Heat Up the Fall: New Adult Boxed Set (6 Book Bundle)

by Gennifer Albin

  But when I looked up at her, her face fell.

  “Oh, honey. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I said, sounding like my voice was completely detached from my body. “I mean… I don’t know. I mean….whoa.”

  Cat gave a nervous laugh. “Okay, you’re gonna have to tell me more than that.”

  My voice shook. “That guy in my business class?”

  “Your project partner?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, Jesus. What’d he do?”

  “He kissed me.” My fingers flew to my mouth. It seemed like it was all a dream until I said the words out loud and felt the spot where his lips had touched mine.

  Then I realized that the whole front of my body had touched all of the back of his and remembered how my fingers had rubbed over those abs…

  “You’re blushing like crazy!” Cat squealed. “Do you like him?”

  That jolted me right out of whatever soaking-wet, just-been-kissed stupor I’d been in. “No! No, I frickin’ hate him!”

  Cat lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows to stare at me doubtfully. “Not to piss you off, Jo, but you don’t look like you hate him. You look like you can’t wait to get your hands back on him.”

  I sighed, then shook my head and let the movement transfer to my shoulders. I was like a dog trying to shake the water off me, but I was trying to shake the memory of Hawk off, too. Although, I knew it wouldn’t work. My lips still tingled; my heart still thrummed; and my skin was still unable to forget the feeling of his warm, solid chest pressed against me while the freezing rain pelted us both.

  My eyes caught on the clock on the far wall of the living room. “Dammit, I have to change.”

  “Want me to make you some coffee?”

  “Would you mind?” I asked sheepishly.

  She laughed. “Just call me your own personal barista.” She grabbed my backpack and lowered it to the ground. “I’ll make sure everything in here is okay. You go change, and I’ll hand you a cup on your way back out.”

  I stood on my tiptoes and kissed her on the cheek, then dashed up the stairs.

  My hair looked like a rat’s nest, and my face looked even worse. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, pulling my bottom eyelids down and examining my bloodshot eyes. What was this guy doing to me?

  I touched my fingers to my lips, remembering the feel of exhilarated desperation, of dying for more of him. Really being with him would not be good for me, I just knew it. He was the opposite of everything a girl like me wanted in a guy. I needed someone who could take care of me, who could keep me on track, who could be almost as focused on my goals as I was.

  Now, I needed to focus.

  Because hot kiss with Hawk or not, I still had to go back to Children’s to shadow Doctor O’Donnell today. Dread twisted in my gut.

  A quick, hot shower did wonders for my hair, but a shiver still ran through my whole body — the same one that I felt the first time I touched Hawk.

  I couldn’t believe I had a crush on a guy named Hawk. I couldn’t believe I had French kissed a guy named Hawk in the rain outside my sorority house.

  Focus, Joey. You have to focus now.

  It was true. I couldn’t go to Doctor O’Donnell’s office if I was off my game in any way. I took another deep breath and clenched my fists at my sides. Remember your goals, Josephine. Remember med school.

  Remember Dad.

  Yeah. Dad. I certainly wouldn’t want Dad to know I was spending my time in school making out with a loser motorbike-riding bartender who was always late and gave lame-ass excuses.

  I pulled my hair back into a bun. The fastest option, what with the rain still pounding on the windows. I managed to find a pair of dressy black pants, gray suede heels that looked polished but I knew were comfortable, and a tailored white button-down shirt.

  Just like that, I was back to being Josephine, Doctor Daly’s daughter. The person who I was meant to be. Now that I was dressed the part, I couldn’t quite figure out why there was a twisting, gnawing pit in my stomach.

  After Cat handed me coffee and a protein bar, I passed off the feeling as hunger, but walking into Doctor O’Donnell’s office, it came surging back again. The same condescending half-smile was on her face, and she barely looked at me when the desk receptionist showed me into her office.

  “I’m glad you’re back, Miss Daly.”

  I wanted to say, “You are?” But instead I returned her tight smile and said, “Thank you,” making sure that my eyes met hers. I knew I needed to strike the right balance of brave and submissive if I was going to survive this for the rest of the semester.

  “I’ve been thinking about your first day with me ever since you left,” she said, still shuffling through papers.

  “You have?” My heart jumped. Maybe she felt badly about the way she had spoken to me. Maybe she wanted to change things, to let me speak to patients, reassure them. To do the stuff I had done with Theresa at the Rowland House.

  The stuff I was actually good at.

  “I want you to come with me on my pediatric oncology rounds today, Josephine. I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding about…how I do things here. Frankly. And I think that if you come with me, you’ll see where I’m coming from.”

  The gears in my brain whirred. This was exactly what I was supposed to want to be doing. Be excited, Joey. This is what you’re here for.

  But if I was supposed to be so excited, why was there a strange heat creeping up the back of my neck, and why was I suddenly so short of breath?

  I forced a smile, counted my breaths, forcing them to be slow, and waited while she gathered up her papers. By the time we were headed out of her office, I felt like I could breathe again, if only a little.

  Doctor O’Donnell made no conversation on the way up to the floor. I remembered how my mom, sister, brothers and I would walk up to the oncology ward to visit Dad every morning and every afternoon, before and after school. Those solemn walks framed my whole life for a year and a half. And now, with the look of this hospital so similar, I was beginning to realize they’d frame the rest of my life, too.

  A girl with long, shining black hair shot through with purple streaks and a messenger bag stuffed full got on next to us. Doctor O’Donnell pressed the button for the sixth floor, then looked at the girl expectantly.

  “Oh, that’s where I am, too,” she said with a soft smile. I glanced down at her bag. I could barely see the corner of a hardback picture book and the curled paper end of one of those birthday party noisemakers peeking out of the corner.

  Clearly, she wasn’t a doctor. She must have been some kid’s big sister, coming to cheer them up. No one brought picture books and toys to the adult oncology ward. I smiled back at her as we stepped off the elevator.

  Walking out into the hallway, I realized why the oncology ward should always be on a higher floor — sunlight. It flooded the halls and made the sterile environment seem just a bit warmer, even with the smell of the hospital cleaners and sight of the IV poles waiting at the nurses’ station flooding my senses.

  Even though the murals and sunlight made it different, this floor had enough in common with dad’s oncology unit that I started fighting for air again. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I repeated it over and over until I could control the dizziness.

  Our first stop was halfway down the first hallway. Doctor O’Donnell’s hand paused on the door handle as she turned to me.

  “Remember,” she said. “You’re here to observe only.”

  I nodded, willing the lump forming in my throat to stay back. I hadn’t even heard about this kid’s situation yet, and I was already starting to lose my shit. And I wanted to be a doctor. Get it together, Joey.

  Doctor O’Donnell gave me a tight smile. “We’re on rounds, so I won’t be talking much either. That’s for my med students.”

  Something in me got a little excited — I hadn’t known we’d be on rounds. This would be a preview of med school. And of me in med
school.

  Three people in white coats already waited in the patient’s room. Two guys and a girl who could have been me if her hair was a little lighter and a little curlier. The bed in the room was gigantic — or maybe it only seemed that way because of the size of the little girl lying in it. She couldn’t have been older than four or five, and her big, brown, watery eyes stared up at me, like maybe I could tell her something happy, somehow take her mind off the two IV ports that seemed comically large sticking out of her arm and hand. Her father sat next to her on the bed, his hand resting on her shoulder so lightly it looked like he was afraid of breaking her.

  I nodded my head and gave him a sympathetic smile when I caught his eye, but his lip just sort of trembled when he looked back at me.

  I knew that look. It was the look of fear. I had seen it on my mom and siblings the first couple weeks Dad was in the hospital, before we could see that the chemo was starting to work. I knew, from then, that nothing really helped, but a little bit of humanity from caregivers went a long way.

  Too bad he wasn’t going to get any of that from Doctor O’Donnell. She didn’t even make eye contact with him, looking instead to her group of students.

  “Go ahead, Miss Phillips. Tell us about the patient.”

  The girl in the white coat nodded, cleared her throat, and looked down at her chart. “The patient — her name is Kya — ” She snuck a glance up at Doctor O’Donnell before continuing, and I couldn’t help but smile. “ — presented three days ago with complaints of eye pain. Her mother had also noticed instances of crossed eyes and a cat’s eye appearance in a family snapshot. The diagnosis was retinoblastoma, which seems to be contained within the eye with no sign of vitreous seeds. An echoencephalogram is scheduled for two o’clock and should give us further insight into the spread of any disease.”

  “Thank you. And Mr. Stein, your recommendations?”

  One of the guys, tall and gangly with hair badly in need of a trim, cleared his throat. “Dependent of further testing, of course.” His eyes flashed up to hers. “But depending on how far the malignancy is spread, she’ll need eye surgery at the very least. Possibly radiation or even chemotherapy for the long-term. Removal of the eye is a distinct possibility.”

  The girl’s father made a strange choking noise, and Mr. Stein looked down at him apologetically, not daring to talk to him. Doctor O’Donnell glanced down at him briefly but then nodded to the students.

  “Thank you. I’ll see you in the next room.” They filed out, and she motioned me after them. Just before I turned to leave, she looked at the father again. “The nurses will be along to answer your questions. We’ll know more after testing.”

  And that was it. No smiles, no words of comfort, no soft hand on the child’s head.

  We stopped in eight more rooms just like that, except each was a different degree of horrible. An aggressive brain tumor discovered in stage three. Bone cancer discovered when a girl fell during gymnastics and couldn’t get up. Melanoma in a three-year-old. Four cases of leukemia. I wished I hadn’t spent time beforehand learning the difference between the acute lymphoblastic type and the acute myeloid type because then my brain wouldn’t have been working through which of the kids had the greatest chance of survival.

  The last room we walked into had the same huge bed with plastic-handled sides holding another little kid, too small to have to be in the hospital at all.

  Just like the rest of them.

  The girl was furiously manhandling a video game remote and sitting up straight, staring at the TV on the wall next to us intently. I don’t think I could have handled another listless, dying child.

  And then, I noticed that beside her was Theresa, the woman I’d sat with at Rowland House.

  Before I could stop myself, I broke into a grin and said, “Hi!”

  She smiled back wearily at the exact same instant that Doctor O’Donnell shot me a look and the three med students stared at me with wide eyes.

  “I…uh… I met Ms.…”

  “Theresa. You all can call me Theresa.”

  “…at Rowland House. After you asked me to drop off those files a couple days ago.”

  Doctor O’Donnell’s eyebrows raised, and her chin shifted down the slightest bit. “I see. Well. Let’s hear about the patient.”

  “Rachel,” I murmured, a little breathless with awe at how strong this little girl was already proving herself to be.

  “Um,” the other guy said. “The patient is seven years old and presented with acute pain in her arm and a recurring fever. A lumbar puncture revealed the presence of leukemia. She’s had her first three days of chemo — ”

  “And getting more energy, I see?” I asked Theresa. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Rachel and her furious gaming were a picture of hope, at least in this little moment.

  Theresa smiled again. “A little. Enough to make me stop worrying so much. At least she wants to play video games and — ”

  Doctor O’Donnell cut us off. “Treatment plan?” ’

  “She’ll have one round of chemo, wait till her ANC comes back up, and then do it again. If her marrow looks clean, they’ll send her home and do a yearly exam. After five years, she’ll be considered in remission.” The guy gave his own small smile to Theresa.

  At that moment, a nurse came in with a rolling table. “Time to clean up your port, cutie.”

  Rachel paused the game, sighed, and dropped back on her bed while the nurse came over and lifted up her shirt. I winced, and my stomach turned when I saw the still-raw skin and darkened blood surrounding the circular port. It had been so painful for Dad to have it put in, and I remembered how long it had taken for the skin to look somewhat normal around the site.

  Rachel grimaced, and from the look on her face when she turned her head sideways into the pillow, the pain was immense. What a little trooper. Unfortunately, I was not such a trooper. The room spun around me.

  Clearly, there was more than one aspect of this doctor thing I wasn’t handling so well.

  I breathed in through my nose, chanting silent apologies at Dad, staring down at my Doctor Daly shoes and focusing on my promise to him.

  After a few seconds, the nurse pulled Rachel’s shirt down and peered out the door. “I think Andi was just about to come in here to help you with your hair.”

  Thank God the nurse was there to talk to Theresa because, while she was, Doctor O’Donnell had started to discuss prognoses with her students. It had been bad enough for me to hear speculation on exactly how long my dad had to live, and that had been in a nice office with a focused doctor more than three days into his treatment.

  “Oh, yep,” the nurse smiled. “Here she is!”

  The same girl I’d seen on the elevator with the messenger bag stuffed full of kids’ stuff walked into the room with a gentle smile on her face. “Hey, Rachel.”

  Rachel practically sprang up back into a sitting position. “Hey! You came back!”

  “Yeah, I wanted to check up on you! Plus, you owe me a Ramona read.”

  Rachel half-rolled her eyes, but it was clear she was mostly pretending and totally delighted to see Andi.

  “Hey now, I had to read to you for half an hour yesterday. You’re not gonna let a silly thing like chemo kick you down, are you? I think you’re definitely strong enough for a few pages today.”

  “Especially when she was playing her racing game so furiously a few minutes ago,” Theresa said, her eyes smiling. “Don’t let her fool you. I never do.”

  Doctor O’Donnell was still talking about something. I wasn’t picking up half the words she said or understanding half of those I did.

  Andi said, “Theresa, right?”

  Theresa nodded.

  “Do you want to step out and grab a cup of coffee?”

  “Actually, yeah. I haven’t even showered in a couple days,” she said, stretching and looking sheepish. “But coffee would help.”

  Andi waved her hand. “Go get a shower! I’m not leaving till R
achel reads me ten pages anyway, and I wanted to help her out with her hair.”

  Rachel yawned, but I could have sworn it was a really good fake. “I’m pretty tired, mom. I’m probably just gonna sleep.”

  I barely caught the slight wink Andi shot Rachel’s way.

  Theresa stood up next to the bed and shot a glance down at the pillow. My eyes followed hers to see a fine covering of dark curls left behind on the pillow. “We cut it short a couple days ago when they told us about the chemo.” She lowered her voice. “But she won’t shave it.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Andi said, holding up a roll of duct tape. “Okay if it’s gone when you get back?”

  “I would be so grateful to you. I think she’ll feel braver if you’re here.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Andi said, giving her a hug.

  When Theresa was gone, Andi sat down on Rachel’s bed, handing her a book. “Okay, Rach. The hair-dropping-all-over-everything is bugging you, huh?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “You know that the medicine that kills the cancer is what’s making your hair fall out, right?”

  Rachel nodded again. “So it’s a good thing.”

  “Mmmhm,” Andi said. “In fact, the faster it’s all gone, the faster you’ll start to feel better. And the better it’ll grow back when you’re all done with the medicine.”

  “Okay, but you’re not gonna shave it, are you?”

  “Nope! Here — pick a color.” Andi had six or seven different rolls of brightly colored and patterned duct tape in her bag. Rachel chose one decorated with lightning bolts. Andi wrapped a piece — sticky side out — around four of her fingers, like a hand-shaped lint brush. “We’re gonna touch this gently to the top of your hair, and it’ll pick up any loose ones so they don’t fall all over your bed and clothes and make you itchy and sad. You’ll barely feel it. Okay?”

  Rachel gulped and nodded.

  “Read to me all about the trouble Ramona’s getting into today, okay?”