An older gentleman stepped into the room, carrying two bottles of water. “They said no frozen margaritas in the ER, Dot.”
“You tried bringing frozen margaritas into a hospital?” Eli said as he stared at the visitor.
“Of course not,” he replied with such exaggerated vowels that Amara didn’t know if he was kidding.
“This is Richard. My fiancé.” Dot grinned as she gestured to her cast. “We’re getting married in three weeks, and I’m going to have a purple cast.”
“I’ll just wear a purple tie to match.” Richard laughed. “Does this mean we aren’t skydiving on the honeymoon?”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Amara laughed as Dot and Eli answered at the same time. Then realization struck her. She wasn’t risking anything either.
She wanted to scream as a chill raced down her back. She was letting fear rule her. Worrying that if she loved anyone too much, she’d get hurt, just like her mother. But fear hadn’t gotten her anything either.
“We’ll just have to find other ways to occupy our time.” Dot laughed as Eli’s face heated again. “Nice work, Doc.” The woman twisted her wrist, admiring her cast. “It makes a real statement.”
Amara stared at Eli. What if she let go of fear? Her heart wanted Eli, but what if... She shook her head. She’d lived a life of what-ifs, and she was still alone.
As Eli explained cast care to Dot, Amara slipped from the room and tried to gather her thoughts. Unfortunately, they were all over the place.
“Amara?” She turned as Eli spoke from behind her.
“Amara, Eli.” Susan stated as she stepped between them.
Amara was grateful for the interruption and made sure to keep her gaze focused on Susan. But she could feel Eli’s eyes on her.
“I wanted to let you know that you’re partners for the health fair.” Susan looked at Amara quickly before addressing Eli. “As last year’s winner, you have the first pick of the booths, Dr. Collins.”
“You won last year?”
Eli’s eyes studied her, but he let the change of conversation happen. “I’ve won the last five years. And I’ll win this year too. We’ll win—I mean.”
It took all her control not to sigh at the intensity in his eyes. “Seriously, Eli? It’s only a community health fair.”
“That helps Boston Gen. as well as the community. It makes people think of us. Community involvement should help us if we can figure out how to get on the survey for the national rankings. This year I’m even trying to get the press to show up. Our booth needs to be spectacular.”
The national rankings...
Amara did sigh then. What was so important about a magazine that most people never read? She knew the list hit the major news sites, but it was splashed across the front page for only a few hours before dropping into the void of the internet for another year.
The nerve at the base of Eli’s jaw twitched, and Amara took his hand. Under the sheen of self-assuredness, Eli doubted himself.
He was a remarkable doctor at a respected hospital—no matter what any piece of paper said. She squeezed his hand before dropping it quickly as she remembered herself. They were at work and not together, she reminded herself.
“Whatever we do will be great. I’m sure.”
Eli nodded and looked across at Dot’s room. “What happened in there? You suddenly looked...”
Another nurse passed Amara a chart, and she looked it over rather than meet Eli’s gaze. “Just a busy night, Eli. I’m fine.”
“Not sure I believe that. I’m here if you want to talk.” He blew out a breath.
Her mind flashed to the long conversations they used to share. And to the intimacy that had so often followed when their talking turned to touches and kisses. Her body heated, and she bit her lip. She needed to focus. Gripping the file, she offered him a polite smile. “I need to see to the patient in room 6. Thanks for the tea, Eli.”
* * *
Glancing at the chart again, Amara frowned. The admitting nurse had only written low-grade fever. The patient had been sitting in the waiting room for a good part of the day. Most people would have gone home to wait out the infection, but Amara had treated many nonemergency issues during her years in the ER. Some people just worried.
As she walked into room 6, Amara nodded to the man sitting in the bed and he lowered his novel. He wore a paper mask over his face, and exhaustion coated his eyes. A bag of books and puzzle magazines sat on the end of the bed. He’d come prepared for a long wait.
“Good evening, Mr. Dyer. I’m Amara.”
“Please call me Seth.” His voice was hoarse. “Sorry for not shaking your hand, but my immune system is still compromised. Germs and chemo don’t mix, I guess.”
Amara almost lost her grip on the paper in front of her. “You’re a cancer patient?”
Seth nodded. “Leukemia. Finished my second round of chemo last month.”
She felt her stomach drop. Cancer had changed everything in Amara’s life. Her grandmother had died when she was five, and her mother had lost her own battle with the disease three years ago. Neither woman had lived to see their fifty-fifth birthday. Then Amara lost part of herself in a quest to keep the dreaded disease from claiming her too.
When her mother’s oncologist recommended Amara take the genetic test due to her grandmother’s and mother’s early-life diagnoses, she’d done it. And it had confirmed her fears. Amara’s genes carried the BRCA1 marker, raising her risk for breast cancer to over 70 percent.
Amara had scheduled a preventative mastectomy the week after she’d received her results. But she’d been surprised how much she’d mourned the loss of her breasts. She was a nurse. She understood her risks, what the procedure entailed. Amara thought she’d prepared herself enough.
It had been a shock to realize that part of her was really gone forever. It was the right choice—she was certain of that. But it had taken Amara months to be able to fully examine her own scars. She still kept her eyes away from the mirror when she toweled off after a shower.
Joe hadn’t touched her chest after the procedure, not even once. Everyone Amara had dated after looked at her differently when they found out. Then they stopped calling or texting. At least she knew why she was being ghosted. But that only encouraged the fear that never seemed to stop worming its way through her.
“You sat in the emergency room waiting area all day?” Amara wanted to scream at the admitting officials. Boston Gen. saw more trauma than most area hospitals, but a fever wasn’t just a minor thing when you had a compromised immune system. He should have been back here hours ago and either treated and released or admitted.
“A car accident arrived right before I did. The triage nurse was understandably busy. I wore my mask and isolated myself.”
She’d seen other patients like this. People who didn’t want to burden others with their condition and didn’t want to admit they’d slipped from healthy to sick.
Rather than give Seth a lecture, she plastered on a smile. “Who’s your oncologist, Seth?”
He fidgeted with the edge of his book. “My wife, kids and I are here from Florida visiting her parents. My oncologist, Dr. Peppertree, cleared the travel. But I think maybe I overdid it.” Seth closed his eyes. “Still not used to treating my body with kid gloves.”
She heard the frustration in his voice. Her mother had hated taking it easy too. She’d fought for every normal moment she could get.
Grabbing a thermometer, Amara ran it over Seth’s forehead and behind his ear. His fever had risen, but only slightly. “You still have a fever. How are you feeling otherwise? I need all the symptoms, no matter how minor you think they might be.”
“Tired, but I’m always tired. My throat is sore. Other than that, I just feel weak, like I have for the last six months. My boys are six and eleven. I used to pla
y outside with them all the time. They walked the Freedom Trail today. My wife sent pictures, but...” Seth’s voice cracked. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Grief warred within Amara, but Seth wasn’t her mother. His cancer had a high survivability rate. If she let her emotions control her, she wouldn’t be able to do her job. “Can you please write down the number for your oncologist? I am going to get a doctor and see if we can expedite your stay.” She handed him a pen and a pad of paper.
Amara hustled down the hall and collided with Eli. His fingers gripped her shoulders for just a moment too long. The connection between them had always been electric, but now it burned. “I need you to see my patient in room 6,” she told him.
“Can’t. Four kids got into a knife fight on Salem Avenue. Multiple victims are arriving in the bay. You’re with me,” Eli stated as he moved down the hall.
“Eli!” Amara held her ground. “Seth’s a cancer patient from out of town. He’s got a fever, and he’s been sitting in our waiting room all day!”
Eli shook his head, and she thought she heard a curse slip from his lips. “We need to focus on the critical patient.”
“I know, but...” Amara looked at the closed door where Seth had waited nearly all day to be seen.
Eli’s eyes softened. His voice was low as he stared at her. “You know how triage works. I’ve got to see the kid that might bleed out now.”
He was right, but that didn’t stop Amara’s feelings of failure as she followed him down the hall. Seth wasn’t her mother—he wasn’t. As soon as this crisis was over, she’d make sure he was taken care of. That was all she could do.
* * *
Seth had strep throat. Amara had delivered the lab work herself and then promptly taken off. Eli couldn’t blame her. Today’s shift had been terrible. They’d lost two of the stab wound patients. But Amara’s reaction to the cancer patient had surprised Eli—something else was going on there, but he didn’t know what.
Glancing at the clock, he sighed. They’d been off duty for twenty minutes. Eli had stayed to deliver the bad news to Seth that he’d have to be admitted until his infection cleared. Amara had already gone home. He needed to do the same.
As the elevator doors opened to the parking garage, Eli paused. Amara’s car was still parked two cars away from his. He’d noticed where she’d parked ever since she’d given him a lift that first day. Eli wanted to pretend that the lot wasn’t that big, so it was easy to notice her car. But it was a lie. He’d worked with Susan since his residency ended and couldn’t pick out her vehicle. It was just Amara.
A soft sob echoed from her car as Eli passed by. If you worked in the ER, you left exhausted, tired and sad more days than most wanted to admit. No one should cry alone in a parking garage.
Eli stepped beside the passenger door and knocked. “Want some company?” Amara shrugged but didn’t order him away. Climbing into the car, he reached for her hand. At least she wasn’t alone now.
“Today sucked,” Eli stated.
“Two young men lost to senseless violence and a cancer patient that had to be admitted. I think sucked is an understatement,” Amara countered. “Sometimes, life is just unfair.”
“Dot was a hoot though, wasn’t she?” Eli murmured as he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “A patient who genuinely makes you laugh is a treasure. And we saved two of the stabbing victims. That’s not nothing.”
She leaned her head against his, and Eli’s soul sang as the soft scent of raspberry shampoo hit his senses. It was weird how the little things about her were still the same.
Amara turned slightly and her eyes met his. Then she closed the distance between their lips. The kiss was light, but it sent a thrill through him as her hands rested on his cheek. It was over far too soon, and Amara eyes were wide and panicked as she leaned away. There had never been anyone else who made him feel the way she did. And once you’d found a person that made you feel whole, it was hard to accept less.
“Sorry, Eli. I—”
Running a finger along her cheek, Eli interrupted. “Please don’t apologize. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment you walked into the ER.”
A sigh escaped her lips. “It seems wrong to kiss after such a terrible day.” Amara smiled, but he could see the uncertainty that enveloped her.
Eli knew what she meant, but he would never be sorry for that kiss. For any kiss with Amara. “Life is too short not to reach for every good opportunity. Working in an ER, we know that better than most.”
“Life is so short.” Amara’s voice was tight.
There was more to that statement than a bad night on the job, but the parking garage at Boston Gen. wasn’t the ideal place to explore it. “I need to get home.” Eli squeezed her hand. “Come with me. I have a bad frozen lasagna that I don’t mind sharing.”
Hesitation hovered in her dark eyes, and Eli told her, “We can swing by your place if you need to feed your cat.” He didn’t want her to say no.
“I don’t have a cat.” Amara wiped a final tear from her cheek. “Nothing is waiting for me at home—not even a wilted bag of salad or a bad frozen meal. But I’m tired, and I should go home.”
Why was she making up a cat when talking to patients?
That was something he was going to find out too.
“Well, I don’t know that my well-stocked fridge is my finest asset, but how about we do lunch at my place tomorrow. We can discuss the health fair.”
And he could find out exactly what had happened today.
A bit of color flooded her cheeks. What was she thinking? He didn’t want her to turn down the offer, and they did need to go over their health care booth. Even if it wasn’t his top priority.
“Okay,” Amara whispered. “Tomorrow. So, we can discuss the health fair, and I can get some bad lasagna. Or do you want me to bring some decent food.”
“I’ll handle lunch.” Eli winked as he squeezed her hand again. They could talk about the health fair, but Eli was going to find out what had sent her over the edge tonight. If it was something he could fix, he’d do it. Amara belonged at Boston Gen.
With him.
After hesitating a moment, Eli dropped a light kiss against her cheek and then exited from her car.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELI SMILED AS he saw Amara pull into his driveway behind his garage. She’d kissed him last night. It had been amazing and far too short. But the hope the brief kiss had given him was still blazing inside him today.
Having lunch together at his home to talk about the health fair wasn’t a date, but his heart pounded as she walked up his driveway. She was really here.
Amara was here.
As he opened the door, Eli nearly tripped as Lizzy rushed at his legs to wave at Amara. It still amazed him how such a tiny child could expend so much force. “Daddy!” She squealed as he lifted her into the air.
His heart sped up as she waved at Lizzy. The toddler stuck her tongue out, and Amara did too. His heart warmed at the simple exchange. Amara had always been good with children; she’d even considered specializing in pediatrics before deciding she loved the ER as much as he did. She’d make a wonderful mother...
Eli shook the thought from his mind. It was true. But it was also way too soon.
“She’s very swift for someone with such tiny legs.” His mom rounded the corner. She grinned as she saw Amara. His mother had always loved her, but Martha had understood better than anyone else why she’d walked away. She’d told him this morning to be very careful. His mother loved Marshall, but she’d finally divorced him.
Tired of living alone in her marriage.
Those words had sent a chill through Eli when Martha had told him and Sam of her decision five years ago. Amara had worried that she’d be lonely if she stayed with him too, so she’d left. But he wouldn’t make the same mistake hi
s father had. He’d find a way to balance his professional goals and family responsibilities, so nothing suffered.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Martha said. “Thank you for coming to my art show. That was incredibly sweet.”
“I enjoyed it. You’re very talented.” Amara stated as his mom pulled her into an unexpected hug.
Martha turned to Lizzy. “Come to Oma.” She laughed as Lizzy launched into her arms. “We’re going to the park now.”
Eli dropped a light kiss on the top of Lizzy’s head before hugging his mom. Then he turned to Amara. “Hope you’re hungry. I ordered some roasted tomato pasta.” Eli nodded toward the kitchen.
“That sounds much better than a frozen lasagna,” Amara teased.
“Or wilted salad.” Eli winked as he pulled a few plates from a cupboard.
“Bagged salad is easy. My kitchen is tiny and cooking for one...” Amara cleared her throat as she stared out the small window, “I always end up with more leftovers than I can eat.”
Before he could comment, Amara rushed on. “Besides, bagged salad is better than vending machine snacks.” Her nose scrunched up.
He hated that she didn’t cook much anymore. Amara had loved cooking. More than one person had stopped by to ask for a recipe as delicious scents floated from their windows. “You’re free to use this kitchen anytime.” The words slipped from Eli’s lips, and he was rewarded with a brilliant smile.
“You shouldn’t offer that up so lightly! I’ll have this place smelling like lemon rice in no time.” She laughed, her eyes holding his.
“I love lemon rice.” Eli couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face too. Amara had always been able to make him happy. Whether he was buried in med school homework, stressed about his family, or dealing with a bad night at the ER, Amara simply made things better.
* * *
Amara stood against the kitchen counter as Eli piled tomatoes and pasta onto large blue plates. He was dressed casually, in jeans that hugged his backside perfectly and a green T-shirt. Stubble covered his jaw, and she sighed. Eli looked delicious.
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