by Amity Cross
“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my attention back to Gunner.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you find him handsome. Duh.”
I did, but if I said it out loud, it was an invitation to a party I wasn’t sure I was ready for. When I fell for a guy, it was usually hard and fast and over in a matter of milliseconds…and it always got me into a lot of trouble. That’s why I clammed up and brushed away every guy who showed interest, because what if they turned out to be just another asshole out for convenient sex? I wanted more than that, so I could never be the one-night stand, fuck buddy type of woman.
“Sheesh, Walsh,” Gunner exclaimed. “If you don’t want a crack at him, I’ll gladly take your spot.”
I blinked at her, suddenly feeling a spike of jealousy sear through my body. I’d claimed Josh as a patient when he’d came into the ER, but had that claim been a little more personal? Maybe not until he’d woken up and turned on the alpha asshole charm. Just from our few exchanges, he was so not my type. In the teen movie that seemed to be my life, he was the bad boy from the other side of the tracks.
“Walsh!”
We both looked up as Archer appeared down the hall.
“Ugh,” I declared, turning my back so he wouldn’t see me rolling my eyes.
“What about Archer? He’s hot for you,” Gunner whispered. “Why—”
“Don’t get me started,” I shot back as the man himself came to a halt beside us.
“Walsh, can I get you to consult on a case of mine?” he asked, glancing between Gunner and me like he was so full of himself thinking we’d been talking about him for hours and hours.
Clicking the tablet screen off, I picked it up and shrugged. “Sure.” A case was a case, and it was what I was here for…Archer or no Archer.
He appeared pleased as punch as I followed him down the hall and into the elevator. He pressed the floor where Radiology was located, and the doors slid shut. Dammit. I was in a confined space—alone with Archer. I bet he was secretly wetting his pants—right at the front out the eye of his penis.
“What have you got?” I asked to fill in the awkward silence.
“Tumor,” he replied, glancing at me out the corner of his eye.
“Bone?”
He shrugged. “You’ll see.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. As I followed him out into the hall and down to Radiology, I knew he wasn’t telling me something. If it was a neuro case and he was asking for an ortho consult, it had to be something to do with the spine, neck, or skull. A brain tumor that that invaded the bone, the skull or vertebrae.
Opening the door to a room where he had set up his scans, he gestured for me to enter first.
Closing us inside the room, he said, “The patient is Sammy O’Connor, age eight.” He flipped on the screens, which dimmed the lights, and the scans appeared before us. Crossing my arms over my chest, I moved forward and peered at the mass Archer was so desperate for my consult on. It was a giant splotch on the spine, its brilliance outshining the bones it obscured. Shit.
No wonder he’d been coy about it. If I knew, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of standing here.
“The tumor is located here,” he said, pointing to the scan with the tip of his pen.
“I can see it, Archer. I can’t not see it.”
It was this huge smear against the thoracic vertebrae—T12, right above the lumbar—and on first glance, it looked like it was wrapped around the bone…fused to it. Then Archer grasped my shoulders and turned me to the next scan. I would’ve chewed him out for the inappropriate touching, but the sight of how deep this mass went had me lost for words.
“It’s wedged around the spinal cord,” he murmured, letting me go. “You can see here how it’s attached to the bone—and that’s how it started—but it has advanced rapidly.”
In all my years on rotation, I’d never seen anything like this. Tumors were usually found in the vertebrae itself or in the surrounding tissue, not in both at the same time and not this size. It was rare. So rare I’d probably never see anything like it again.
“Is it cancerous?”
“Unfortunately,” Archer replied. “Right now, he’s one sick little guy.”
Fuck. More bad news.
“I assume he’s lost all sensation from the T12 down.”
“Sammy has been confined to a wheelchair for the last few months. He’s had a colostomy bag installed and has been undergoing chemotherapy and other treatments to help slow the spread of the cancerous cells. He’s a pretty resilient little guy.”
“Why have they come here?” I asked, shaking my head. “This is advanced…almost inoperable. The fact that it’s cancerous means we’d have to get it all and the bone… He’d still have to undergo more treatment after the operation.” He was only eight years old, and to withstand all the poking and prodding… It would take a lot out of his little body. Perhaps too much.
“I like how you said almost inoperable.” Archer smiled at me like he knew a secret I didn’t. “His parents have tried every hospital in the country, talked to every neuro and ortho specialist they could see, and they’ve all said the same thing. There was nothing they could do.”
“So you’re saying this is their last stop?”
“Yep.” He turned back to the scans, and instantly, I knew he’d made a promise.
“Archer,” I snapped. “What did you say to them?”
He turned back to me and perched on the edge of the table, looking sheepish.
“I said we’d try, Hol,” he declared, wearing his god complex on his sleeve. “I didn’t tell them we could do it. I said we could try. No guarantees.”
“Even if we can get the tumor out, he’ll be paralyzed for the rest of his life. Then there’s the bone cancer. Fuck.”
“C’mon, Hol,” he said, pissing me off even more by using a nickname I loathed. “We might fail, but we might succeed.”
“You’re just thinking about the glory,” I snapped back at him. “Think about the quality of life this kid will have to endure. This could take years for him to beat.”
“You have to see him at least,” Archer said with a shrug. “He’s a fighter. So are the parents. They’re waiting to see you.”
“What? You signed me up for this without even asking me first?” I wanted to throttle the asshole. “It’s a kid, Archer. A fucking kid. The chances of him coming out of a surgery like this alive—”
“Is slim. I know.” He shrugged again. “The parents are aware of the risks. I spelled it out to them in black and white just like every surgeon they’d been to see before me.”
“And they still want to go ahead with a surgical plan?”
“What would you do if it were your kid, Hol? Would you sit by and watch them die or exhaust every option there was trying to save them?”
I shook my head. I didn’t have kids, obviously, so I only knew how to fight in odds. There was a less than ten percent chance the kid would come out the other side alive and a less than five percent chance he’d ever walk again if a miracle happened.
“This is their last chance,” he went on. “I couldn’t turn them away.”
Dr. Desmond Archer had a fucking heart. I never thought I’d see the day.
“Isn’t this like malpractice or something?” I argued lamely.
“Stop thinking about your strike rate, and come and meet them.”
I tightened my arms around my chest. “Why? So you can get me emotionally involved so I can’t say no?”
He smiled and leaned in close. “I think it’s already too late for that.”
I sighed sharply. “Asshole.”
Archer began laughing and slid an arm around my waist, guiding me toward the door. “Let’s go, but mind your P’s and Q’s in front of the patient, Hol.”
6
Josh
The feeling started to return to my legs on the third day after I woke up in the hospital.
It began as a tingling sensation in my t
oes before feeling like a bad case of pins and needles. Sparks’s minion Harper told me it was normal and would go away before long, but it didn’t mean I’d get out of physical therapy. I’d be stuck in here for another couple of days until I got my full range of motion back before they’d let me go.
That’s how I found myself in a room a couple of floors down, giving the nurse who was helping me stand and shuffle around like an old man a hard time.
I stood, and instantly, the world would shift. The sensation in my legs was alien, almost like they weren’t mine at all, and a little painful the moment I tried to support my body weight. Being a fighter meant I had a lot of muscle density, and balancing that on shaky legs meant that I was one big dude with a huge-ass temper tantrum brewing.
“Fuck,” I cursed, sitting back on the edge of the wheelchair.
“Up,” the nurse commanded.
“You go up,” I retorted. “I feel like I’ve got a bad case of pins and needles. You know how it feels when you put pressure on that?”
“Stop complaining, Mr. Caplin. This is meant to be hard.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You look like you enjoy working out,” she said, thoroughly annoyed. “And now you want to sit on your ass?”
“Are you allowed to say ‘ass’ to patients like that?” I retorted.
The nurse glanced over my shoulder and straightened up. “Dr. Walsh,” she called out. “Maybe you can take this troublemaker off my hands? He is your patient.”
Turning my head, I found myself excited to see the illusive Sparks. It’d been a while since I’d seen her, and I kinda missed her smart mouth always cutting me down a size.
“Is he at it again?” she asked the nurse with a sigh.
“He’s got a temper the size of an elephant.”
“Is she allowed to talk to me like that?” I complained.
“It’s called tough love, Mr. Caplin,” Sparks declared. “And it’s an effective form of treatment.”
My skin began to prickle, and it wasn’t from the returning sensation in my legs. Tough love sounded like a hell of a lot of fun if you asked me. Especially if it was administered by Dr. Walsh.
She handed her tablet to the nurse and stood in front of me. Gesturing for me to stand, she said, “Up, Mr. Caplin. The sooner you’re on your feet, the sooner you’re back at the gym. I assume that gets you going?”
She had a point. Fighting was the thing that defined who I was, so the sooner I could get back there, the sooner I’d be back in the cage.
I peered at the ID tag pinned to her coat lapel and realized I didn’t know her first name. I’d gotten used to calling her Sparks so when I saw her name was Holly, it didn’t seem to fit. Dr. Holly Walsh.
“I’m not getting any younger, Mr. Caplin,” she scolded me, wiggling her fingers.
Grasping the armrests on the wheelchair, I pushed myself up with little effort and instantly felt that weird sensation in my legs again.
“Take a couple of steps for me,” she commanded.
“It feels weird as fuck,” I cursed.
“It’s meant to. Now stop being such a baby and walk.”
Taking a deep breath, I did as she commanded. It was such a simple thing, walking, but it isn’t until it is taken away from you that you understand just how much you rely on your mobility. And after being flat on my back for a week or so, I realized just how much I loved fighting. So, I had to walk.
I took a couple of shaky steps, using the bar that had been mounted against the wall to steady myself. It was awkward using my left hand, but my right was clad in what felt like a ton of plaster.
“He walks for the pretty doctor,” the nurse muttered, clearly pissed off.
“I’ll finish up this session,” Sparks told her, trying to hide her laughter.
The nurse sighed in relief and placed the tablet next to the wheelchair.
When she was out of earshot, I said, “Thank God you came along.”
“You should be nicer to the nurses,” Sparks scolded me. “They can make your life hell, you know. Charm a nurse and you get the good dessert and the better pillows.”
I raised an eyebrow, my left hand tightening around the beam.
“I can’t always be here to oversee your therapy,” she went on. “I do have other patients.”
“But I like you, Sparks. You get the best outta me.”
Her cheeks heated as she shook her head. “Why do you call me that?”
Lifting up my right arm, I picked up a strand of her wild, red hair that had come loose from her messy ponytail. “Sparks.”
“Oh,” she murmured, moving away just enough to make me drop my hand.
“I’m sorry I was such a jerk to you,” I said, feeling the dent in my pride. “When I first woke up.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Frowning, I took another step, my joints beginning to warm up.
“That’s it?” I asked. “You’re so chill about it.”
“It’s the job,” she replied. “Patients get angry. It’s understandable when something isn’t right with them or their family members. Especially when it’s unexpected.”
Thinking about my temper, I said, “Then you have more patience than me.”
She smiled. I could tell it was forced, but I didn’t press her—at least, not until we’d gone through the walking and the exercises that I’d been given to get my legs moving again. Nothing too strenuous until full sensation had returned.
“You’re worried about something,” I said when I couldn’t leave it any longer.
“That’s a daily occurrence around here,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.
Her reply didn’t fly, so I prodded a little harder. “No, it’s something more.”
“You really want to know?” she asked. “With all the problems you have to deal with?”
I shrugged, returning to the wheelchair as my legs started to ache. I guess I was still a little bruised from the beating I’d taken. “I’m sick of my problems. I’d rather hear about yours.”
“I’m your doctor, Josh.”
I cocked my head to the side, the fact that she’d called me Mr. Caplin in front of the nurse not going over my head. Now that we were alone, it had returned to Josh.
I let my gaze run over her features, taking everything in. Her freckled nose, her honey coloured eyes that had flecks of dark brown through them, the way her hair escaped from her attempts at tying it back, and especially how her cheeks turned red when I stared at her. She thought I was hot.
“So what?” I argued. “I’m not telling anyone.” I didn’t have anyone to tell.
Leaning against the wall, she took a deep breath, her chest rising and looking really nice and full under those blue scrubs she wore. Like the typical bloke I was, I began to think about her naked, and my cock began to respond.
“I’ve got a difficult case, is all,” she said after a moment.
“It’s not looking good?”
“An eight-year-old boy,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s got a nasty tumor fused to his vertebrae. The core is probably eating away at his bones to the point of no return, but it’s twisted around his spinal cord…”
“So it’s dangerous to operate?” I asked. “You might nick the nerves or something?”
She stared at me with a curious expression and nodded. “One slip and he could be permanently paralyzed if he regains feeling at all, but that’s if we can find a way to operate. There may not be a way to remove it…and he might not even be able to handle the surgery.”
“I know the feeling,” I retorted, pushing myself to my feet to do another lap of the bar.
She gasped slightly, her lips parting, and my cock twitched for the second time. Thank fuck it was still working.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so…candidly about a patient like that,” she said, her cheeks flushing.
“I’m not telling anyone,” I replied and took a step forward, clutching the bar. “I used to watc
h Grey’s Anatomy with my Mum growing up. Everyone always seemed to have a hematoma or some random piece of metal sticking out of them. Then there was all the sex in the on-call room.”
Sparks flushed scarlet, and I began to laugh, the mood lightening.
“Stop it,” she hissed. “You say those things on purpose.”
I smiled slyly and took another step. It had gotten her to loosen up, hadn’t it? The tightly wound Dr. Holly Walsh had let her guard down and shown me a little bit of the woman underneath the surgeon.
The nurse from before was giving me a dirty look, so I kept the next thing out of my mouth G rated. “I think you’re pretty great, Dr. Walsh.”
Instead of flushing, her cheeks began to pale, and I paused, wondering if I’d overstepped some line I hadn’t known existed. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d said the wrong thing to a woman and got a slap for it, but telling a chick you thought they were great was always what they wanted to hear. Until right now, that was.
“I think we’ve done enough for today,” she said, smoothing down her white coat. “Tomorrow, we’ll assess your injuries again and increase the amount of walking. You’re bouncing back really great, Mr. Caplin.”
And we were back to Mr. Caplin again.
Sighing, I shuffled back to the chair and sat my ass in it.
“Judy,” she called out to the grumpy nurse. “Could you please take Mr. Caplin back to his room?”
She smiled thinly like she was about to be tortured to hell and back and began wheeling me away from Sparks. Glancing back at the doc as we left the room, I was surprised to see her swipe the back of her hand over her eyes.
Was what I said that bad?
I’d been sleeping pretty well since I’d been in the hospital. They gave me meds to help me rest, but tonight, I didn’t much feel like sleeping.
My mind kept going over what I’d said to Sparks and her weird reaction. I thought over what I knew about her, and it wasn’t much at all. Definitely not enough to form the attachment to her that I had.
