Doctor Neil Oswald believed in Dean, mentored him, and Dean could never repay him for his kindness. As he stared at the framed picture, he felt his heart pounding. He’s the reason I’m the man I am today, the reason I’m back in Bay City. It’s just too bad he isn’t here with me.
Chapter 5
RAIN FELL AS REAGAN raced through the parking lot to get inside the main entrance of the hospital. She raised the hood of her jacket over her head, lugged her tote bag over her shoulder and made a run for it. When Reagan reached the door, someone held it open. “Thank you,” she said, not knowing who she was speaking to with the hood shielding her eyes.
“You’re welcome,” Dean’s husky voice answered. “I saw you coming, figured I’d be a nice guy and hold the door.”
Water splattered onto him as she tossed the hood off her head. He held his hand over his face to avoid getting wet, which only caused Reagan to shake the excess raindrops off. “I’m not as nice as you are,” she giggled.
Dean laughed, and she was glad he’d been a good sport. She looked up at him and noticed the grin on his face as they headed for the elevator. He seemed kind, something she wasn’t used to. The soft expression on his face eased Reagan. She smiled and felt her cheeks starting to burn but looked away when he glanced her way.
“How are you doing?” Dean asked as the elevator rose. “I’m not trying to intrude, just wondering.”
She smiled when she saw him smile. Why do I feel nervous? “I’m hanging in there,” she answered as her head lowered. Truth was, she wasn’t sure how she’d been feeling, one minute she’d been an emotional train wreck, the next she thought she was in control of her feelings.
Dean could tell she wasn’t being honest. He kept his distance and leaned against the rail with his hands in his pockets. “Relationships are hard,” he said as the door opened, and she approached the hall. “I’ll see you in the OR soon.”
“Aren’t you stopping here?” Reagan didn’t know why she asked, why would he? It was her job to set up the operating rooms, get the pre-op beds prepared, not his. She liked his company and almost assumed he was there to distract her.
“Not yet,” he called out as the doors shut. The last thing she saw was his eyes light up, but she shook her head.
Don’t look at his eyes, Reagan Fowler, whatever you do, don’t look at his eyes.
Mercy waited for her at the nurse’s station. She stood with a stance and her arms crossed over her abdomen. Reagan nodded and said, “Hi, you beat me here?”
Mercy said nothing for a few minutes. She let out a sigh and flicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Reagan couldn’t figure out what upset her friend. Fresh coffee filled the pot, so Reagan grabbed a cup. Mercy didn’t take her eyes off Reagan once. Finally, she spoke, “Why does the new guy know more about you than me? I’m your best friend.”
“What?” Where did that come from? Mercy’s reactions confused Reagan. They had many friends in common, and most of them were staff members of Bay City Medical.
“Dr. Everly said you had a bad day, and he gave me the impression that he knew you weren’t sick yesterday.”
“I was sick yesterday,” Reagan corrected her. She didn’t have a cold like she led others to believe, but she needed a mental health day.
Mercy plopped down in a rolled chair and kicked one toward Reagan. She sat and looked at her. “Well, he knows something I don’t know. And then you show up here today with him.” Mercy stated.
Reagan’s head shook and her face reddened at what Mercy implied. “We took the elevator together, nothing more. And,” she added, “I’ve been under a lot of stress and didn’t want to worry you. I broke down and cried, just a relief, and he saw me. Had I known who he was I wouldn’t have spilled any kind of personal information on him.”
“How did you not know he worked here?” Mercy asked. “He wears scrubs.”
The situation made Reagan laugh. She held her stomach and flipped her head back as the laughter echoed through the quiet room. Mercy didn’t seem to think anything was funny and the longer it took Reagan to explain things, the more annoyed she became. “Because I ran into the bathroom and he was in the next stall.”
Mercy still didn’t seem to find it amusing, but her eyebrows scrunched together. “He went into the lady’s room?” Reagan could see the wheels in her head working and didn’t want her to get the wrong impression of him.
“No, remember I said I made an ass of myself?” Mercy nodded and inched closer to Reagan as if she had a big secret and nobody else could hear. They were alone, she knew she could confess without another eavesdropping. “I ran into the men’s room!”
Mercy studied her face for a moment then burst out too. “Oh my God,” she covered her face and peeked through her opened fingers.
“So, I didn’t know he worked here. Although if I’d been thinking, I would have realized it.” Reagan couldn’t keep a straight face if she looked at her friend. She lowered her face to the ground as the ache in her heart reared its ugly face. “Matt and I are having some problems,” she told her. “I didn’t give Dean any details and no, I won’t tell you either.” Mercy’s face changed into concern and Reagan continued before her friend could say anything. “When I’m ready, you’ll be the first to know.”
Mercy kept quiet for a moment then brought her fingers up to her chin. “You’re on a first name basis with the new Fellow?”
Reagan crumbled a piece of paper and threw at her. “Stop, we all are.” Mercy had a love hate relationship with Matt, more hate than love. Reagan used to think they each vowed for her attention, but as the years went on, it was obvious Mercy just didn’t like him. Her friend didn’t need to say anything else; Reagan knew Mercy wanted better for her.
“He seems concerned for you, the cute doctor,” Mercy said with a grin. Reagan stood to start her duties, not in the mood for Mercy’s matchmaking games. When Mercy realized Reagan was ignoring her, she continued. “And have you checked out that ass of his?”
“Mercy, I’m with Matt,” Reagan said more in anger than anything else. She didn’t want anyone to think it was more than just a disagreement. “We’re having a rough patch, but I still love him,” she shouted as she headed toward the schedule board to see the day’s operations. “If you think Dean Everly is so cute, then go for it.”
“Not my type,” Mercy called out as she raced to catch up. Reagan shook her head and studied the days’ line up, ignoring her even when they stood shoulder to shoulder to see their assignments. “Oh look, I’m circulating with you today.”
Mercy and Reagan worked great as a team. Mercy trained to scrub too, but she didn’t enjoy standing in one place for long periods. When she circulated, Mercy could move around, work her way around the operating room. Sometimes she would run out to retrieve additional items or send messages to other staff members. Sometimes their roles were reversed, Mercy scrubbed in and Reagan became the circulating nurse. The change of pace eased their workload.
Reagan had a busy day scheduled. Although she was a pediatric scrub nurse, she scrubbed into general surgeries when needed. There were five surgeries she’d been scheduled for, only one pediatric. The thought caused her to ease a little. Operating on young children caused tension for all involved, something Reagan didn’t need.
There were just enough distractions to keep her mind clear for another day. She made a list of her assignments for the day and shoved the little notebook in her pocket. She found it hard to focus, which was unlike herself, and she didn’t like it. Reagan couldn’t help but think about Matt as she made her rounds and prepared the operating rooms.
He denied anything happened, but Reagan had doubts, she knew what she saw. She’d taken a day off to talk to Matt in hopes to resolve the hurt, but he didn’t. Matt worked while she stayed home and cried. She had dinner on the table when he arrived home, but he wasn’t hungry. The day ended like it started, quiet and alone.
A beep from her watch told Reagan it was almost time to start su
rgery number one. She scrubbed up and assisted Dr. Stillman. He made jokes while they sanitized their hands and arms and Reagan couldn’t help but smile. Garrett Stillman, the attending general surgeon, often told corny jokes that didn’t amuse her. Say something stupid and make me laugh. They worked well with each other and the day flew by.
“Can I get you anything, Garrett?” Reagan asked during their brief break from operations. “You look a little drained.”
“I could say the same about you,” he replied. They looked at each other and fell back onto the couch in the staff break area. He glanced at her and asked, “Have you scrubbed in with the new guy yet?”
“Not yet,” she replied, not minding answering his questions because she knew he wasn’t mingling. “I’m with him later though, I hear he’s an excellent surgeon.”
“Yeah me too,” Garrett Stillman said as his eyes closed.
That was it, he asked nothing about Dean. He didn’t know she confided with the new guy, he just asked out of curiosity. The way things should be. Reagan closed her eyes too and drifted away, something she’d never done before. A short time later, she felt a hand shake her knee. Her eyes peered open to see Mercy waking Stillman. “Last surgery of the day guys, we can do this.” Mercy pointed to her watch as Garrett and Reagan rose from the soft couch.
It might have been the last surgery for the day for Garrett and Mercy, but it wasn’t Reagan’s. She still had to scrub in with Dean Everly, time to see what skills he possessed.
Chapter 6
REAGAN CONTROLLED THE OR better than any nurse Dean ever saw. If she had a cocky attitude about her work, she deserved to. He asked around and discovered the staff at Bay City Medical looked up to her. Reagan meant business, and it showed in her work. She impressed him.
He was assisting in the surgery they worked together, which gave him an opportunity to watch her work. Reagan focused on the surgeon to make sure she did everything asked of her. They finished less than two hours after they started, but it was a simple valve repair, and they knew it wouldn’t take long.
Reagan lingered behind when they took the patient into recovery, like her friend had done the day before. Dean watched her move through the glass separating the operating room and the scrub room. Reagan eased from one end of the room to the next. The circulating nurse stood close to her as they cleaned, and Reagan turned her face. Her smile was contagious, and Dean was glad to see her happy.
A tap on his shoulder scared the living daylights out of Dean. He turned around and saw Mercy standing behind him and hoped she didn’t catch on to the way he looked at her friend. Reagan had a boyfriend, his throat restricted, knowing he enjoyed watching her body sway inside the operating room.
“Hey,” she said. “We got off on a bad note yesterday, just wanted to let you know there are no hard feelings.”
Dean wasn’t sure what she meant, they worked fine together. Her gaze focused on Reagan and a devious smile spread across her face. “I was looking for her,” she said then turned to face Dean once again. “Listen, a group of us are going over to the Waiting Room for drinks. It’s my job to force her to go, Reagan doesn’t go out too often. Anyway,” she stepped closer as she spoke. “Why don’t you come along? Meet the others.”
His head shook before his mouth could answer. Dean heard of the Waiting Room, a bar down the street, and knew most of the hospital staff patronized there. There was nothing wrong with it, drinking just wasn’t Dean’s thing. “I don’t know,” he answered, still looking in on Reagan. “Maybe next time.”
“No,” Mercy whined. She spun him around by his shoulders and forced him to look at her. “She needs you to go.” Dean’s mouth gaped at her remark. Reagan needs me? “I just told you, she doesn’t go out often and I think she could use a shot or two. If you’d go, she’d go.”
“Why?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. His heart pounded, waiting on the answer.
“Because if you go, I can tell her we’re going out to welcome you. She never misses a welcoming party.”
“That’s it?” he scratched his head, thinking things through. Reagan and the other nurse were coming out of the operating room and he knew he had to answer Mercy. “Okay, fine.”
Reagan looked at them as she entered the small room. Her mouth parted, like she wanted to say something, but words didn’t come out. She balled her fist and held them to her side as her eyes pierced through Mercy. “What’s going on out here?”
“I was just telling Dr. Everly that a group of us are going out for drinks to welcome him aboard,” Mercy explained. “He seemed skeptical at first, so I had to assure him it’s not some kind of scam. Just a group of friends having some drinks. You in?” Mercy played the situation like a pro.
Reagan looked at Dean, he thought she would decline the offer, knowing she was still working on her problems at home. “Of course,” she grinned and punched his arm.
What did I just get myself into?
“Wait,” Dean piped in on their excitement. “What do you guys do to welcome staff?”
The girls laughed as Reagan washed her hands, then exited the room. He followed them, more curious than ever. Reagan stopped walking, and he almost toppled into her. She turned toward him, put her hand on his chest and said, “We make you buy the first round.” They continued walking away while Dean stood still. That doesn't sound too bad.
Dean understood the joke when they arrived at the Waiting Room. First rounds cost him his first paycheck because of the size of their group. There had to be twenty staff members, from nurses to doctors, in their group.
“Don’t stress it,” Reagan leaned in and whispered, as if reading his mind. “They’ll buy drinks too, and most of us will slip something in your pocket to help with the burden, but don’t tell them I told you this. The test is to see if you’re willing to pay the way, and you passed.”
Reagan pulled out a stool and sat beside Dean. “What’s in the cola?” Dean asked as she swirled the ice around in her glass.
“Sugar,” Reagan teased and held the glass under his nose to smell the lack of alcohol.
“I’m surprised,” he stated, knowing her mind raced with things she didn’t want to reveal.
Reagan leaned on her elbow, her long brown hair flowing onto the bar, and turned her head until she faced him. Her body faced forward, and her other hand continued to swoosh ice cubes in the glass. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t know me.”
Dean lowered his head in shame, he didn’t know her, but with every waking minute he wanted to know her more. Did they kiss and make up? He considered asking, but like she said, he didn’t know her, and he didn’t want to pry. Reagan and Dean were almost strangers.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his face beginning to burn, and he was thankful his five o’clock shadow hid his shame. Don’t care for her, idiot, you know she’s not available! “Just that I know you’ve had a rough few days, thought a drink could calm your nerves or something.”
Instead of replying, Dean felt her lean into his arm, nearly knocking him off his seat. “Sure,” Reagan said, “and what’s in your glass? Vodka? Gin? Tonic maybe?” She referred to the carbonation rising from the bottom. “Or is that Sprite?”
Her eyes scanned his glass, looked up to him, and down to the drink again. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out, ready to answer her question like any strong man would. “Yeah,” he laughed, “it’s Sprite.” They huddled together to hide their laughter from the others who looked to see what had been funny. “Looks like we have something in common.”
“What brought you to Bay City?” She asked as she stood off the stool, her head nodded toward an empty table.
Dean took his glass and followed her lead. “It’s a long story,” he answered as they took new seats. “The short is, my mentor suggested it long before I reached this point in my career.” She leaned back into the chair and crossed her legs. Reagan’s thumbs circled each other, waiting for him to continue the story but there wasn’t much about it he cared
to share. Something in common! “So, is your boyfriend meeting you here?”
Dean took a long sip of his drink and wished it were stronger. Reagan’s eyes watered and he felt like a jerk for ruining a friendly conversation between two new friends. “I doubt it,” she answered. “Matt doesn’t enjoy being around my friends,” she told him. Dean understood, though if he were the lucky man she loved, he would show her off to everyone.
There you go again, stupid.
“That has to be rough,” he said, feeling like a moron for asking.
She stood and grabbed both of their glasses. “This one is on me and don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul about your Sprite.”
Dean couldn’t help but laugh as she pivoted and walked away. His stare followed her as she swayed across the crowded bar. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear her hips swung out a little further than he ever noticed before. As Reagan approached the bar, she leaned in and gave the bartender their order, then turned and smiled at Dean. His heart stopped beating. Dr. Oswald would not be happy after all the trouble he went through to keep it beating years ago.
“Thank you,” he said with a dry throat when she returned to the table. Reagan took a sip of her drink and he watched her swallow then lick her lips after.
Their alone time didn’t last long. Mercy and an athletic looking man approached the table and threw themselves into chairs. “Going to hog the new guy all to yourself, Rea?” The man nudged her arm as he spoke. Reagan brushed him away while Mercy sat back and laughed. Dean could tell the other nurse had a few drinks already, and they went straight to her head. The man leaned forward and stretched his arm across the table. “I’m Kennedy,” he said.
“Dean,” he shook his hand then wrinkled his brows in confusion. “Is that your first or last name,” he quizzed. What were the odds of two staff members with names of presidents?
Romance Me: A Collection Of Standalone & First In Series Books Page 24
