Eli pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering just a bit along her jaw. “If we win, I promise to take a vacation this year.”
“If we win, I’ll make sure you do,” Amara whispered. Her stomach rolled with desire, nervousness and hope. “A real one. With no cell phones, research papers. No work!”
“I missed you so much,” Eli stated simply, and her world came undone.
She kissed him then. He still tasted of honey, sunlight, comfort and longing.
Her Eli...
They’d once felt like two halves of a whole. Could they again?
Her fingers ran along his shoulders as he pulled her closer, as if Eli couldn’t accept any space between them either. This was the kiss Amara had wanted for days, weeks...years. The one that spoke of all their mutual longing. The kiss that demonstrated how much passion they still felt for one another. It was everything.
Eli’s fingers dipped along the side of her breasts, and she froze. If they didn’t stop now, where would the night lead? The thought tore through her as she pulled away. “I should leave.”
“Amara.” Eli took her hands. “Stay...please.”
She wanted to, desperately. But staying meant so much more than planning for the health fair. Kisses, promises...maybe the hope of forever clung to Eli. She wanted all of it, but the fear that he’d look at her differently once he found out about her surgery clung to her too. Fear that this happiness could evaporate in an instant ripped through her. She just needed a bit more time.
Amara removed her hands from his, stood and reached for her purse. “I’m going to brainstorm some themes for our booth.”
“Can we discuss the health fair over dinner tomorrow?”
Amara shook her head. “We’re on shift tomorrow evening.”
“I know. But if there’s a break, we are having dinner. I’m not sure what happened just now...”
“Eli.” Amara frowned.
“It’s okay.” He stood and pressed his lips to each of her cheeks before lightly kissing her lips. “Whenever you’re ready, you’ll tell me.”
Her eyes clouded with tears. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was a promise, and behind it lay so many more. Amara grabbed her keys and barely kept her feet moving forward.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AMARA WISHED SHE hadn’t panicked last night as she walked through the doors of Boston Gen. the next morning. That she’d found the right words to tell him about her surgery. Eli wasn’t like the other men she’d dated since her double mastectomy. But she couldn’t stop the fear.
Amara had stood before a mirror last night and stared at the scars across her chest. They’d faded in the three years since her surgery. The skin was still tucked, and the nipples she’d had tattooed on would never look exactly like her previous ones had. The memory of Joe’s averted gaze threatened to overwhelm her.
It didn’t matter now, she tried to tell herself.
She automatically performed a quick search for Eli, but he wasn’t in the hall. She’d figured out what they should do for the health fair, laid out some plans, grabbed him a coffee and now she just had to find him.
“Are you doing okay with Eli and the health fair?” Susan asked as she followed Amara into the lounge.
Amara was surprised by the look of concern on Susan’s face. “Still planning, but I want to focus on healthy eating and do a cooking demonstration.” She just needed to get Eli on board. This idea was different from any he’d ever done, but she was almost certain he’d like it.
Almost...
“Well, I’d do the cooking demonstration. Eli likes to joke that he really shouldn’t be allowed near a stove. Though he does make a very passable grilled cheese.” Amara chuckled as she leaned against the locker, memories of last night making her smile.
If only she hadn’t run.
“He’ll probably try to convince you to hire a celebrity chef.” Susan’s brows furrowed as she stared at Amara.
A celebrity chef for the health fair? That seemed over the top, even for Eli. “Why would he do that?” Amara asked as she placed her stethoscope around her neck.
“To draw attention to Boston Gen.” Susan shrugged.
“I know he wants people to see this hospital for the fine institution it is, but a celebrity chef is ridiculous for a community health fair.” Amara knew Eli wanted outside recognition. But she still hoped that he didn’t need it like he once had. After all, he seemed happy with his life now.
“I’m not so sure. He’s done a lot for this place in the last six years, but we will never be Massachusetts Research.” Susan sighed. “That place chases awards like it’s their job.”
Amara nodded. “That’s true.” She’d worked there for nearly a decade. But she knew why Eli cared about those accolades so much. It made her heart ache that he clearly still wrestled with stepping outside of his father’s shadow. And Marshall didn’t make his son’s struggle any easier. He asked Eli for help, called and texted at all hours, but never offered a thank-you or told Eli he’d done well. As soon as one task was completed, Marshall focused on the next, barely seeing the people around him. Eli was chasing an approval Amara feared was never going to come.
“I paired you with him because I figured he would just take over.” Susan shrugged. “I assumed Eli would handle everything, and you’d get a few extra vacation days. I know the hospital doesn’t offer great starting packages, even for nurses with your résumé. Instead, it appears you’ve helped him take a desperately needed chill pill. I’m impressed.”
Amara swallowed. “I have?”
Susan winked. “This time last year, half the nursing staff wanted to murder him. He and Dr. Stanfred kept goading each other. The fact that Eli never uses the vacation days he wins drives Griffin insane.”
Leaning against the locker bank, Susan studied Amara. “You’re a calming influence on him.” Adjusting her purse, she patted Amara’s arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my very handsome dinner date is waiting for me.”
* * *
Eli stepped into the lounge and waved at Susan as she walked out. His dark hair was a bit mussed, but he looked amazing. His eyes met Amara’s, and light danced across them.
She’d never get tired of that reaction. Never. Amara handed him his coffee. “I know what we should do for the health fair.” She knew it was a good idea, but Susan’s worries had crawled into her head.
“I think we should do a cooking demonstration.” She grabbed her notes and passed them to Eli. She kept talking as he looked over the stack of recipes she’d compiled last night. “I pulled my mom’s old recipes. They’re healthy, most are vegetarian, so that cuts out the cost of meat, and the rest of the ingredients are inexpensive staples. We can hand out samples and a pamphlet with the cooking instructions.”
She held her breath. Amara knew this wasn’t a fancy booth like he’d planned before. “I can handle most of it—you’ll just show up as my helper.” Eli kept his focus on the recipes. “I know this is different—”
“It’s perfect,” Eli interrupted.
His broad smile sent waves of hope and happiness floating through her. He was letting her take over the booth, and she could cook her mother’s recipes. Her mom would have loved that—basked in the glory of it even. “I do need one thing, though.”
“What? If it’s in my power, the answer is yes.”
“I haven’t cooked these dishes in a while, and I need to adjust the recipes so I can make larger batches...”
“You need my kitchen.” Eli’s eyes darkened with desire as they looked at her lips.
“Yes,” she whispered. If she was over at his place, they’d kiss again. She wanted to, so badly, but anxiety knotted her stomach once again. “I’d need to be there several times a week to get all the recipes perfected. I don’t want to impose.”
Eli gripped her hand. “That sounds very much
like the opposite of imposition to me. I want you to visit.”
The sounds of sirens echoed in the hall, and Eli put his coffee on top of a locker. “Duty calls.”
They moved together toward the bay, and Amara barely managed to contain her surprise as Marshall stepped out of the back of the ambulance. She heard Eli’s intake of breath, but he didn’t hesitate like she did as the paramedics lowered the patient from the ambulance.
“What happened?” Eli asked the paramedic.
“Gillian found Tabitha passed out on the floor, her face slack,” Marshall answered.
Stroke... The word raced through Amara’s head, and she saw Eli nod.
“The mobile CT scanner is in trauma 2,” Eli called. “That’s where we’re headed, people.”
“You need to remain here, Dr. Collins.” Eli’s voice was tight as he followed Amara.
“Like hell, I will!” Marshall exclaimed. “Tabitha’s been with The Collins Research Group for almost two decades. She’d want me—”
“She’s coding, Eli!” Amara pulled out the shock paddles and started to pass them to Eli, but Marshall was in the way.
Eli reached around his father and grabbed the paddles from her. “You don’t have visiting physician rights at Boston Gen., and you’re impeding the treatment of this patient. I need to get Tabitha stabilized. If you don’t leave, I will have security remove you.”
Amara knew that despite their differences, Eli would hate to call security on his father. She motioned for Eric, another nurse, to take her place. “Come on, Marshall. I’ll show you where the waiting room is.”
“I know where to go,” Marshall barked, and pulled his arm from hers.
Many people responded to stress with anger. Amara had calmed hundreds of angry relatives and friends of patients over the years. Lowering her voice, she said, “Eli is one of the finest emergency room doctors in the state.”
Marshall nodded but didn’t say anything as he finally started walking toward the waiting room. “I’m sure he’s more than adequate. Like this hospital, really—better than most just not great.”
Amara knew her mouth was hanging open, but she was stunned. And furious. How dare he? How could Marshall just ignore his son’s accomplishments? How could he not look at Eli and see what she saw? “Why don’t you respect emergency medicine?” Amara hadn’t meant to ask that, but she wanted Marshall’s answer. Maybe it would help her with Eli.
“Respect?” Marshall rubbed his chin as he stared at her. “What I do is like fine art, delicate, intricate, exclusive.” Marshall shrugged. “Emergency medicine has its place. But it’s not surgery.”
She wanted to shake him. How many of Marshall’s patients had been saved by an emergency room doctor or nurse first? Hundreds. They were the ones who stabilized so many of his patients, often more than once, to make sure they had a chance for a successful transplant or heart surgery. “Eli is a better doctor than you.”
Amara turned on her heel before Marshall could offer a rebuttal. She didn’t care if he didn’t believe it. She knew it, and she’d find a way to make Eli accept that fact too. He didn’t have anything to prove to his father.
* * *
Eli wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the intensive care team race Tabitha upstairs. The mobile CT scanner had identified a clot in her brain, the reason for her stroke. She’d stabilized after Eli had ordered an injection of tissue plasminogen activator. But her recovery was still uncertain.
Eli made his way to the waiting area to find Tabitha’s husband. He was stunned to see his father sitting next to the worried man. He’d assumed Marshall would have headed back to the office by now or to his own hospital. He’d never known his father to take an afternoon off.
“Sir...”
“Mark,” Tabitha’s husband said. “How is my wife?”
“We managed to get her stabilized, Mark.”
The man’s gaze shifted between Eli and Marshall. “What does that mean?”
Eli hated this part. There was never a good way to tell someone that their life was changing. Even if their loved one recovered. “They’re running some tests now. Your wife had at least one stroke.”
Mark’s eyes filled with tears. “But she is going to be okay, right?”
“Of course,” Marshall stated.
What was his father doing? There was no way for him to know that. “Dr. Collins, that may not be true.” Marshall’s eyes flashed, but Eli ignored it.
Directing his attention to Tabitha’s husband, Eli started again. “She coded once today. She was breathing on her own when we transferred her upstairs, and that is excellent. But if she makes it through this, your wife will have a long recovery.”
Mark flinched. “Can I see her?”
Eli nodded. “Of course. I’ll have someone take you to her shortly.”
Eli waited until Mark had gone before rounding on his father. “You might not like telling Tabitha’s husband that she has a difficult road ahead, but it wasn’t appropriate for you to say she’s going to be fine. You’re not her physician, and you have no idea what her medical prognosis is at the moment.”
Eli was shocked by his own sharp tone. The only other time he’d stood up to his father was when he’d chosen not to become a surgeon. Marshall hadn’t spoken to him for years after that, but Eli would not allow his father to offer poor medical advice in his hospital. Patients deserved the truth, no matter how much it might hurt to hear. He’d have thought his father understood that.
“I hate the family and patient interaction part,” Marshall grumbled. “Easier to cut out the problem and replace it than talk to the family.”
Eli wanted to shake his father. The patient and their family were the reasons Eli practiced medicine. To help people live their best lives.
For a man who always told his family that it was the patient who came first, Marshall often seemed more concerned about his success rate. He just saw the problem he could fix, not the whole person.
But he saved lives too, Eli thought, a lot of lives.
Eli was different from his father, but their reasons for practicing medicine were the same.
Save as many people as possible.
If their approach differed, did that really matter?
“Amara told me you were a better doctor than me.” Marshall’s statement broke through the rapid-fire of Eli’s thoughts.
Eli’s soul felt a bit lighter as he continued down the hall. She’d defended him to his father.
Of course she had.
Amara had always believed in him. If he hadn’t already thought she was perfect, that would have done it.
“That’s absurd, of course.” Marshall chuckled. “And I have the stats to prove it.”
“The stats?” Eli laughed.
“I’ve been ranked one of the top surgeons for the last decade. The last time I checked, neither this hospital nor you have ever even been in contention.”
The twinge of inadequacy Eli always felt around his father sharpened. It didn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter. Marshall was tired, frustrated and concerned about a colleague. That was why he was lashing out. Eli had dealt with this many times during his career.
“I know you’re worried about Tabitha.” Eli kept his voice low and controlled. He could offer his father comfort. It was what he did every day of his working life.
His father’s eyes shifted, and he sighed. “She’s worked for me for a long time.” Marshall’s eyes swept over Eli. And for the first time in forever, Marshall really seemed to see him. “You did a nice job tonight. You might make that list one day too.”
The tiny compliment struck him, and Eli hated that he couldn’t stop his smile. Marshall hadn’t complimented his career in any way since he’d gone into emergency medicine. What would he think if Eli managed to get Boston General in that report?
He’d have t
o respect him then.
“Eli?” Amara’s voice carried down the hall.
He walked up to her and pulled her into a deep hug. “Thank you.”
“For?” Amara’s eyes slid to Marshall as he exited the hospital.
“For believing in me and telling my father I was a better doctor than him. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I appreciate it.” Eli hadn’t meant to say it was a stretch out loud. But he couldn’t withdraw it now.
Amara frowned. “I don’t think it’s a stretch.”
No, she probably didn’t. And that shot of acceptance made Eli feel so alive. “Amara, I—”
“Dr. Collins, there you are!” One of the med techs rushed toward them. “Dr. Stanfred asked if you’d take the elderly woman in room 2.” The tech was gone before Eli could answer.
“Duty calls—again,” Eli stated. “It’s going to be one of those nights.”
* * *
An older woman was clutching a man’s arm and clearly in pain as he tried to help her walk from the bathroom to the bed in room 7. Amara and Eli raced for the couple. As Amara got her arm under the woman’s shoulder, she was struck by the heat radiating off her chest. Eli’s glance told her that he felt the same thing. The woman was burning up.
“What seems to be the problem?” Eli’s voice was steady, comforting, as he helped the woman settle into the bed. Amara had meant what she’d told Marshall. Eli was an excellent doctor, calm in emergency situations, reassuring with his patients, always in control.
And Amara thought Marshall knew it too. Was maybe even a bit jealous of his son. Not that he’d ever admit it.
“I think my surgical incisions are infected.” The woman’s voice was ragged.
“Betty won’t let me see,” her husband added as he held his wife’s hand. “But she has a fever, and she’s changed her surgical dressings three times today.”
“I—I—” Her throat was choked with tears as she looked from her husband to Amara. “I look so different, Harry.”
Falling Again for the Single Dad Page 10
