Room Mates_The Series

by Kendall Ryan

  “So, how’s it going with you and Paige?” Peter asked, scrubbing himself thoroughly up to the elbow.

  We’d been working different shifts, and I hadn’t seen him in days. Peter’s bright, easy smile instantly made me feel more at ease.

  I stepped up to the stainless steel sink beside him and turned on the warm water. “Do I seriously need to explain this to you, dude?”

  Peter motioned me with his hand, still damp with soap. “Please do. This ought to be amusing.”

  “When a man and woman like each other, sometimes they like to take off their pants and rub their private parts together.”

  Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re asking for trouble, man. She’s your sister’s BFF. I’m pretty sure there’s a rule against that.”

  I finished scrubbing my hands and dried them with a paper towel. “Whatever. She’s hot. And cool. And when we’re in bed . . . it’s fucking magic.”

  Peter pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really see a future with her?”

  My chest tightened as a foreign feeling washed over me. “Of course not.”

  He smiled at me knowingly. “Exactly. Then you need to stop fucking around with her. Let her move on and find her Mr. Right. You know even if they say they aren’t looking for something serious, they are always looking for something serious.”

  Even if I didn’t like Peter’s words, I recognized that he had a point. Paige did sign up for that dating app after all, even went out on a date. The guy was a total douche, but still. Clearly, she was looking for more than I could give her. Maybe I was in the way of her happiness.

  “Whatever, it’s over. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’re done. That was the last time.” I didn’t want to talk about Paige this morning; I wanted to focus on the surgery that was about to take place.

  Peter gave me a sly look that said yeah, right.

  Dr. Ramirez brushed past us with a breezy good morning. He was leading the surgery this morning, and I always appreciated his no-nonsense, down-to-business style.

  “Come on, let’s get to work.” I followed the doctor into the OR, my hands up and arms out in front of me, just like I’d been trained.

  • • •

  Four hours later, my entire world was turned upside down.

  Every time we stepped into the OR came with risk, of course. But I’d been so certain that David Hancock—Dave, as he told us to call him, Caucasian male, age fifty-five, married father of three, soon-to-be grandfather of one—would be going home. Of course he would. We were going to make him good as new. Better than new.

  One moment, things were going according to plan. In the next, it was utter chaos.

  I would never forget the deafening silence in the room after all the machines were turned off and the tubes removed. I wouldn’t forget the way Dr. Ramirez looked at me and said, “Get some lunch. It’s been a long day.” As if I could have stomached anything just then.

  Instead I’d stumbled, wide-eyed and shocked, into the on-call room and called Paige. I’d intended to send her a text, but my hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t type. She must have heard it in my voice, because when I asked her to come to the hospital, she agreed without question. Thankfully there was no else in the room that contained a set of bunk beds, and I collapsed into the lower one.

  Sometimes patients died, and I knew that as a doctor, I would have to live with that fact. I’d been trained in medical school to dehumanize the person I was treating and look only at the condition. I also knew from my training that there was never much time to grieve; there were many more patients who were also unwell and needed a sound-minded physician at the helm.

  But in this moment, none of that mattered. I didn’t care about my training, or the other patients who might need me. I could only think of the paralyzing stillness in that room, and if there was something different we could have done.

  Fifteen minutes later, Paige texted me that she was here. I met her in the hall and guided her back to the on-call room, where I pulled her onto the bed with me. It was still warm when we lay down.

  “Cannon? Are you okay?”

  I closed my eyes and felt her fingertips brushing through my hair.

  Locked in Paige’s arms, I let out the breath I felt like I’d been holding since our patient took his last. If I thought it was hard to watch a patient pass over, nothing could have prepared me for when Dr. Ramirez and I brought his wife and daughter into the conference room and told them that Dave had suffered a stroke on the table and stopped breathing. Their agony gutted me, and the bloodcurdling screams from his wife as she collapsed to the floor were heart wrenching.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I murmured.

  “Did something happen?” Her voice was soft and timid, as if she knew the answer already.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking. “We lost a patient today.” Even saying it out loud was difficult.

  Paige was quiet for a long time. Then she shifted in my arms, and I felt her breath on my neck. “Of course you can,” she whispered. “You’ll come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. You’ll save many, many more lives than you’ll ever lose. You’re a great man, Cannon Roth. The world needs more men like you.”

  It reminded me of what Dr. Ramirez had said as I left the OR.

  “What do we do now?” I’d asked him.

  “Go home. Tomorrow, we’ll come back as better doctors.”

  I exhaled and tightened my hold around Paige. Maybe she was right; maybe I could come back tomorrow and try again. But for now, having her here, warm and solid in my arms, was the only thing my fragmented brain could focus on. It was enough.

  Hell, it was everything.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Paige

  Watching Cannon suffer today had been agony. Watching him lie on the narrow bed, his body clutching at mine like I was the only thing that could ease the pain, it did something to me.

  I’d stroked his hair and murmured encouraging things, but I had no idea if it helped. He wasn’t afraid to make himself vulnerable, wasn’t afraid to admit that he needed me. It was everything. But then an hour later, his pager had gone off and he rushed out to attend to a patient, saying he’d see me at home. He left without even a backward glance.

  I couldn’t imagine a job like his. I worked in an office where the worst thing that happened in my day was if the printer ran out of toner. He’d watched a man die today, and worse than that, he felt responsible. He had blood on his hands, literally. I didn’t know what would happen next, didn’t know how you bounced back from something like that. I knew over the course of Cannon’s career, of course he would face death. But your first? Maybe it changed you for good. Maybe he’d never be quite the man he was before. I wasn’t sure, and it scared me.

  Checking the clock on the stove again, I wondered what time he’d be home from work. Surely the trauma he’d experienced today allowed him a pass to skip out early. Though if I knew Cannon, he wouldn’t take advantage like that. Hard work and loyalty ran through his veins. After stirring the pot of homemade chicken noodle soup for a final time, I set the ladle on a saucer and poured two short glasses of whiskey.

  I had no idea what might happen between us tonight, and part of me was hoping for something deeper than just sex. As great as that was between us, I craved more of a connection. I’d never taken into account how difficult it would be to have a secret relationship and not be able to tell my best friend about it. I needed advice, needed someone to talk to, to vent to, but there was no way Allie could be that person.

  The empty, hollow feeling taking up residence in my chest was foreign. I’d lived so many years alone and had been just fine. So to have someone here, and not just someone, but Cannon, who was big and masculine and smart and sexy and tempting? It was slightly maddening.

  The front door opened with a click, and Enchilada went running toward it.

  “Hey,” Cannon offered when I stepped into the living room. He shrugged off his laptop
bag and removed his shoes. His expression was neutral, and anyone else would never guess the traumatic day he’d just lived through.

  “Hi.” I handed him one of the glasses of whiskey. “I thought you could use one of these.”

  His mouth lifted in a slight smile and he accepted the glass, clinking it against mine. “Thank you. Fuck yes, I could.”

  He took a small sip as I watched him, checking for any lingering signs of trauma. His throat moved as he swallowed one small sip, then another. Outwardly, he didn’t look as if he’d fallen apart today. He was as tall and commanding as ever. Gorgeous and perfect.

  I took a sip of my own, letting the liquor warm a path in my chest, then said, “I made chicken noodle soup. My grandma’s recipe.”

  He smiled warmly at me. “Thank you.”

  There was a reason it was called comfort food. I hoped it lived up to the name tonight and put Cannon’s mind at ease.

  “It’s just about ready,” I said, leading the way toward the kitchen.

  “I’m going to take a shower first. Is that okay?”

  “Of course. I’ll just heat up a loaf of bread in the oven. Take your time.”

  I knew I shouldn’t have turned and watched Cannon’s tight ass flex as he moved down the hall, but damn, it was becoming increasingly difficult to live with a man I was so attracted to.

  After he showered, we sat down at the table and ate. When I asked Cannon if he wanted to talk about today, he shook his head. So I bored him with stories of my work, and showed him pictures of Enchilada on my phone. After that, things fell back into our normal, easy rhythm. We did the dishes, watched TV, and then went our separate ways for bed. Despair bloomed in my chest as I crawled into bed alone.

  The need to comfort Cannon, to be near him, to make sure he was okay was unbearable. But I wouldn’t go to him, not tonight. Not unless he made it clear that he needed me. The last time I’d crept into his room, he’d given me what I came seeking, the hot sex I craved, but he’d also warned me that we shouldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t be that girl—the kind who had no self-control, no self-worth, someone who would drop her principles at the door and open her legs. No, thank you. I had to be able to live with myself when this was done.

  Movement in my doorway momentarily startled me.

  “Hey,” Cannon said, stopping in the door frame.

  “Is everything okay?” I sat up in bed, studying him in his gray sleep shorts that hung invitingly low on his hips.

  “Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking unsure like I’d never seen him before. “You okay with some company?”

  And because I couldn’t say no to one of Cannon’s requests, even if I wanted to, I nodded. It was the first sign that maybe we weren’t yet done, despite what he’d said.

  Soon we were spooned together under the blankets.

  “Thanks for today, Paige,” he said, his voice low and sleepy.

  “Of course.” I didn’t do much other than sneak out of work early to comfort a friend, but I was glad it had helped in some small way.

  “It’s crazy, but today opened my eyes to what I want to do, what I’ve always been interested in but didn’t trust myself.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I want to be a cardiologist. I know it’s competitive; I know it’s going to be tough. I know over the course of my career, I’ll have days like today that will make me wonder why I chose this at all, but something you said today really stuck with me.”

  “What did I say?”

  “That I’d save many more lives than I would lose.”

  “It’s true, you know,” I whispered back.

  “I know,” he said, placing a tender kiss against my forehead.

  He tugged me close so that I was nuzzled against his bare chest, smelling his intoxicating scent—bodywash and Cannon. He was opening up to me, in more ways than one, and I liked being there for him when he needed me.

  Cannon whispered good night and tightened his grip around me once more.

  I knew this couldn’t last. Playing pretend with my best friend’s little brother was one thing, but actually having a real relationship with him was quite another. But I also knew that I didn’t want to pretend anymore.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Paige

  The phone call that came in the middle of the night startled us both. I knew by now that Cannon slept with his cell next to the bed, and since he used it as his alarm clock, the volume was kept turned up.

  When I woke up, he was yelling something into the phone.

  “No. Fuck no!” he roared before punching one fist into the mattress. “Just breathe. I’ll be right over.”

  “Cannon?” I sat up in bed, my heart pounding a million beats a minute. “Who was that?”

  “My mom,” he croaked, his voice still hoarse with sleep. “My stepdad’s dead.”

  • • •

  Bob’s death sent a shock wave through the family. As expected, Cannon’s mom was nearly inconsolable, but he and Allie weren’t faring much better. In the years that their mom had been married to him, Bob had been her rock. He’d taken care of everything for Susanne, providing her with a nice home, a comfortable life, and most of all, love and stability. Now all of that had been ripped away, it wasn’t easy watching Cannon and Allie have to face their mother’s new reality.

  Bob was Jewish, so after the formal funeral proceedings at the synagogue, we were now back at the house to sit shivah, which meant the mirrors in the house were covered and the lights were kept low, with candles burning instead. Bob’s sister had come over to instruct Susanne since none of the Roth side of the family were Jewish, and they didn’t know the correct procedures.

  I was sitting at the kitchen island sipping a bottle of beer. I didn’t even like beer, but Allie and I were hiding in the kitchen, and that was all that was available. Finger foods and a couple of bottles of wine were set out in the living room, but I didn’t want to abandon Allie, and I definitely didn’t want to get into another long conversation with one of Bob’s relatives.

  Bob had had a massive heart attack in his sleep. Although he’d always been a snorer, Susanne had noticed he was unusually silent that night. And rather than revel in the silence and get a good night’s sleep, she said she immediately knew something was wrong. It was just after midnight when she discovered her husband wasn’t breathing. She’d called 911, and then while she waited for the ambulance to arrive, she’d called her son who was soon to be a doctor. He’d rushed right over.

  After taking another long swig from my bottle, I gave Allie’s shoulder an encouraging pat. “It’ll be okay, somehow, Allie. It has to, right?”

  She sniffed and gave me a slight nod. “Yeah. It will. I’m just worried about Cannon.”

  Cannon? What did he have to do with any of this?

  “What do you mean?” I expected that she’d be worried about her mom. Or that she’d feel awful about Bob.

  Allie pushed a chunk of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. “Cannon has been taking care of our mom since he was a little boy. But when she met Bob and got married, Cannon could finally just be Cannon—a normal college kid, focusing on his own goals and aspirations.”

  I frowned, knowing that was never actually true. I was fairly certain that Cannon’s master plan in life was always to take care of his mom, regardless of whether Bob was in the picture or not. It was one of the reasons he chose a career path that would set him up financially to be able to help; it was just who he was. But I wasn’t about to argue with Allie. Their entire family had been through enough these past forty-eight hours.

  Cannon chose that exact moment to enter the kitchen. He looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his expression was etched into a scowl. Yet he still managed to look rugged and masculine and beautiful.

  Ever since he’d left my bed in the middle of the night, he’d been staying here at his mom and Bob’s house. Well, I supposed now it was just his mom’s house. Part of me couldn’t help but
wonder if he’d decide to move in here with her now. It was a forty-five-minute drive to the hospital, instead of the ten-minute drive from my place, but I knew that if she needed him, Cannon wouldn’t hesitate. He’d pack his bags and wish me well, and that would be the end of my days with my roommate and the forbidden tryst we’d shared. It would kill me if he left, and I wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

  I was curious about how he was holding up, and though I’d seen him during the events of the last couple of days, I hadn’t spent any time alone with him, hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to him. I didn’t know how he was doing or what he might be thinking.

  “Have a beer with us, Cannon,” Allie said, patting the bar stool next to hers.

  Cannon grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, and twisted off the cap before sinking down onto the stool.

  We sat in silence for a few moments, each of us nursing our beverages and unsure what to say to fill the void. Life could change in an instant, and that harsh reality was sinking in hard for all of us.

  Susanne poked her head into the kitchen. Her face was puffy and her eyes swollen, but for now at least, there were no tears. She was holding it together for the time being.

  “Hey, guys, can I get some help with Bob’s uncle Fritz? His car’s stuck on the front lawn.”

  My eyebrows jumped. I’d met Uncle Fritz earlier. He was ninety-seven, and I was pretty sure he had no business driving.

  Cannon rose from his seat but Allie patted his shoulder, forcing him back down. “Sit. Have a drink. I’ve got this.”

  I gave Allie a sympathetic smile and watched her follow her mom from the kitchen. I glanced over toward Cannon, searching for something to say. Without Allie sitting between us, we suddenly felt too close, too exposed. Like someone was going to walk in and take one look at us and know we’d been sleeping together these past few weeks. That was how real and palpable our connection felt. One look and someone would read every intense feeling, every secret desire I harbored for this man.