When Dr. Hamilton walked inside, his eyes were immediately on me, like the answer to his questions would be written on my face. He tossed his notebook on the counter and looked at me.
I lifted the goggles from my head entirely.
“I’m sorry to pry, but—”
“We’re going to work it out.”
He gave a nod, and then a smile emerged. “Good.”
“I watched her match, we had some fun in the casino, and then we came home late last night.”
“Did she win?”
“Won her first. Lost her second.”
He gave a shrug before he lowered himself onto the stool. “Can’t win them all.”
“I think she was a bit distracted…”
“I’m sure.” He opened his notebook and got to work.
That was the end of it—and it felt a bit anticlimactic.
“Have you reconsidered Daisy’s proposal?” He flipped through his pages until he found what he searched for.
“I told her I didn’t want to go through that. She understood.”
He gave a nod. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll respect it.”
“Thanks.”
He found his page then looked up to stare at me.
I knew something was coming. I could read that look pretty well.
“I’m happy the two of you made up because you’re a good man for my daughter. You make her happy, you’re her equal, a very selfless person. But don’t fuck this up again.” His voice suddenly turned sinister. “Because if you hurt my daughter…I can’t exactly see straight.”
“Yes, I’ve picked up on that.”
He looked down at his notebook again. “Then let’s get back to work.”
Once the labs popped up in the system, I printed them out and dissected them at the pod in the hospital. Doctors weren’t supposed to print patient information and take it home with them, but we were exempt from the policy after a couple signatures from our patients and the hospital administration. I pored over this information, day in and day out. Wasn’t going to come to the hospital every time I wanted to check something.
Dr. Hamilton left a room, sanitized his hands outside the door, and then rubbed his palms together as he walked to the desk with the two computers. “Her condition is getting worse. Had to increase her oxygen. If she gets any less of it, she’ll suffocate…”
“It’s only been a day. She might improve.”
He fell into the chair, his shoulders slumped with fatigue. “We’ll see.”
I continued to examine the labs, a specific number standing out to me the most. “It’s strange…”
“Hmm?” He looked at the room he’d just left, his eyes clouded over in a haze.
“Patients who show the least improvement have the highest level of B cells…”
Dr. Hamilton turned to me. “That could be for a number of reasons, none of which are relevant to what we’re doing.”
“Maybe, but…”
“Some of the patients with diabetes are improving, so it has nothing to do with that.”
I continued to stare at the lab results.
“We’ll find it. We’ll just keep looking.”
I flipped through the papers, checking everything I came across. But in the back of my mind, I felt like I was missing something…or I’d found something.
“So, I got the ‘I’m gonna kill you if you hurt my daughter’ talk today.” I sat across from her at the bar, in my blue scrubs because I’d been at the hospital all day.
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Ignore him.”
“Kinda hard…when his eyes look like that.”
“Well, I have the same intensity in my eyes.”
“It’s cute when you do it, though.”
“Cute when I get mad?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah, like right now. It’s pretty cute.”
Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, and she dug her hand into the basket of fries. “I’ll give you cute…”
I got my drink and chugged it back, needing to cleanse the sterile air and monitor beeps from my body.
She’d also ordered a plate of tacos, so she ate one and smothered her face with guacamole and sour cream.
She was adorable no matter what she did, so it didn’t bother me.
“How was your day?”
I shrugged. “Being around sick people all day takes it out of you.”
“I’m not sure how my dad has done it so long.”
“He cares more than he aches.”
“I wonder if he’ll be less intense when he retires.”
“Doubt it,” I said. “He’ll probably go crazy being home all day. Maybe he’ll teach or something.”
“I can see my dad being a professor. How’s your research going?”
“Some of our patients are responding well. Others are not. About forty percent of our patients from the first trial reached remission.”
“That sounds awesome.”
“I’m still trying to figure out why the others didn’t respond at all.”
“I mean…that could be anything. It could be a gene in their DNA, for all we know. A protein that can’t be synthesized. Literally anything.”
“I know. But I’m going to find it.”
“I’m sure you will.” Affection filled her eyes, looking at me like she loved me with her whole heart.
“I noticed that the patients who aren’t doing well have higher levels of B cells…” I didn’t usually talk about my research with her because it was specialized medicine, but I missed collaborating with her, picking her big, beautiful brain. It was nice just to talk about everything, to share the thoughts that were always in my head.
“As in, they have diabetes?”
“That’s the thing. There are patients with diabetes who are responding well.”
She ate a few more fries, thinking. “Maybe the other patients are pre-diabetic and don’t even realize it, so they aren’t getting the insulin they need. That makes sense. But it may not be relevant to their response to the medication.”
“Yeah. It’s just strange to me that they all have the same elevated numbers.”
“Could that be a side effect to the medication?”
“I mean, it’s possible. Could be changing their blood glucose levels.”
She continued to eat, thinking quietly.
“If there’s a reason some aren’t responding, it has to be at the cellular level. B cells are initiated because of inflammation, caused by excess sugar, but also excess low-quality animal products. I mean, I don’t see how that would affect the effectiveness of the medication, but…it’s just a thought.”
“Inflammation is the number one killer on the planet. That’s not unrealistic.”
I kept mulling it over, scanning through the labs in my head, thinking, my brain pumping.
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah…I just need to figure it out before more people die.”
Two weeks later, we started to move her things.
“So, let me get this straight.” Derek was in a t-shirt and shorts despite the fall air outside. The trees were starting to turn red and gold, the temperature was dropping, the humidity fading too. “You’re leaving the place fully furnished…and you still have all this shit to move?”
Boxes upon boxes were stacked in the living room, nearly to the ceiling.
Daisy emerged from behind the wall of boxes. “Wow, you’re quick. Get moving.”
Derek turned to me. “Do you even have room for all this stuff?”
Oh, I did. They hadn’t seen my place yet. “Even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter.”
Daisy’s voice came from behind the wall. “Damn right.”
Dex walked inside, dressed for the move. He stopped when he saw the boxes. “Is this the Night’s Watch, and that’s the wall keeping out the Night’s King?”
“Shut up and move shit.” Daisy’s voice came again.
Dex turned to me. “You sure you want to do this
, man? Because we’d totally understand if you want to jump ship right about now.”
“Yeah,” Derek said, lowering his voice. “Get out while you can.”
Her brothers showed me no animosity despite the split. They acted exactly the same, which was nice. It felt like they were friends…even brothers. “If she’s anything like her dad, she’d totally kick my ass if I tried to bail now.”
“Ooooooh, burn.” Dex high-fived me.
Derek chuckled. “That was a good one.”
Daisy emerged from behind the wall, her hands on her hips. “If you’re going to just stand around and make jokes all day, go to a comedy club.”
“Why?” Dex asked. “When we can just make fun of you all day.”
She grabbed a box and chucked it at him.
She threw it so hard that it seemed light, but when Dex caught it and stumbled several feet back and his ass hit the wall, it was clear it wasn’t that light at all. “Jesus, this has to weigh like forty pounds.”
“That’s adrenaline for you.” She disappeared again.
Derek looked at his brother then at me, actually a little scared.
“I know,” I said with pride. “She’s strong.” They should have watched her throw Darin to the floor within a few moves.
Dex straightened himself, carrying the box with a grunt. “It feels like my stomach got punched in.”
“Then get to work if you don’t want to be next,” Daisy called.
“Why does this weigh so much?” Dex put the box on the floor and opened the lid. “Shoes?”
Daisy marched back around. “Hey, do you mind?”
“How do shoes weigh this much?” Dex asked.
“Because there’re a lot, okay?” Daisy yanked the box out of his hands and shoved it into Derek’s chest. “Can you do this or not?”
Without a word, Derek hurried the hell out of there.
Dex lay flat on the floor. “Geez…I’m tired.”
Daisy looked at me, shaking her head. “I guess if I wanted some muscle, I should have asked Little Deacon or Cam. They would be able to handle more than this goof.” She gave his shoe a gentle kick.
“You literally chucked a box of bricks at me,” Dex argued.
“Shoes,” Daisy said. “You can’t pick up shoes?”
“Not when they weigh forty pounds and they’re chucked at me like a fucking cannonball.”
This argument was going to go on for a long time, so I grabbed a box and headed to the door. “Don’t kill him while I’m gone.”
She continued to stand over him as he lay flat on the hardwood. “Can’t promise anything.”
“This place is sweeeeeet.” Dex walked inside with a stack of boxes in his arms. “The elevator opens right into the living room. How sick is that?” He moved inside and took a look around. “Dude, this place must have made a lot of panties drop.”
I ignored what he said because Daisy was right there. “You can take the boxes down the—”
“The only panties that are going to be dropping now are mine.” Daisy strutted down the hallway, holding a couple boxes herself.
Dex cringed in disgust. “Anyway…I’ll just follow her.”
We worked to bring everything up, piling her things in a couple spare bedrooms so they wouldn’t take up the space in the living room or the master that we would share together. Up and down the elevator we went, bringing more boxes, stuffing my big penthouse with all her belongings that she couldn’t live without.
Mainly clothes.
And shoes. Very heavy shoes, apparently.
It took us all day, our rental truck taking up a prime spot next to the sidewalk with the emergency lights flashing. By the end, we were all sweaty and tired—and starving.
Dex fell into the chair at the dining table. “If I don’t eat some pizza real soon, I’m going to die.”
I chuckled and grabbed my phone to order something for delivery.
“You’re a heart surgeon,” Daisy said. “I think if you eat pizza, you will die.”
He shrugged. “Eh, whatever.”
What I liked most about her brothers was their humility. You would never know they were two highly regarded experts in their field because they acted like they were nobody rather than somebody. “What do you guys want?”
“No anchovies,” Dex said. “Fucking gross…”
I ordered a couple pizzas then Derek volunteered to drive the truck back to the rental company.
We sat at the dining table together, drinking water as we rested after the long afternoon.
Dex was slumped over, his chin on his hand.
“You work out, so why are you so tired?” Daisy asked, not tired at all, despite the fact that she carried everything she picked up.
“Ugh, maybe because I have two kids?” Dex countered. “And then a wife I gotta please every night like it’s our first date.”
Daisy rolled her eyes then grabbed her phone to read a message. “My parents are downstairs. They want to join us.” She looked at me. “Is that cool?”
“They’re always welcome.” It had been a little tense after Dr. Hamilton threatened me, but that quickly passed, and we were colleagues and friends once more.
A moment later, they stepped out of the elevator and checked out the place.
Dex got to his feet and walked to his dad. “It’s a sick place, huh?”
Dr. Hamilton embraced his son with a hug and a pat on the back. “It is.” When he turned to me, there was the exact same affection in his eyes, the same warmth, and he walked up to me and embraced me the same way. Same squeeze. Same pat. Same look. Like I was a third son. “I know this place is big, but you’ve got room for all her stuff?”
“We’re about to find out.” I patted him on the back in return. “Pizza will be here soon.”
“Then we got here at the perfect time.” He stepped away.
Mrs. Hamilton came next, that motherly affection in her eyes. “You have a beautiful home.” She gave me a hug and a squeeze, her hand rubbing my back, accepting me like I was one of their own.
“Thank you.”
“How’s your closet?” she asked when she pulled away. “Because my daughter has a lot of shoes.”
I chuckled. “I only have a couple pairs, so she can have all the space.”
“You’re the perfect man for her.”
Daisy went to her dad next, and she was the one person he showed a different level of affection for. There was always a kiss on the temple, a one-armed hug with closed eyes, a pause, a breath, like he appreciated every moment he had with his daughter.
The elevator doors opened again, revealing Derek with a stack of pizza boxes. “Intercepted the pizza guy. Who’s hungry?”
“Oh, thank god.” Dex got out of his chair and took one of the boxes. “That shit smells good.”
We all gathered at the dining table together, eating pizza and drinking beer, and I sat with the Hamiltons like I was one of them. I hadn’t joined a family at the table in a long time, not during holidays and special occasions, and now it felt like I was. I felt like I belonged somewhere again.
We talked about the penthouse, how the move was, how Daisy decked her brother with a heavy box, all the while eating the pizza and leaving very little leftover. More beers were opened, and we relaxed.
Daisy left to use the bathroom, leaving me alone with her family.
But I felt like I was one of them whether she was in the room or not.
“Have you ever played poker with Daisy?” Dr. Hamilton asked.
“Nope,” I said. “I need to keep my money so I can feed her. She eats a lot of fries.”
“You said it…” Dex shook his head and kept eating.
“We spend most of our time together working, as lame as that sounds.” But it was nice, to have deep discussions about our patients and medicine. Every time one of us had a patient, they had two doctors because we worked together. If I were with another woman, finding something to talk about would be like pulling teeth. I could
only talk about sports and TV shows for so long, not when I cared about my profession so much.
“It’s not lame,” Dr. Hamilton said. “Cleo and I do the same thing.”
“It’s true,” Cleo said. “After dinner, we’re both on the couch, our laptops in our laps.”
Dr. Hamilton placed his arm over the back of her chair, giving her an affectionate look. “I think it’s pretty romantic. Both workaholics.”
“I think workaholism runs in the family.” Derek pulled out his phone and checked the screen. “Emerson hasn’t texted me once today…hope the kids don’t have her in a choke hold.”
A couple minutes later, Daisy returned and fell into her chair. Her mood was noticeably different, her skin a little pale.
Dr. Hamilton noticed it just as quickly. “You alright, sweetheart?”
She rubbed her stomach and shook her head. “Yeah, I’m good. I think I just ate too much.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dex teased.
My hand immediately went to her forehead. “You’re pretty warm.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Dex is right. Sometimes I don’t know when to cut myself off. I forget that I’m not eighteen anymore.”
“You want some water?”
“Sure.”
I went into the kitchen and got her water with ice and some ginger ale to settle her stomach. I set it in front of her then rubbed her back as I watched her sip it down. The conversation carried on.
Mrs. Hamilton looked at me. “My husband hasn’t been home much lately. I know you guys are working hard at the hospital.”
“I don’t know if we’re working hard,” I said. “Just working long.”
“I’m still overseeing patient care for my fellow researchers,” Dr. Hamilton said. “So, I’m at the hospital pretty much all the time now.”
Sometimes he was in the lab all day, but other times he popped in and out. I didn’t know what he did with the rest of his time, whether he was in his office doing paperwork or having meetings. But now I realized why his company did so well. Because he was involved in everything. He checked everything. He made sure every patient who came to his company was getting the same care as if he were their physician.
The Girl Who Always Wins (Soulless Book 13) Page 13
