BONE_A Contemporary Romantic Medical Suspense Story

by Dee Palmer

  “Yeah, okay…fuck!” I groan out, dragging my free hand through my hair. I drop my head right back and stare up through the glass panels that run either side of the high-pitched roof. The inky black sky is impossibly dark, unhindered by the light pollution of the densely populated city that I’m used to. The stars shine a little brighter here; the backdrop black seems a little sharper, and the silence is eerily peaceful and welcome. Harper interrupts and brings me quickly back to my waking nightmare.

  “I’m saying nothing you don’t know already, Regan, and I’m certainly not judging, but communication is king, and you two are both clearly pawns in this game of chess. You need to talk to each other.”

  “You’re right. We don’t communicate. We fuck, have fun, and keep massive fucking secrets from each other.” This self-revelation hits me hard and true. I’m such an idiot. I thought we talked. I believed we shared, but we really didn’t. The last eighteen months of my life appear before me like the soft filter veil has suddenly been ripped away, revealing the stark and ugly truth. You don’t treat someone you are supposed to love like this, simple. My nondisclosure was a mistake. The pregnancy was an accident, but at worst, I’ve been irresponsible. Joel’s decision is both calculated and cold

  “So?” Harper asks softly, interrupting my spiralling thoughts.

  “I don’t think I can do this on my own, Harper. I’m a horribly selfish person.” I flatly state the way I feel as the enormity of speaking the words out loud tears right through me. “Selfish and horrible. Fuck, I’m a monster for even thinking this, only—”

  “Hey, hey, stop. You’re not horrible, selfish, or any other derogatory adjective your head is currently fishing around for. You’re just scared.”

  “I know his feelings about unplanned pregnancy, Harper, and you know even that didn’t sway me, not really. I still thought I would be able to raise our baby, maybe not in the ideal ‘mom and dad and a white picket fence kind of way’. Not even together in a Ross and Rachel way, but I know him, and I’m not being naïve. This isn’t his girlfriend speaking here, I know him professionally. He’d still care; he couldn’t help himself. But if he’s not here? If he’s on the other side of the world, eight thousand miles away…”

  “Then tell him. He might not go.”

  “No, I wouldn’t do that. He’d resent me, or worse, hate me, and I can’t bear the thought of him ever hating me.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not going to tell him, and I’m going to take the first tablet in the morning. By the time I get back home, it will all be over.” My eyes spring with fresh tears, and my mouth pools with saliva that I struggle to swallow down. I wonder if I’ll even be able to swallow the pill let alone keep it in my stomach long enough. I feel so sick.

  “You brought it with you?”

  “I picked up the prescription on the way back from work on Friday. I didn’t want to leave the box in the apartment, just in case. Raleigh tends to invite all sorts over when I’m away, and she has no boundaries when it comes to going though my stuff. Privacy is an abstract concept to her. I didn’t want to just leave it lying around.”

  “Are you sure?” Harper asks. I pinch my eyes shut, failing to stop the tears that burst through regardless. I sob loud and broken.

  This can’t be happening.

  “No. Harper, I’m not sure. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know anything.”

  “Oh, babe, please don’t cry.” I can hear the hurt in her voice, she quiets and lets me break, spilling a river of tears and sadness not so silently into the night. Several of the saddest minutes of my life slip by when she finally speaks. “Regan, look, I want you to leave the decision for two days, come home, and I’ll take the day off, and we’ll really talk it through. I’m not trying to influence your choice here, but Joel just dropped a fucking bombshell on you, and I don’t think you’re in the right mind to make any decisions, let alone one that could haunt you for the rest of your life.” I nod even though she can’t see me. She’s right.

  “Thank you.”

  “I love you to the moon and back, babe, and don’t forget…you’ll survive.” Her voice holds more optimism that I’m capable of right now because I’m not so sure I will.

  “Bye, Harper.”

  “Are you ever coming out of there?” Joel calls from the bedroom. “We have to get on the road, lot of miles to crunch today, babe.” I swipe the condensation from the mirror and try to focus on the distorted reflection staring back at me. I look so pale, my wet hair slick and lank around my face, red-rimmed eyes swollen and heavy with too many tears. The image solidifies and fades as salty tears glaze my vision, and my heart heaves with a thousand silent sobs. I don’t recognise this person, and I have no fucking right to feel this sad. I’m such a fucking hypocrite. I crumple the packet still containing the pill that would end my pregnancy and throw it in the trash. Too late.

  I scoop handfuls of water from the running tap and splash it on my face. I can’t feel the sting from the icy water, I don’t feel refreshed, and my skin still feels raw from the rivers of tears that have streaked my face all night. Blood soaked tissue paper lies scattered on the floor by the toilet, the scene of my horror.

  I’m such a fucking hypocrite.

  I should be relieved. A decision I never wanted to make woke me in the small hours. My body buckled with crushing cramps, and I barely made it to the toilet to hide the tiny blood clot I cupped in my shaking hand.

  My baby.

  Today

  “You’re really going to stay?” I sit up and swing my legs to the side of the bed, keeping the covers tight around my waist, because, for some reason now, I’m all about modesty.

  “Ruby invited me. I’ll go if you want, but I wouldn’t want to disappoint a little girl on Christmas morning.”

  “She’ll get over it,” I quip. “Besides, why break the habit of a lifetime.”

  “Oh, come on, Reggie, those noises you made last night didn’t sound like I was disappointing you, but I’m happy to try again if you’re saying I’m off my game.” He slides perilously close to my part of the bed, and a wave of his sensual heat drenches me. His playful gaze darkens to something much more dangerous as I teeter both on the edge of the mattress and my sanity.

  “Fine. You can stay, but stop all this.” I wave my hand up and down between us with a flat palm, creating a much-needed invisible force field.

  “All this?” His faux innocence is cute, if wholly misplaced on his sinfully smug face.

  “All this flirting shit has to stop. I have all my friends coming round for dinner later, and I can’t have them knowing.”

  “About us?”

  “There is no us, Joel. There’s just me, my dry spell, and your talent for distraction.”

  “Hear that, buddy? She called you a talent.” He lifts the bedcovers, directing his slick comment at the organ currently tenting the sheets. I roll my eyes, fighting the very real pull of raw lust and desire to dive back beneath that all too tempting hotness. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m like a horny fourteen-year-old with zero control and no fucking sense whatsoever!

  “There are towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. Please lock the door. Ruby doesn’t need the full Joel experience. Finding you in her mother’s bed I’m sure will scar her for life as it is,” I snark.

  “She seemed to like me.” A flash of worry makes his brow wrinkle, but he shrugs it off.

  “It’s Christmas morning; she’s in a good mood.” I dismiss his observation with a tight sarcastic smile.

  “That makes two of us. You sure you don’t want me to try and sort yours out? Because, honestly, that scowl you’re sporting is putting a bit of a downer on my Christmas.”

  “Aaand you know where the front door is. Don’t let it hit you on the ass as you leave.” I snap. I can feel my hackles dancing the length of my spine, only I don’t understand why. I asked him to stay last night, and Ruby does seem to like him. He’s not the devil; he’s
just Joel, and that, I think, may be the real problem.

  “Oh ,baby, you couldn’t get rid of me today if you tried,” he taunts.

  “I bet I could.” My tone isn’t as impassive as I hoped, and the accusation in my words is deafening.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,”

  “It clearly isn’t nothing.”

  He holds my gaze, and as much as I should just shut my mouth, because this really isn’t the time… I clearly have no fucking sense.

  “I could tell you I love you, and then we’d not see each other for another five years.”

  “What the fuck! I didn’t leave because you told me you loved me, Regan. I left because I had a job offer I couldn’t refuse.” His eyes are wide with disbelief, and his neck muscles bulge with tension. He practically snarls the next words from his mouth. “I was dumb enough to think you’d understand. Stop laying this one at my feet. You ended us, not me.”

  “Potato, po-tah-to, Joel.” I aggressively fling the covers back, grab my PJ bottoms and hop-jump into them as I hurriedly head for the door. He leaps from the bed, gloriously naked, caging me against the closed door before I can make good my escape.

  “I didn’t want us to end, Regan. I never wanted us to end.” His breath washes over me. The warm scent engulfing me is a heady mix of him, us, and a sinfully long night together. This is all wrong.

  “And you healed your broken heart by fucking a close friend and her mother two days after we broke up?”

  “What?” He pulls away as if I’ve slapped him hard across the face with my revelation.

  “You know what, it doesn’t matter. We both made mistakes, and I’m really not about to make another one. You can stay for presents and Christmas dinner, but the minute Ruby falls asleep, you are out of here, and this”—I wiggle my finger between his heaving chest and me—“this doesn’t happen again. Are we clear?”

  “Crystal, Regan, crystal fucking clear. But while you’re riding high on that horse of yours, you might want to check your facts and tell me, did you become pregnant while I was in the departure lounge, or did you wait a whole week once I’d set foot on New Zealand soil?”

  “I…I…I checked my facts and saw the pictures. Believe me, Symphony was more than happy to sing your praises in the sack.” I deflect his accusation. I don’t have to justify myself to him. He made it perfectly clear he didn’t want a baby. Ruby is mine because I wanted her. How that happened has fuck all to do with him. He left.

  “Symphony is a fucking liar, but whatever eases your conscience, babe. Wouldn’t want that fucking halo to slip.”

  “Okay, out…out now!” I snap on every level; I lose my shit, yet still manage to keep my voice tempered to a hushed vitriol.

  “What?”

  “Did I stutter?” I roughly push him hard and in the centre of his chest. Taken off guard,, he stumbles back, his face comically stunned at my sudden change of mind. I pick up his jeans and bundle them up with whatever is in the vicinity that looks like it belongs to him. I’m fuming that he’s riled me like this. Anger, hurt and unbearably painful memories consume every rational thought, and all I see is red…so much red. “Get out!” I thrust the ball of clothing against his bare chest and push him toward my front door.

  “Regan, calm down. I’m sorry, but I didn’t do anything wrong,” he pleads, genuine remorse and hurt evident in his expression. He hops into his jeans and slips his shirt over his head.

  “Neither did I.” So much sadness tumbles out with the soft exhale of breath that I sag against the wall.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you.” He steps closer to take hold of the tops of my arms and prevent me from slipping to the floor.

  “I know you surgeons like to think of yourselves as gods, but trust me, Joel, this is one you will never be able to make right.”

  “Then it’s lucky for me that you are you.”

  “Because?”

  “Because at least I know you’ll give me a another chance. ‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’ ” He quotes my mantra, waving the words like a white flag. He arches a knowing brow and softly traces my jaw with the back of his knuckles.

  “That’s a low blow, Joel.”

  “And that surprises you?” He dips his head to keep the eye contact when I try to lower my gaze. “I just want to stay with you and Ruby today.”

  “And Joel always gets what Joel wants.” I sigh as my anger and resolve disintegrate in the intensity of his sincerity.

  “I hope so.”

  “Momma, Momma, pancakes! I want pancakes, please. Come on, Joel, come and see our tree.” Ruby rushes from the living room and grabs Joel’s hand, tugging him away from me. He steps slowly in the direction he is being dragged by a very determined little girl. He turns back to me and asks with genuine uncertainty, “So I can stay?”

  “I like that you asked, since you already know the answer has been decided by that little girl pulling your arm from its socket.”

  “I need to know it’s okay with this girl, all the same.” He motions to me, and I swear my heart feels the force of his non-touch like a lightning bolt. Shit.

  “You can stay.”

  “Do you need a hand with anything?” Joel leans against the door to the kitchen, his t-shirt rising up just enough to expose the curve of that muscle that slides deliciously into his pants. Hmmm, the Adonis belt. “Earth to Regan, can you get your mind out of my pants for five minutes? We have to keep it PG remember?”

  “What? Yes…no, I’ve got it all under control.” Unable to hide my wayward thoughts, I curse my skin, which is flashing seven colours of red from being caught.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I can do more than reheat these days, Joel, or were the pancakes not the fluffiest things this side of heaven?” I rightly boast.

  “I ate ten. I think that answers that question.” He pats his irritatingly flat stomach, and my eyes zero in on his hand as it drops lower and lower still. “I’m loving the new skills you’ve picked up, and not just in the kitchen.”

  “Joel…” I say his name as a warning.

  “Fine, but it’s going to be really hard…no pun intended.” He cups his cock, and I laugh, a short, sharp, and incredulous sound.

  “Oh, really?”

  “A little intended.” He waggles his brows playfully, and then his tongue sweeps across his lips so slowly I know under that fine layer of mischief there is nothing remotely playful about his intentions. “I actually meant you’ve peeled enough potatoes for an army, but there doesn’t seem to be much else going on.”

  “That’s because I have the smallest kitchen known to man and I’ve had to divide to conquer this festive feast. Bobbie and Ophelia from next door are bringing the turkey. Harper is in charge of other veggies. Cameron is bringing the ham. Scarlett and Nora are bringing the Christmas pudding, and Mila and Jack manage the French restaurant in town and are bringing the extra plates and glasses. Oh, and wine and cheese, obviously.”

  “Wow, that is organised and where is everyone going to sit?”

  “Between me and Ophelia we have enough chairs and she has a foldaway table. Its cramped, but no one seems to mind. I know I’ve lived in the States since I was little, but Mum never really did Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong; she didn’t really do Christmas, either, but I do still remember some that were good. I wanted Ruby to experience a little bit of her British heritage and a roast dinner is a tad more affordable than a trip to England. I shrug and finish the last potato, plopping it in with the rest in a large pan on the cooker. I wipe my hands clean and take a sip of my beer. Joel sips his coke, his eyes fixed on me with unnerving intensity. I puff out a breath and finish wiping down the surfaces for something to do. The short silence is equally unsettling. “We’ve done this since she was a baby, so if they do mind, they’ve never said. And trust me, not one of them holds back.”

  “That sounded like a warning,” he muses.

&nb
sp; “It was,” I confirm and take another sip from my bottle. Even at this rate, I’m going to be smashed by the time we sit to eat this afternoon.

  “Joel, come and play, please. You too, Momma.” Ruby squeezes past his legs and bounces into the room excitedly waving her arms. She stops when she spots the mini mince pies on the counter that are well within her reach. Her hand hovers, and she grins widely in my direction.

  “Can I have a pie, momma?” Ruby tries to steady her excited breathing, which is causing her to wheeze. If she doesn’t calm down, she knows I will have to get the ventilator to balance her oxygen intake, and that means sitting quietly for way too long on any morning, let alone Christmas.

  “Yes, please have more sugar.” My sarcastic response garners some giggling as she snatches the pastry and takes a nibble at the edge before a much larger bite. Her mouth bulges, and she scuttles back into the living room, happiness bursting infectiously from every pore in her little body. She sits quietly, crossed-legged on the floor, surrounded by wrapping paper and presents. She doesn’t start to play with anything, though, and when she smiles back at me, I couldn’t be prouder. She holds one hand on her chest and rests the other on her knee, finger and thumb touching as she takes in deep and steady breaths and calms the strain on her delicate lungs using a meditation technique I taught her.

  “She never misses a morning meditation. It’s a ritual.” I fib when Joel looks more than a little confused at Ruby’s unusual behaviour. I’m not sure he’s taken in, but her condition is really none of his business; she’s not his patient. “Thank you, again.” I walk over to Joel and place my hand on his chest and tap my fingers lightly over the soft cotton of his t-shirt. He presses them flat with his own and I can easily feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

  “You can stop thanking me, Regan, I got way more pleasure seeing her little face light up. For the sake of the few extra bucks I have to spend on buying some more presents, it’s a no-brainer.”

  “A few bucks?” I scoff and fruitlessly try to pull my hand free, the heat from our connection melting more than my panties.