by Aiden Bates
"I can see that. Those kids have their own room at your house." Riley chuckled. "They do love you."
"I've known them since day one." Carter knew that his smile held a hint of sadness. He didn't care. "They're fun kids. I don't mind having them over, and every parent deserves a break. Especially stay-at-home omegas like Paul. He deserves to get out among the grownups a little, don't you think?"
"You ever think about having your own?" Riley glanced over at the window that belonged to the kids' room.
Carter narrowed his eyes. "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"
Riley raised his hands. "Maybe, I don't know. I'm sorry. I was just curious. I mean you are pretty good with them."
Carter pushed back against the pang in his heart. "I've always been pretty focused on my career. I might not have any kids of my own, but there are plenty of kids all over this city who wouldn't be here if it weren't for me. I'm content with that. Plus, you know, I'm saving on child care expenses, so there's that."
Riley lifted his bottle in a kind of salute. "I never spent much time around kids, myself. I was an only child, no cousins or anything. Never really acquired a taste. Now my parents are making noises about grandchildren and it's kind of like, where is this coming from?" He shook his head. "Anyway. Yesterday was an illuminating day."
"What, following me around the department?" Carter snorted. "You didn't even see us on a busy day."
"Yeah. That one nurse, Ms. Molta, was more than happy to let me know that. At length." Riley grimaced and rubbed at his neck. "Is she armed, by the way?"
"No. No, we try to keep her away from the sharp objects until she's had at least two cups of coffee too." Carter looked out over the Valley. "She's a pistol, that's for sure. Anyway, you didn't see us on a day when we were full to capacity. And you didn't see us when we had any unforeseen complications. Even the unscheduled presentations went the way we expected to, so we were able to handle them."
Riley's large hand wrapped around his beer bottle again. Carter tried not to think about those hands, or how they'd felt on him when they'd been golfing. "So the father passing out on the floor, that happens a lot?"
"At least once per day. Not all fathers do it, but one new father is going to do it every day." Carter couldn't look away as his guest put his bottle to his lips. What would those lips feel like on his?
"Wow. Okay. So I think that I have a better idea of what a typical day is like. Here's my problem. I'm the CEO of the hospital, but I do report to other people. They have certain results that they want to see." Riley met Carter's eyes.
"They want to see Silver Oak turn a profit." Carter shrugged. "I mean healthcare isn't exactly profitable, as a general rule. Not quality healthcare, anyway, and not in a community like this one. Maybe you can find a way to turn a profit in the Hamptons or something, but Syracuse has the highest concentration of poverty for Black and Hispanic people in the country. We've got rural communities in our service area that make anything in Appalachia or in the Deep South look tame by comparison. We've got some wealth, too, but we're going to have to abide by Medicare reimbursement rates and whatever insurance people have.
"And, in our department, we're going to face complications more often. People in poverty are less likely to receive prenatal care. That's just facts. So we're more likely to see a case where the mother shows up with gestational diabetes and high blood pressure and needs an emergency C-section, or an omega who shows up ready to give birth and has never seen a doctor in his life."
"I saw that. I did." Riley reached out toward Carter for a second, then he pulled back. "I don't know if I made this clear enough, but I was impressed by how calm everyone was. You really had seen it all before. When that guy showed up, with twins, and had never seen a doctor before, I thought for sure that was going to be the end of it."
"It came close." Carter leaned toward Riley without meaning to. "But yeah, we've seen it before and we knew what to do."
Riley cleared his throat. "So I recognize that we're depending on those reimbursements, as well as on grants. I've got development working to get more grants, but the one thing that's really in our control is costs. We've seen that cutting nursing hours has a negative effect."
Carter stared at those lips again before he shook himself out of it. "Look. I'm not the chair of our department. I'm just the mouthy one."
"I've noticed." Riley raised an eyebrow.
"Good." Carter met his eyes without hesitation this time. "I'd hate to think I've been screaming into the void all this time. I'm not our department chair, and I haven't looked at the contract with the nurses. They do talk to me. I don't know if this is something that would fly with the union or with your imperial overlords back in Cleveland, but maybe you could keep the staffing levels the way they are but allow for overtime when patient care requires it. That way we don't wind up having to turn patients away for silly reasons, and we can maybe reduce some of the cost for the department."
Riley smiled, just a little bit. "Why is it that we can't come to that kind of agreement when we're sitting in the hospital?"
"Because I'm usually fighting with you about patient care while covered in patient blood?" Carter sipped from his beer. He needed something to kill the dryness in his mouth. "Look. The fact is that we're always going to be at loggerheads. My job is to fight for my patients, whether I'm fighting with Medicare, with hospital administration, or with Death Himself. Your job is to try to keep the hospital afloat, and keep a rein on finances. Those two goals are always going to be mutually incompatible."
"I don't think that they have to be." Riley drained his beer. "So tell me. How many proposals have you gotten in the mail because of that shirtless photo in the paper?"
Carter laughed out loud and got them fresh beers. He wasn't sure what had caused this fresh detente, but he was going to enjoy it while it lasted.
***
Finn's nickname in his college fraternity had been The Ice Man. His roommate sophomore year had joked about storing vodka in Finn's bed, because he was so cold he could chill the booze for them. He suspected that the nickname hadn't been meant kindly, but he wore it with pride. After all, while those guys had all been out running around looking for girls and getting their heads all turned around, Finn had been building his future.
Now Finn was the CEO of the best hospital in central New York. He was the youngest chief executive in the Regent network, and his career wasn't over yet. He could still climb higher. He saw himself running one of the giant institutions in a big city like New York or LA, one of the places that did as much research as they did day-to-day care. Maybe he'd go back into insurance after that, and run one of the big health networks. Maybe he would head back to Cleveland and take over for Bill, become the CEO for Regent as a whole.
The money would be more than he could imagine, and Finn could imagine an awful lot of money.
Spouses didn't figure into the equation at all. Oh, Finn had sex. Finn was a healthy, red-blooded man, and he had needs. He just attended to those needs the same way that he attended to his other needs—sensibly, and without a lot of hand wringing. He could satisfy his sexual urges with anonymous guys he picked up in a club; he didn't need to find out their names, never mind go knitting himself to them forever.
He supposed that he could accept that other people wanted that, the companionship or whatever. He'd just never felt pulled in that direction himself, and he had plenty of disincentive to turn his head in that direction. A regular romantic partner, whether omega or not, would expect time and attention that would be better spent on work. An omega carried the risk of pregnancy. If that omega got pregnant, he would want him to be involved with children. Finn didn't even like children.
Anonymous sex would be perfectly adequate for Finn's needs, and always had been. So why did his thoughts keep drifting back toward the pernicious Dr. Idoni?
When he'd tested as an alpha, his uncle Lochlann had come all the way over from Ireland to sit down and explain some things to him
. Lochlann was an alpha, and of course things were different for alphas and omegas in a religious country like Ireland in those days but he had plenty of advice for his young nephew.
"Finn," he said, "I know it doesn't seem like it now, because you're just ten and you haven't started to think about these things yet. Someday, you're going to find yourself drawn to a man. It will come to you like a bolt of lightning, or a stampeding herd of cattle. Don't let him get away, son. Catch him, claim him, and your life will be sublime."
Finn had needed to look up sublime. He'd spoken to his father about the rest of Lochlann's words, and his father'd just sneered. "Don't listen to him, boy. He might be an alpha, but he's also a poet. A poet! Do you know how much a poet makes? Nothing, that's how much. Don't go putting your faith in the words of a man who can't put food on his table."
Dad's words made more sense to Finn at the time than Lochlann's. Now, as he sat in his office and remembered what Idoni had looked like surrounded by children and wearing nothing but an old black tee shirt, he wondered if the old poet hadn't been onto something.
He looked up Uncle Lochlann's work. Apparently Lochlann wasn't just some poet. He'd written several award-winning volumes of poetry and held a high position at Trinity College. Huh. He probably still hadn't earned anything on the scale of Finn's father, but he seemed to have built up some fame for himself.
Lochlann would tell him that he should take Idoni without hesitation. That had sounded creepy to Finn when he'd been ten, and it sounded creepy to Finn now. There was a dark undercurrent to that kind of thinking. Lochlann hadn't mentioned the omega's feelings on the subject. Finn hadn't known enough at the time to ask. Now it was moot, of course. Finn didn't have time in his life to start a family and all of the passion involved just sounded untidy, but he was positive that Dr. Idoni's consent should come into it somewhere.
Maybe he shouldn't even briefly think about getting involved with someone if he couldn't think of him by his first name.
Maybe, if he didn't think of Dr. Idoni by his first name, he could stop thinking about him as anything but a colleague.
He tried to avoid Idoni for the next week. He lasted until Tuesday, when he saw the overtime reports for Obstetrics and headed down to Idoni's office to remind him of their agreement. "I expected better from you than to have you running roughshod over our agreement the very same weekend that we decided on it!" he seethed, leaning over Idoni's desk and into his personal space.
Idoni favored him with a bored glance. "Are you done? Because you hadn't announced the new policy, and I'm not in charge of this department. Give me that piece of paper and I'll set your little mind at ease, there, Riley."
"You could try being respectful." Finn passed him the report.
Idoni snorted. "You could try earning it. Look here. Yes, these are Obstetrics employees. That's not an Obstetrics cost center. That money came out of Emergency. There was an accident, two pregnant women on their way to a baby shower got t-boned by a drunk driver."
Finn growled. He'd been in the wrong, to some extent. He'd definitely flown off the handle. He couldn't just give in, though. That would make it too easy. "So why was Obstetrics still fully staffed?"
"You could either go down and bug someone in the ER who has time for your crap, or I could make something up." Idoni groped for his coffee cup.
Finn recognized the gesture and put the travel mug into his hand. "Why don't you give it your best guess?"
"My guess would be that the ER called the obstetrics staff when they realized that there was a problem." He gulped from his cup. "Thanks for that. Last night was a challenge."
"Why?" Finn half-sat on the end of Idoni's desk.
Idoni waved a hand. "Triplets, and a more complicated birth than I usually like to see. And, you know, triplets." He shuddered. "I sure didn't miss out, you know?" He flinched, as though he was just now remembering who he was speaking to. "Anyway. I haven't gone home yet. Reminds me of my residency."
"You should go home. You don't want to hurt someone because you were too tired to know what you were cutting into." Finn scowled. He wasn't so much worried about Idoni hurting a patient. He knew that Idoni would probably cut off his own hand before he'd do something to endanger someone like that. The truth was, he just wanted Idoni to take care of himself.
That wasn't like Finn at all. Idoni was an adult. He could make his own choices.
"I'm good. I will go home, just as soon as Huntington gets here. We need to have someone on hand who can operate in an emergency." Idoni looked up at him again, through those chestnut brown eyes, and Finn thought his heart might melt. "Look, the guy you want to talk to in the ER is Rick Wade. He's a good guy, knows his emergency medicine, and he knows when he's in over his head and needs to call for backup. He's a boxer, so I'd put a leash on that temper."
Finn nodded. "Thank you." He hung his head for a second. "I shouldn't have blown up at you. I apologize."
Idoni grinned. Finn loved that look. He loved the way that Idoni's eyes crinkled at the corners when his smile was genuine. "Don't even worry about it this time. I'm sure I'll make up for it by blowing up at you next time."
"It's a deal." Finn waved and headed down to Emergency.
He thought about getting a blood test while he was down there. Something about Idoni's smile made him weak at the knees, and that wasn't normal. He must have caught an infection or something. That was the only rational explanation.
Idoni's promise of returning the explosion came about on Friday, just as Finn was getting ready to leave. Marcia had already left for the day, which was probably why Idoni chose now to attack. He came storming into Finn's office and slammed his fist onto the desk.
"You fired half of the billing department!" he shouted.
Finn sat down. His heart sped up as the scent of wood smoke wound its way around his brain, but he couldn't show it. Idoni had barged in here and started slamming things—well, okay, his fist—around like he owned the place. Like he thought he had some kind of privilege, just because Finn had showed up at his house and drunk his beer.
"I have tolerated an awful lot from you," Finn told the doctor, in his coldest tone. His fraternity brothers would have been proud of the Iceman for that one. "I've appreciated the fact that you care for your patients, and that your patients are your highest priority. That is the only reason that I have been as accepting of your behavior as I have been.
"My decisions regarding administrative departments are not up for debate. Hospital administration has no bearing on patient care. It has no bearing on Obstetrics, no bearing on omega medicine, and no bearing on your life except for how much trouble it will be to separate you from this institution when you've outlived your usefulness. Do I make myself clear?"
"You honestly don't think that the billing department has anything to do with patient care? How do you think we pay for it?" Idoni flung the stack of papers he'd been carrying into the air. "We don't get reimbursed, by insurance or by Medicaid, until billing gets done with their job! And angry patients aren't calling your office demanding to know why their insurance companies are hassling them. No, they're calling me, and my office."
"I know damn well how we get paid, Idoni. I don't tell you how to deliver babies, don't you come in here and tell me how to run a hospital." He waved a finger in Idoni's face. "You think that because we've shared a couple of moments we have some kind of relationship? I will do my best by this institution without reference to you or to anyone else."
"You'll do your best by the bottom line and to hell with the human lives behind it, is what you mean." Idoni's lip curled. "You know, that one time, when you helped with that poor dead woman's delivery, I thought you might actually have a soul. It was obviously surgically removed and replaced with whatever radioactive ooze is under that Superfund subdivision you crawled out of in New Jersey. Every one of those people you fired is a living human being. They have bills to pay and mouths to feed at home."
"Then they will knuckle down and get other
jobs. We're not a charity, Idoni. I'm not here to hand out free money. We don't need all of those people in billing! I have to make up budget shortfalls somehow, and if it can't come from caregiver staff it's going to have to come from somewhere." Finn stood up. He wasn't sure which hurt more, the fact that Idoni had thought he might have a soul and revised his opinion or the fact that Idoni wasn't capable of understanding what was truly important here.
The fact Idoni's good opinion bothered him at all didn't bear contemplating. He knew he didn't want to see what he found out.
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Why does it surprise you that my focus is on the bottom line? I told you where I was coming from. I told you what my intentions were. And yet you come in here thinking that screaming and yelling about New Jersey is going to somehow change my mind?"
"Nothing's going to change your mind." Idoni waved a hand. "You don't think about humans, you don't care about people, why would you go into healthcare in the first place?"
"Money. Job security. Money," he said again. "I don't pretend to be anything other than what I am." He closed his eyes and leaned onto his desk. "Look. I think I know what's going on here."
