Romance Me: A Collection Of Standalone & First In Series Books

by Florella Grant

  “Hey, careful where you’re going,” the intern called out as he steadied the girl after Dean passed.

  Dean ignored them and continued running after Reagan. She stopped by a window in the corridor and pressed her head against the chilled pane. This time when his hand reached for her, she didn’t flinch. Drops of water fell down the window from both sides as Reagan sobbed.

  “Maybe you should go home for the day,” he said.

  She turned around, wiped her eyes, and leaned into his chest. “That’s the last place I want to be,” Reagan told him.

  “I know, or maybe just go somewhere, anywhere but-”

  His pager sounded, interrupting any thoughts he had. Dean looked at it and gasped. “It’s Philip,” he told her and took off toward the elevator. Reagan knew Stillman told her to sit out until the next surgery, but little Philip had been her patient since he arrived at the hospital weeks before. She ran alongside Dean, neither of them saying anything to each other.

  Dean raced towards the boy’s room as soon as he pried the elevator doors opened. “Find Doctor Northrup stat,” he ordered. Reagan ran as fast as she could to the nurses’ station. Her hands shook as she entered the doctor’s number into the phone. Doctor Northrup had two numbers, a house phone and his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up either.

  Reagan left voicemails on both and instructed the floor RN to keep trying until she reached him. When Reagan knew the RN had the task under control, she took off toward Philip’s room to see what she could do for Dean.

  Chapter 9

  “CLEAR AN OR,” DEAN demanded as he unlocked the wheels on Philip’s bed. Reagan stepped inside the room, her hand covered her mouth, but then she gave orders to the floor nurses. They listened to every word she said, did whatever she asked of them without judgment. An hour before, Reagan bit the head off anyone who talked to her, now she regained full control and Dean knew she could be trusted.

  She ran out of the room just before Dean and one of the intern doctors rolled Philip’s bed out the door. He could hear Reagan shout, “Find someone to cover my schedule for the day. I’ll be in the OR with Doctor Everly.” They flew down the corridor toward the back elevator which was big enough for the bed and a team of professionals. Reagan didn’t miss a beat, she caught up to them and pounded the buttons inside the elevator to send them down to the operating rooms. She turned and said, “I can’t get a hold of Doctor Northrup, the charge nurse is still trying.”

  Sweat poured down his brow. Philip needed surgery and couldn’t wait for the lost doctor. He could do the procedure blindfolded, but the hospital required an attending doctor to supervise a fellow. “I can’t do this without him. What the hell am I going to do?” he cried out in fear of losing his patient.

  Reagan pulled her cell phone from her pocket and made a call. She reported everything that went on, what operating room they were taking Philip to, and that they needed an attending doctor right away. As the doors opened again, she turned to Dean and said, “Doctor Stillman is on his way.”

  They rushed Philip to the available operating room and began to prep him. “I can do it,” Dean informed her, “just need someone to be in here with me.”

  “That’s good,” Stillman called out as he rushed into the scrub room. “I haven’t performed a cardiac surgery since my residency.” His words left an uneasy feeling in Dean’s stomach, until he heard a faint laugh from Reagan.

  “Yes, he has,” she said. Dean looked to Garrett Stillman and noticed the slight grin on his face. If it was any other time, he might have found it funny, but Philip held a special place in his heart and there was no room to fool around.

  The room went quiet as Dean cut into the young boy again. Staff members sat in the observation deck above. Reagan stood by Dean’s side and did everything he asked of her. She barked orders to the circulating nurse and continued to check the young boy’s vital signs.

  His vision focused on the task. “We’re losing him,” Reagan cried out. Dean’s hands trembled as he glanced at Stillman. Stillman stood close and assisted but even with two surgeons working on Philip, he began to slip from them. “Blood pressure dropping,” Reagan called out.

  Stillman inched forward and took control. Dean held onto Philip’s tiny heart and pumped it. Reagan wiped his forehead, but he didn’t take his eyes off the patient. “Come on Champ, you can do this,” he said. He pumped, nothing, pumped more, still nothing.

  The monitors beeped then went silent. No, Philip, don’t give up! Everyone looked to him with sympathy, his hands trembled more than they did before. I’m so sorry I let you down.

  “Time of death, 5:32pm,” Garrett Stillman choked on his words.

  Dean looked up to find Reagan’s eyes watching his every move. A tear ran into her mask as she stood motionless, waiting for him to respond. Dean’s vision blurred and throat constricted. How am I going to tell his mother? He placed the heart back into Philip’s chest cavity and backed away from the operating table. When he backed into the door, he slipped out of the OR and ripped his protective gear off.

  Stillman stood beside Dean and washed his hands. “We did all we could,” he said. “It’s hard to see a child taken so young, that’s why I didn’t choose pediatrics. I don’t know how you do it.”

  Dean’s head hung low, but he didn’t hide his tears from anyone. “It’s been my calling,” he replied, his voice flat. “Although I’m not sure why at moments like this.”

  He finished cleaning and stormed away from the operating rooms. Inside the waiting room, he spotted Philip’s mother and kneeled in front of her. She leaned and embraced Dean; her sobbing broke his heart. He imagined his mother grieving in the same way if he passed away all those years before. Dean did his best to comfort her as she fumbled through her purse for her phone. She began calling family members. He signaled where he would be if she needed him, then stood up to give Philip’s mother privacy.

  Dean raced up the stairwell and down the corridor with Oswald’s photo. He stared at it until the sun set through the large window at the end of the hall. Why did you convince me to be a pediatric cardiac surgeon? How could you torture me this way? You aren’t here to coach me through this?

  His thoughts ate at him, emotions drained from his body. He didn’t hear anyone approach him until Reagan touched his arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she said. She brushed his arm and stood next to Dean. The pair remained quiet for a few minutes.

  Reagan looked up at the picture of Oswald then to Dean. “Did you know him?” Dean asked her. Reagan shook her head. “He’s the mentor I told you about.”

  “I knew the name, heard many good things about him, but he retired just before I started,” she said without tearing her glance away from the photo. “Rumor has it he passed away not too long ago.”

  A sob escaped Dean’s throat. “When I was Philip’s age, Doctor Oswald performed a similar surgery on me, saved my life.” Reagan’s jaw dropped, eyes widened, as her head turned toward him.

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Dean looked at her and saw a fresh batch of tears swelling in her eyes. “Dean,” she reached for his hand and entwined her fingers through his. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Reagan’s soft hand sat inside of his. Dean knew she held it out of friendliness, nothing more, but it felt like magic when they touched. “He took a liking to me,” he told her, needing to tell his story to someone. “My mother would bring me to Bay City to see him, although we lived fifty-five miles away. Oswald always treated me to lunch and told me stories of children he saved, but he never told me about the ones who didn’t make it.” Dean paused before going on. If he knew how many patients died with a great doctor like Oswald, he probably wouldn’t have followed in his footsteps. I’m nowhere near as talented as he was.

  “As I grew, we kept in touch on our own. My parents divorced, my father wanted nothing to do with me, and Oswald stepped in.” He could feel the stare of Reagan’s eyes burn into him but remained focused on t
he photo. “Hell, my parents didn’t have enough money to send me to community college, not to mention a prestigious med school.”

  “Oswald paid for your education?” Reagan asked. Dean nodded and slipped his hand away from hers, then put them in his pocket. “Dean, that’s an amazing story. Were you planning on coming to Bay City before he died?”

  A low chuckle escaped his throat. “It was his dream for him and me to perform surgery together. He used to say he’d come out of retirement for just one operation, only he didn’t make it. Now I feel I let him down,” Dean’s chest heaved as a cry slipped from inside him. “I’ve never felt more ashamed of myself as I did the moment Philip slipped through my fingers.”

  Reagan turned and embraced him. His head lowered to her shoulder and nuzzled into her neck. Her perfume drifted into his nose, alerting him how close they were, closer than in the bar. Dean’s hands reached up and held onto her upper arms as he pulled himself away and looked into her eyes. She’d been the only person who heard his story. His mother passed a few years before, his father, wherever he was, didn’t care. There was more to tell her, but he spilled enough.

  They straightened and walked down the corridor. Dean couldn’t speak for her, but his day was over, and he needed to get away. “Are you up for a cup of coffee?”

  “From the staff lounge, at this hour?” Reagan wrinkled her nose and giggled, “I’ll pass.” Her hip bumped into him as they approached the elevator.

  Dean kept his hands in his pockets, fumbling around with a pen. “Actually, I thought the café up the street might taste better.” Why am I nervous, it's not like I’m asking her out on a date?

  As they arrived on the main floor, she replied. “Yeah, but can you give me an hour, maybe a little more?”

  “Sure can,” Dean told her as they left in separate directions. “I’ll see you there.”

  Chapter 10

  AN HOUR LATER, MATT’S belongings were waiting for him by the door. Adrenaline rushed through Reagan’s veins as she gathered the last of his things. As she threw his soccer ball on top of the pile, the door opened.

  “What’s going on?” Matt held his hand against the door frame and looked at the pile.

  “I made it easy for you,” she told him. “Take your stuff and go.”

  Matt walked across the room and stood in front of her. Reagan turned her face away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Reagan,” he started, “I thought we were working this out. Aren’t we good?”

  He reached to touch her, but she swatted his hand away. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If he saw her with even the slightest of tears, she might lose her strength and that couldn’t happen. “I never said that, you did. We can’t be together while you fool around with other girls.”

  “I told you it wasn’t what you thought. I’m not cheating on you.”

  Reagan turned and faced the window. He inched closer, his breath smelled like beer and she wondered who he had drinks with? Matt touched her shoulder, and she spun around. “What’s this?” She pulled the phone number out of her pocket for him to see.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Not mine.”

  She stepped back to put space between them. “I found it in the laundry room.”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t know where it came from or who’s number it is.”

  “I do,” Reagan said. She ripped the paper and threw it down on the floor. “Your cashier friend from the hospital cafeteria.” He kept his gaze on her face, not withdrawing his plea. Reagan took her cell phone out of her pocket and opened the cashier’s social media page. She found it, the way she’d seen Dean do it, before gathering Matt’s property, knowing she’d need it to prove her point to him. “Look familiar,” she shoved the phone near his face. Matt shook his head again. “Well it should, you commented here.”

  “Reagan, please.” Matt tried again to take her hand, but she pushed him away. “That’s not me.”

  “You’re so full of shit it isn’t funny,” she screamed. “I’m done Matt. No more arguing, no more lies, just done.” She couldn’t fight the tears from falling but she stood her ground. His blank stare told her he’d deny it every single time he cheated. Reagan pointed to the door. “Go.” Now, you fucking bastard!

  Matt didn’t budge. “Let me explain that,” he said.

  Reagan stood next to him and slapped his face, an echo sounded in the room. “It’s over. I’m not changing my mind. I’m going out for an hour. When I come back, you better not be here.” She grabbed her keys and darted out the door, slamming it hard enough to knock a frame off the wall.

  When she arrived at the café, she hoped Dean would still be there. He’d been a major rock in her life and he probably didn’t even notice. The blood in her veins pumped fast, her skin heated and turned red. Coffee was the last thing she needed.

  Dean sat at a table in the back of the café when Reagan entered. His head hung as he stirred coffee in front of him. She knew he had a rough day too and wanted to have a drink with him because they both needed a friend. The more I see him, the more I want to see him.

  Reagan walked up to the table as his head lifted, and a smile spread across his face. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat across from him. “Can you stay for a while longer?”

  Dean took a sip from his mug. “Yes. It’s good to see you.”

  A waitress stepped up to the table and Reagan ordered a coffee. The waitress left then came back to the table with another cup. “Are you feeling any better,” Reagan asked Dean when they were alone again. He looked into her eyes and nodded. Before he could say anything, her throat closed, and tears shot out of her eyes. Keep it together. Everything that happened since she saw Dean last hit her at once. “Oh no.” Reagan wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve and turned her face. “I didn’t plan on falling apart.”

  Dean reached over and took her hand. He studied her face, though she tried not to look at him. “What happened?” he asked.

  A lump formed somewhere between her heart and her throat. The hot brew drizzled onto the table as the hand holding the coffee shook. Dean kept his eyes on her, waiting to hear what was wrong. Reagan tried to speak but her lips and tongue were too dry. She took a small sip to moisten them.

  “I went home, gathered all his things, and told him to get out.”

  “You kicked him out?” Dean didn’t change his composure or give her the ‘I told you so,’ speech. “That seems like the logical thing to do.”

  Reagan’s sobbing continued as she replayed the events in her head. “He came home just as I finished piling his things for him to take. He denied everything; I knew he would.” She sniffled and looked down. “Can you believe it? I showed him the number and her profile, he said it wasn’t him.”

  Dean laughed and looked up. He narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. “Then who was it?”

  Reagan continued to tell Dean everything Matt said to her and how she left. Talking about it to Dean took the weight off her shoulders. Reagan eased up and leaned her head against the chair.

  “It’s for the best,” Dean brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I know you don’t want to hear that but soon you’ll see. He didn’t deserve you.”

  They drank their coffee without speaking. A million things crossed Reagan’s mind. She pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to relieve some pressure that built up. The waitress came over and asked if they wanted more. Both shook their heads. Dean threw money on the table and stood up.

  Reagan followed but didn’t know why. She didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment. Dean must have sensed her discomfort and said, “Why don’t you spend the night with Mercy?”

  Reagan thought it was a good idea. She hadn’t told her best friend anything and realized it was time. “Maybe I’ll spend a few nights with her, give him a chance to get his things out.” Dean walked her to her Mazda and started to open the door when she fumbled with the key. “Thank you,” she mumbled then turned until their bodies we
re facing.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands slipped around her backside. Dean pulled her close to his chest. Their embrace lasted longer than a friendly hug should have. Reagan knew she should have backed off, but his strong arms were comforting. I need to hug this man more often.

  Dean cupped her face, his lips were close, breathing into Reagan’s. He inched forward. Reagan stayed still, allowing him to move in and press against her already swollen lips. It started as a soft peck, but they both craved more. She opened her mouth and pulled his head closer to hers. Dean kissed her with more passion than Matt had in months.

  They needed each other. He lost a patient and a colleague, and she lost her mate. At that moment, all that mattered was how good it felt to feel a human touch. Dean rubbed her back as her fingers combed his head. They continued holding each other after they came up for air.

  Their eyes met, and a tear leaked out of Reagan’s. Dean reached up with his thumb and wiped it away. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t have to tell him anything else, he knew, he understood what she was about to say, but she said it anyway. “I can’t do this yet.”

  “I know,” he whispered, then returned to opening her car door. “No awkward silences between us, deal?” Reagan grinned and nodded in agreement. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek before sitting behind the wheel. “Drive carefully,” he said as he shut the door.

  Dean stood and waved as she backed away. Reagan’s heart ached in a different way, like leaving Dean was wrong. The further she drove, the bigger the ache grew.

  THE HOUR WAS LATE AS Reagan leaned against Mercy's door. She rang the doorbell and pressed her head against the door. When Mercy opened it, Reagan nearly fell. “Can I come in?”

  Mercy didn't answer, just grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her into the apartment. Reagan's eyes and lips swelled, telling Mercy something was wrong. Mercy guided her to a chair and sat beside her. “What happened? What's wrong?”