by Hamel, B. B.
Doctor Can’t Get Enough
BB Hamel
Contents
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1. Bailey
2. Westin
3. Bailey
4. Westin
5. Bailey
6. Westin
7. Bailey
8. Westin
9. Bailey
10. Westin
11. Bailey
12. Westin
13. Bailey
14. Westin
15. Bailey
16. Westin
17. Bailey
18. Westin
19. Bailey
20. Westin
21. Bailey
22. Bailey
23. Westin
24. Bailey
Also by BB Hamel
Copyright © 2019 by B. B. Hamel
All rights reserved.
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1
Bailey
I feel like I might faint at any second. My heart’s racing, my hands are sweating, my knees are shaking, and I really regret eating breakfast.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life.
I lean against the back wall of the elevator and watch the numbers tick up. An older woman in a turtleneck is smiling at me, clearly trying to make conversation, but I’m not having it today.
I just can’t. I’m afraid I’ll vomit on her shoes.
“Visiting someone?” she asks me suddenly. I almost groan. I guess she couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” she continues, “you just don’t look like a patient. I know I shouldn’t pry.”
“Meeting with a doctor,” I manage to spit out without falling over.
“Oh, lovely, lovely. I’m seeing a friend, a dear friend, she had this awful complication from surgery and I’m just coming to lift her spirits, you know? It’s awful, so awful, the things that happen, but—”
Mercifully, the elevator stops at my floor. “I hope your friend feels better,” I say, slipping past her. “Good luck.”
“Oh, you too!”
She smiles at me and I give her a little wave before turning to face the hallway.
I take a deep breath and let it out.
I almost wish I had explained to that woman what I’m really doing here. Trying to save my mom’s life, you know, because no doctor is willing to perform that surgery that’ll let her live. She doesn’t need to hear that. Nobody needs to hear about the bleak realities of our current medical system.
Just have to keep going. One foot after the other, down the hall, breathing slowly.
Dr. Westin Turner’s office is the last on the right, a little corner spot that probably gets great light. I wouldn’t know though, since his door his shut tight.
I hesitate just a moment. I was told he’s in his office at this time every day, eating lunch alone. I was also told that he hates to be disturbed and isn’t a very nice man.
I think the actual words were, He’s a total prick, good luck with that.
I take another deep breath, another long exhale.
It doesn’t matter if he yells at me. None of that matters. I’m here for my mom and that’s it.
I’m not letting her waste away all because some doctors are too afraid to try and save her. I don’t care if they say it’s a risk we can’t take, that the pain isn’t the end of the world. I don’t care what they say.
They don’t know my mother.
She used to be the light of my world. She’s an incredible woman, raised me all by herself when my dad ran off. She worked two jobs and still managed to find time to get a degree, learn piano, and sing at church. Now she helps run an investment firm, or at least she did up until she got sick.
Now she’s just a husk compared to what she used to be. She’s in constant pain, barely able to move, barely able to even smile. I hate what she’s become and I can’t take no for an answer.
Which is how I ended up here. Westin Turner is known as the only doctor in the region that would even touch a surgery like this. He’s considered one of the best, most gifted surgeons around, which is why he has his own office. He specializes in risky surgeries, the kinds of surgeries most doctors would run away from screaming.
Not Westin Turner. He embraces the risk and comes out ahead.
I finally work up the nerve to raise my hand… and knock.
Three knocks, nice and quiet.
And nothing.
I wait a full minute. Nothing happens. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I’m at the wrong door, but no, that’s his name on the front, this is the right office. Maybe I was given bad information, maybe he’s not here today, maybe—
I knock again. I don’t let my nerves stop me. I knock louder this time. I keep knocking until I hear a voice inside.
“Okay, enough. I’m coming.”
I step back, heart racing.
The door opens slowly. I look into the face of the man that could possibly save my mother’s life, her very last hope, the man I’ve been praying can solve all my problems.
He glares at me like I’m the most annoying thing he’s seen all day.
“What do you want?”
I nearly run away. He’s tall, much taller than I expected. He’s muscular and fit, which is obvious from the tight button-down he’s wearing. And he’s incredibly, stupidly handsome.
I’m talking underwear model handsome. He’s gorgeous, with thick, dark hair and light green eyes that almost sparkle in the sparse hallway lighting. He’s almost beautiful, actually, and I can hardly stand it.
I think I really would run if my mother’s life weren’t at stake.
“My mom—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’m not doing it. Good luck.” He starts to shut the door.
I can see all my hope draining away. I can see my mother languishing in pain and eventually just wasting away, dying a shell of her former self. I can see her, completely gone before she’s even gone.
I kick my foot out and block the door. He nearly slams it on my toes. I groan in pain.
“Wait,” I say.
“Oh, damn it. You’re not going to try and sue me now, are you? I have a camera in here, and—”
“I’m not going to sue you. Will you just listen?”
He opens the door a crack and frowns at me. “Look, I don’t know what you want, but I’m not your man. Okay?”
“You have no clue what I want. You haven’t even let me talk yet.”
He sighs. “Look, I just—”
“No, you look, asshole. I came all the way out here to talk with you because you’re supposed to be some hotshot surgeon that actually takes on cases other doctors won’t. Maybe I got the wrong guy. Maybe you’re just some grumpy asshole that’s too busy to give a shit about people.”
I don’t know where that comes from. The anger just bubbles up from inside of me and spills out, boiling all over Dr. Turner.
He blinks a little bit and a shadow of a smile ghosts across his face. I glare back at him, completely annoyed.
“Is that how you talk to people you want to get something from?”
“Only when they’re being an asshole. Will you just listen to me?”
He cocks his head slightly. “Okay. You have two minutes.”
And with that, he disappears back into his office.
The door goes slack. Slowly, I push it open, heart racing. I follow him into the space and shut the door behind me.
He sits down in front of a desk and swivels to face me. The desk is shoved up against a wall in front of the windows. There’s a bookshelf crammed with medical texts, a filing cabinet, and more manila folders stuffed with files than I can count. It’s not exactly a mess, but it’s far from neat.
I take a deep breath. He’s watching me carefully, a half-eaten salad container on his desk next to a bottle of water and a paperback novel.
So I really am interrupting his lunch. Great. Good job, Bailey.
“My mom is really sick,” I say finally. “The doctors think she has some kind of spinal infection. She’s on all sorts of antibiotics but nothing’s working. They don’t think the infection will kill her… not yet, at least. But she’s in horrible pain. There’s a surgery that can help, but nobody will do it. Every other doctor I’ve spoken to has said that it’s too risky. They said at her age, it just isn’t worth it.” I pause for a second. “How is her life not worth it?” I ask at a whisper.
He frowns slightly, glancing at his watch. “Spinal osteomyelitis surgery?” he asks.
I nod once. “Yeah. That’s it. They said it just—”
“Too risky,” he says. “Sorry. There are plenty of drugs that’ll help. I don’t recommend surgery.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “You don’t even know my mom’s history. She’s been healthy, takes care of herself, jogs every day, she’s—”
“How old?” he cuts me off.
“Sixty-two,” I say.
“Too old,” he says, shaking his head. “Sorry. Too risky.”
“But… but you’re the doctor that takes on risky patients. You’re my last hope.”
A cloud passes over his face. He glances out the window for a second with a frown on his lips. He’s so handsome it almost hurts. It’s hard to hate him, especially when I really should right now.
“Sorry,” he says more softly. “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t take on those surgeries. I just… I’m sorry.” He finally turns back to me. “You have the wrong guy. Good luck.”
“Good luck?” I repeat stupidly. “You were my last shot.”
“Sorry,” he says again, glancing at his watch. “And your two minutes are up.”
I stare and I feel so much anger I can barely control myself. He turns away and faces his desk again, picking up the paperback and taking a bite of his lunch. I don’t move, not sure what to do, my body ringing with uncertainty.
This was supposed to work… he was supposed to take her on.
He wasn’t supposed to be a huge asshole.
“Are you still here?” he asks, glancing at me. “You can go.”
I take a step backward. I feel like I’m reeling, like I really might get sick.
My last hope, dashed on the floor.
“You really aren’t the man I thought you’d be,” I say, fighting tears.
I turn and leave his office. I slam the door behind me.
Bastard. Fucking bastard.
He didn’t even ask my name. Didn’t seem to care.
All he cared about was the risk.
Bastard.
All of them are selfish fucking bastards. They don’t care about my mother’s pain, they only care about getting sued. That’s all any of them can think about. The risk isn’t to my mother, not really. The risk is to the hospital and to the doctors themselves. They don’t want to risk a lawsuit, and so they won’t do the surgery.
I hate them. I hate him.
As I walk down the hall, I think I might fall over. It feels like my whole world is crashing down around me.
But no… no. This can’t be the end.
Dr. Turner really does those surgeries. He said… he said he’s not my guy anymore. Which means he used to be. Which means he could still be.
As I reach the elevator, I start to have another glimmer of hope in my chest.
That’s the odd thing about people, especially me. Hope always comes again, even when things seem darkest. I’m not going to let this destroy me…
And I’m not going to take no for an answer.
Dr. Turner is going to take my mother on and perform that surgery one way or another. I just have to figure out how I’m going to convince him.
But I am going to convince him.
I’ll do absolutely anything.
2
Westin
As I make my rounds, I keep thinking about the girl from yesterday afternoon.
It’s early morning Tuesday and I’m going through my patients. I have the usual things, like gallbladder removals, angioplasties, stent procedures, even a hysterectomy. These are the most common surgeries imaginable and I can do them in my sleep, but they’re the only patients I get these days.
Things have been like this for a few months now. It’s been one common surgery after another, low risk, nothing special. Boring, tedious, worthless. I’ve been flawless but that doesn’t matter. Cooper isn’t going to change her mind.
So having that strange girl appear at my office yesterday afternoon was a welcome break from the monotony of my current existence. I was starting to think I’d be stuck in this boring surgical hell forever… until she shows up.
It’s not like I’m taking her case. I mean, maybe I would’ve a few months ago, but not now. Cooper would never let me.
It’s more the girl herself that has me interested.
She’s on the short side, maybe five foot four at most, with long, thick brown hair and dark eyelashes. She’s pale, blue eyes, thin build with perky little breasts that I couldn’t stop staring at.
I wanted to ask her name… but I knew that would be a mistake.
Can’t give her any hope. That would almost be mean.
Still, she was gorgeous. I wanted to get to know her, bring her back to my place, strip her bare… study every curve.
That would be a more than welcome distraction.
But no, that’s not for me these days. Unfortunately, I had to throw her out. Cooper can’t get a whiff of anything like that girl and her sick mom, or else I’m going to be fucked sideways.
“You look distracted today, Westin.”
I glance over. Nany, my favorite nurse, grins at me. “You mean, I look handsome and charming?”
She laughs. “Hardly. If any of these people knew you like I do, they’d all run for the hills.”
“Please. I’m the best surgeon this hospital has.”
“That’s true. But you’re still bored senseless working these routine operations.”
“No operation is routine,” I recite.
She laughs, shaking her head. “Yeah, right. Maybe for other surgeons.”
“Are you just here to butter me up?”
“Yep. I have a patient down the hall that needs you and I like her, so be nice.”
I sigh. “You always want something.”
“It’s the way this place runs. You know that.”
I grumble but follow her into the next room and go through the same old song and dance. Just another routine hysterectomy, about as boring as it gets.
The morning drifts past. I see patient after patient, play by the rules, smile when I have to, explain when I have to. I have an appendectomy scheduled for right after lunch, so I hurry through my rounds so I have time to eat before I get to work.
I’m walking fast back to my office when Cooper herself pokes her head out of a conference room.
“Westin!” she says, waving at me. “How’s my favorite doctor?”
I frown at her. Grace Cooper is a tall woman, slight of build, with thick eyeglasses and curly hair. She’s intimidating to most people and one of the most no-nonsense humans I’ve ever met. I’d like her if it weren’t her job to make my life miserable.
“Fine. What do you want, Cooper?”
She smiles sweetly at me. Nobody calls her b
y her last name. I do it just to be annoying, and I know it works.
“I wanted to make sure you were ready for your surgery this afternoon?”
I plaster a grin on my face. I want to strangle her. “I’m ready, Cooper.”
“Good, good. I know you’ve been doing very well since the, uh, incident. But I just want to make sure you’re recovering and on track.”
“I’m fine.”
We stare at each other for a second.
Finally, she nods. “Good. Well, have a nice break.”
I turn and leave without another word.
God damn Grace Cooper.
I’m fuming as I head to my office. That woman is going to be the death of me, I can already feel it.
One thing went wrong. One tiny issue, one complication. It was my fault, I hate to admit it. Turns out, I’m not absolutely perfect. I made one little mistake that cost a patient some mobility. It was a risky surgery and the patient was lucky to even survive and walk away alive and in decent health.
But no, the mobility thing was an issue. So, they sued, it became a big case, I got dragged through court, and now the risky surgical procedures are done. No more, says Grace Cooper. And I’m on routine duty for a while.
It’s been hard, but I’m surviving. My whole career could be shot because of one small mistake, but I’ll survive. I’ll find a new way to perform the surgeries I’m good at, the surgeries nobody else will do.
As I approach my office, a figure suddenly stands up. I slow down and stop, staring at her for a second.
It’s the girl from yesterday. She was sitting on the floor outside of my office door, clearly waiting for me.
I sigh a little, my heart racing. “You again.”
