Lucky Star

by Allie Everhart

  "They could still finalize the divorce."

  "They could, but they never seem to get around to doing it. They've been separated for five years."

  "That's odd."

  "What about your family? Are your parents still together?"

  "My mom passed a few years ago. My dad's remarried."

  "Sorry about your mom."

  He just nods.

  "Do you like your stepmom?"

  "She's okay. I was in med school when she married my dad so I haven't spent much time around her."

  "Do you have brothers and sisters?"

  "A sister. She lives in Denver."

  "Let me guess. She's a doctor?"

  "Brain surgeon."

  "Like your grandpa. So you were supposed to copy your dad and be a heart surgeon."

  "That was the plan until I broke my finger."

  His phone rings.

  "You can answer it," I say.

  He sees who it is and sends the call to voicemail just as a text chimes.

  "It's the food," he says. "I'll be right back."

  A few minutes later he returns with a footlong sub, a bag of chips, and two giant brownies.

  "Dig in," he says as he takes a brownie for himself.

  "Why didn't you get yourself a sandwich?"

  "I'm not that hungry."

  "So you're just eating a brownie? That's not a very nutritious dinner. As a doctor, aren't you supposed to set an example for healthy eating?"

  "I usually do but today I needed the brownie. It's been a bad week."

  "Because of the accident?"

  "Because of a lot of stuff," he mutters as he unwraps his brownie.

  "What else happened?"

  "Well, for one, that little girl I told you about. The one with cancer? I know it's part of the job but it still bothers me. She's so young." He shakes his head. "This is why I shouldn't get emotionally involved with patients."

  "There's nothing wrong with feeling compassion for your patients. You're human. It's normal. You wouldn't be a very good doctor if you didn't care about your patients."

  He points to my sandwich. "What do you think?"

  "I've only had one bite but so far it's good. You want some?"

  "The brownie's enough."

  "No, it's not. C'mon. I can't eat this whole thing. Take the other half." I hand it to him. "If you don't eat it I'll just throw it out."

  He takes it from me. "You can't throw out one of Tony's sandwiches."

  "You good at word puzzles?" I ask.

  "Not really. Why?"

  I flip the TV to Wheel of Fortune and we try to guess the puzzles as we eat our sandwiches. He may be a smart doctor but I'm better than him at solving word puzzles. It comes from years of eating dinner in front of the TV, watching Wheel of Fortune and other game shows. My parents and brother aren't big talkers so the TV was always on during meals.

  "I should get going," Corbin says, getting up from his chair. "I'll stop by in the morning to see how you're doing. I've asked them to let me know when you're being released so I can come get you and take you to your apartment. If you need anything, like groceries, we can stop at a store on the way to your place."

  "You think they'll send me home tomorrow?"

  "That's the plan unless something changes. Need anything else before I leave?"

  "No. I'm fine. Thanks. And thanks for being here with me. It made the time go faster. And, well, it was just nice having someone here. See you tomorrow."

  I don't want him to leave but I know he needs to. He hasn't been home in almost two days.

  He's at the door now, looking back at me.

  "Aren't you going?" I ask.

  He looks down a moment, then back up. "You good at trivia?"

  "Not really. Why?"

  He points to the TV. Jeopardy is starting. "You kicked my ass at Wheel of Fortune. I need to earn back my dignity."

  I laugh. "You can't handle a girl winning?"

  "I'm all for girls winning but that doesn't mean I'm not competitive. What do you say? Rematch with Jeopardy?"

  "I still might beat you. You're not going to know the popular culture categories."

  "How do you know? I go to movies. Watch TV."

  I shrug. "Okay. Let's do it."

  I'm surprised he doesn't want to go home. Is he staying because he wants to spend more time with me? Or is he just being nice? Either way, I'm thrilled he decided to stay. I didn't want him to go.

  I'm falling for this guy. I just met him and I'm already falling for him, which is really bad because after tomorrow I'll probably never see him again.

  Chapter Seven

  Star

  "Ready to go?" Corbin walks in my room, a big smile on his face. He's all cleaned up, his dark hair neatly in place, wearing gray dress pants and a white button-up shirt. He looks more like a doctor than he did yesterday, or maybe it's just the lab coat he has on.

  "What do you mean?" I sit up.

  "Dr. Miller just told me you're cleared for release. The nurse will be in shortly to go over care instructions for when you're home."

  I'm not ready to go home. I don't want to. Not yet. Going home means having to find a new job, figuring out what's wrong with my car, and enduring my very loud roommates when my head is still pounding. And at home I have to sleep on an air mattress that doesn't hold air.

  Sad as it sounds, I'd rather spend another day at the hospital. At least here I get to sleep in a real bed and can put off having to find a job. And being here means being able to see Corbin. I want another day with him. He stayed here last night until I fell asleep. We watched TV and talked, and although he kept telling me to rest I couldn't do it. I knew if I fell asleep he'd leave and I didn't want him to. I finally dozed off around ten and when I woke up in the night he was gone.

  "What time is it?" I ask, searching for my phone.

  "Just after nine," Corbin says. "The release paperwork should be done by ten and then we can go."

  "Don't you have to work?" I ask, pointing at his lab coat.

  "I told them I needed a few hours off. Leah will cover for me. She's one of the other doctors."

  "You really don't need to do all this. I could just take a cab back to my apartment."

  "Not an option." He goes over to the window and opens the drapes, filling the room with sunlight. "I'm the reason you're here. I'm going to make sure you get home safe and have everything you need."

  My throat tickles and I cough, which triggers more coughing and I can't make it stop. Corbin comes over and hands me the cup of water that was on my bedside table.

  "Try to drink." He sits down on the bed and waits for me to gulp down some water.

  "Thanks." I hand him the glass, my other hand rubbing my sore ribs which took a beating from all the coughing.

  "They're gonna hurt for awhile," he says, setting the cup down. "Bruised ribs take time to heal. We'll get you some medicine to help with the cough."

  Thinking of my very limited cash supply, I say, "I'll be fine. It's just a cold."

  He places the back of his hand on my forehead. "You still have a slight fever." He lowers his hand to my arm, gently rubbing it. "I just have to say again how sorry I am. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

  I want to ask him to keep rubbing my arm in that slow gentle way that's comforting but also slightly arousing. I know he's just doing it as part of the whole beside manner thing, trying to comfort the patient, but my attraction to him is making it more than that. I'm sure that happens a lot with his patients. He's too good looking for it not to.

  He lets go of my arm as his phone dings. He checks it and stands up. "I need to go back to the clinic. It shouldn't take long."

  "Corbin, if you need to—"

  "I'm taking you home," he says sternly. "You're not taking a cab."

  I nod.

  "I'll be back soon." He walks to the door, then stops and turns back to me. "I almost forgot." He points to a blue sack sitting on the chair next to my bed. "
I brought you some clothes. Yours were ruined in the accident."

  "Mine were ruined?" I ask, saddened because I spent a good chunk of my savings on those clothes, wanting to impress my boss on my first day of work.

  "Your pants and coat got torn on the bike when it flipped over."

  "What about my blouse?" I ask, because it cost more than the pants and coat combined. I figured I'd wear it a lot so it was worth the price.

  "I had to rip it open to see assess any damage to your ribs before I performed CPR."

  He ripped open my blouse? So he saw me in just my bra? Or did he take that off too? I'm too embarrassed to ask.

  "You did CPR on me?"

  "When you passed out. Star, I have to go deal with this issue at the clinic. I'll be back shortly."

  "Yeah, bye."

  I watch him leave, the door slowly closing behind him.

  He saw me topless. And gave me mouth-to-mouth. And it didn't even affect him. To him, I'm just a patient. Nothing more. Yet I keep imagining him as more than that. It must be that thing where patients fall for their doctor. There's a name for it. I can't remember what it is but I obviously have it because I can't stop thinking of him as more than just a doctor.

  The nurse appears and does a final check of my vital signs, then gives me care instructions for my stitches and concussion. She schedules my follow-up appointment for a week from today although I doubt I'll go. I can't afford it.

  "You can go ahead and get dressed," the nurse says as she leaves.

  Still feeling weak, I slowly get up and make my way to the bathroom.

  "Holy crap," I say, seeing myself in the mirror. I look terrible. My hair's sticking up all different directions, there are bags under my eyes, and the only color in my face is from my nose, which is red from my cold. There's no way Corbin's attracted to me. How could he be? I'm a mess. His caring, gentle touches were simply meant to comfort me. Just something he learned in med school. Beside manner 101.

  After a quick shower I return to my room and take out the clothes Corbin left me. They still have the tags on. There's a pair of black sweatpants, a white t-shirt, and a gray hoodie, all with the hospital logo. They must be from the gift shop, the only store he could get to in between seeing patients this morning.

  It's nice of him to do all this for me. I know he feels guilty for the accident but he could've just left me with the number of his insurance company and never spoken to me again, like most people would do.

  After getting dressed I wait in bed, my hair damp because there wasn't a blow dryer in the bathroom. It feels good to be in real clothes again instead of a skimpy, scratchy hospital gown.

  Right before ten, Corbin shows up. He's not smiling this time and seems to be in a rush, walking fast as he hurries in my room.

  "You okay?" I ask as he checks his pockets for something.

  He looks up at me and his smile appears. "I'm fine. Ready to go?"

  "Yeah." I point to myself. "Thanks for the clothes. They're a little big but way better than a hospital gown."

  "I would've got you something better but I had to be at work at seven and nothing was open but the hospital gift shop."

  "It's fine." I smile. "Now I'll have something to remember my visit here."

  "I'm sure you'd rather forget." He searches his lab coat pocket and takes out his keys. "So that's where I put them. I'm a little out of it today. Didn't get much sleep last night."

  "Why didn't you sleep?"

  "I keep thinking about the accident and how I could've prevented it. If I'd just paid more attention..."

  "Corbin, it's over. You can't keep reliving it. And besides, I'm fine." I shove the covers back and stand up on my good leg. A wave of dizziness hits me and my vision blurs. I wobble until I feel strong arms go around me and gently sit me back on the bed.

  "You can't get up that fast," Corbin says. "Even if you're feeling okay, you need to take things slow the next week or two. Nothing strenuous. Nothing too physical. And you need to rest your brain."

  "So no Jeopardy?"

  "Shit." He scrubs his hand through his hair. "I wasn't even thinking of that. We shouldn't have watched that last night."

  "I'm kidding. Watching Jeopardy with you didn't hurt my brain. It was fun. And better than sitting here alone all night. I'm sure you had better things to do but—"

  "I didn't," he interrupts, then smiles. "Have better things to do. I liked being here."

  We exchange a look. A gaze that lingers and makes me wonder if maybe he actually does feel something for me. Something more than what he'd feel if I were just a patient. But then he looks away as the door swings open.

  The nurse comes in with a wheelchair. Corbin insists on helping me into it, which seems ridiculous but given my recent dizzy spill, maybe I need the help.

  "What about shoes?" I ask, noticing my feet are bare.

  Corbin looks at the nurse. "Did Kylie remember to bring them?"

  "Yes. I'll grab them along with her phone."

  The nurse takes off, then returns moments later with a pair of socks and bright pink running shoes.

  "This doesn't mean you can run," Corbin jokes as he slips the socks over my feet, then works my foot into the shoe, which has scuff marks and a smudge of dried dirt along the toe.

  "Whose shoes are these?" I ask.

  "Kylie's. She's one of the nurses."

  "And she's okay with me borrowing her shoes?"

  "She said you could have them. She runs all the time and is always getting new shoes. She said she hasn't worn these in months. I'll get you new ones but for now, these will have to do."

  Both shoes are on now and feel good on my feet. They fit perfectly.

  "Tell her thanks," I say, checking out my new shoes.

  "All set?" the nurse asks as she goes behind my wheelchair.

  "Yeah. I'm ready."

  The three of us go to the elevator and take it down to the first floor. Corbin races ahead to get his car while the nurse wheels me to the exit. The moment we're outside I breathe in the fresh air, happy to no longer be breathing the hospital air which is stale and filled with whatever cleaners they use.

  A large black SUV pulls up beside me and parks. Corbin appears and opens the passenger door, then helps me inside. He's being so careful with me. It's sweet and caring, but again, I can't read anything into it. He's a doctor. He's trained to treat patients with care.

  As he goes around to the other side I notice my crutches in the back seat. I totally forgot about them. He must've packed them before coming to my room to get me.

  "New car?" I ask as he puts his seatbelt on.

  "It's a lease. Short term. Just until I figure out what I want."

  "Is your old car too damaged to drive?"

  "Actually, there wasn't much damage at all. I just don't want to drive it anymore."

  "What kind of car was it?"

  "Audi. It was a gift from my parents when I finished my residency."

  "So it's not that old. And it was a gift? You should keep it."

  "Driving it would just remind me what happened. Every day I'd be reliving the accident." He shakes his head. "I never want to see that car again." He wakes up the dashboard navigation system. "I need your address."

  I give it to him and he punches it in, then looks at me.

  "What?" I ask, confused why he's not driving.

  "Seatbelt."

  "Oh." I reach back and pull it over me, then click it in place. "Better?"

  He smiles, then turns his attention to the road and finally takes off.

  "So Dorchester, huh?" He glances at me as we wait at a stop light.

  "It wasn't my first choice but I needed a place to live and the rent was cheap."

  "The street you live on," he says, driving forward as the light turns green. "Not in the best neighborhood."

  "No, but I couldn't afford to be picky. It hasn't been bad so far."

  "How long have you lived there?"

  "A week. Not even that long if you take o
ut the days I spent at the hospital."

  "You have roommates?"

  "Two. A guy and his girlfriend. The guy's in a band. I don't know if he does anything besides that. I don't think he does because he's home all day either sleeping or banging on his drums. His girlfriend comes and goes throughout the day so I'm not really sure if she has a job."

  "So you basically know nothing about these people."

  "I don't have to. It's not like we're going to be friends. I'm just renting out a room. Once I get a job I'll never even be there, other than to sleep."

  "That guy can't be banging on his drums when you're trying to rest. Loud noises aren't good for your concussion."

  "I can't ask him to stop. It's his apartment. He can do what he wants."

  "Then I'll ask him. I'll explain that I'm your doctor and you need quiet in order to recover."

  "He's not going to care. He doesn't even know me."

  "If he's that loud he could be violating a noise ordinance. We'll file a complaint with the city."

  "Corbin, no. I don't want him mad at me. I have to live with the guy."

  "He doesn't have to know we reported him. We can do it anonymously."

  "I'd rather just let it go. I'll wear earplugs or cover my head with a pillow." I sneeze, then realize I didn't cover my face when I did it. "Sorry. I just got germs on your new car."

  "Don't worry about it. I'm surrounded by germs all day." He points to the glove compartment. "There's tissues in there."

  I open the compartment and find a mini package of tissues. I take it out and attempt to quietly blow my nose.

  "We should probably stop and get you more."

  "Thanks, but I'd really just like to get home." I lean my head against the seat. "I'm more tired than I thought I was."

  "How about I drop you off, then go get whatever you need? You can make a list, or I'll just figure it out."

  "I don't want you doing all that. You've done enough."

  "I'm not taking no for an answer. You need stuff and you don't have a car."

  "But you have to get back to work."

  "I took the rest of the day off."

  "You did?"

  "I'm really tired and I can't do my job well when I'm tired. I'm going to go home and try to sleep."