shut it behind me.
My mother lay on the bed with her eyes shut, her blankets pulled up to her chest, the machines beeping, and breathing, and churning away. I felt tears spring into my eyes as I walked over to the chair next to her bed and sank down into it. She had a large gash
down the side of her head that had been stitched shut, making her look like Frankenstein, or like she’d had brain surgery.
I squeezed my eyes shut and could feel the accident again, the black SUV ramming us from the side, the way my mother screamed as I tried to keep control of the car—and the way the world seemed to explode and turn to darkness when we slammed headfirst into a pole.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whispered, although I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. Maybe getting into the accident to begin with, or maybe for not marrying Cosimo when I had the chance—or maybe for not making sure she had her damn seatbelt on.
That’d been the thing that saved me from the worst of it, but she hadn’t been so lucky. If we’d been going a little faster, or if I hadn’t slammed on the brakes soon enough, she’d likely be dead instead of in a coma.
I felt an odd sense of desperation and leaned forward. She looked so old and fragile in her white and blue-speckled gown beneath the harsh lighting. Her hair was turning white, and we had the same smile, the same nose, though I had my father’s complexion and his attitude.
“Did you know how much he owed, Mom?” I asked, reaching out to hold her hand. “Did they come to you first?”
She didn’t answer, of course—she looked like she was sleeping. The doctors told me they didn’t know if she’d ever wake up, and if she’d ever be the same if she did. She might have suffered too much brain damage and it was very possible she’d need long-term intensive care for the rest of her life.
