“Thrilled” wasn’t the first word Molly would choose. Alarmed, appalled, heartsick—any of those seemed way more apropos. But at the moment she felt as if she was drowning in a big cesspool of recrimination.
Jake stared at her from across the table, his lips tight and his gaze unyielding, most likely detesting her over the leaked footage. Beside him Kellie watched her as if she was some kind of circus oddity—the same look her father’s friends had used to give young Molly during her performances at home. As if they could see all her faults, all her foibles, all her flaws. As if they were just waiting for Molly to screw up.
“About the interview,” Kellie persisted. “I promise not to take up too much of your time.”
“No interview.” Molly forced the words past her tight vocal cords. “I’m sorry.”
“Too bad.” Kellie didn’t sound disappointed. “But your father told me to expect as much. He said you were...different. Now, it’s obvious what he meant.”
Obvious that you’re weird. Obvious that you’re awkward. Obvious that you’re unlovable.
Why had she ever thought this would work with Jake? Seeing him sitting there with his ex, both so beautiful and poised and perfect, she wondered why he would ever choose someone like her for more than just a casual fling.
He wouldn’t.
Molly blinked at Jake as Kellie abruptly walked away, eyes stinging at the realization. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. But the harder she tried to stop the tears, the more they struggled to escape. It seemed she’d kept her emotions under wraps too long. Now that the floodgates were open there was no closing them.
“Are you crying?” Jake asked, incredulous. “Dammit, Molly—”
She tuned him out. She’d heard all those taunts from her father too many times to count.
“Stop crying. Tears are for weaklings. Your emotions are your enemy.”
Molly knew all that—knew her feelings would only cause her trouble—and still she’d taken the gamble, gone with her gut, chosen a glorious night in Jake’s arms over a million days of nothingness in her father’s harsh, cold world.
Sniffling, Molly searched her handbag for a tissue and found her phone buzzing with a text from Gladys.
Bobby in RD.
“I need to go.” Molly stood and tossed her napkin on the table.
“So that’s it, then?” Jake rose as well, scowling, his eyes glittering with anger. “You’re done? We’re not even discussing this? You’re just going to walk out and to hell with us?”
“There is no ‘us,’ Jake. There never was. You know that as well as I do.”
Molly rushed to the lobby to get her coat while swiping the back of her hand across her wet cheeks, Jake hot on her heels. If this was what it was like to live with your heart on your sleeve, where it could get broken and trampled, then it was awful.
Molly dialed the hospital, waiting anxiously for Gladys to pick up. At Jake’s pointed stare, she said, “Bobby’s in respiratory distress.”
The words emerged more impassioned than she’d intended, but her heart felt ripped out and stomped on. She’d trusted Jake too. Trusted him enough to let him see the real her, opened her heart and soul to him—which had been a mistake. She’d known better than to let him in, let him see her flaws. Honestly, she should be thankful. Thankful that he’d reminded her of why it was better, safer, to keep to herself.
“But he’s in a clean room,” Jake said softly, his tanned face growing pale.
“I know that.” Molly tugged on her coat before pushing outside to hail a taxi, her irritation at herself for being such a trusting idiot bubbling over into her snarky response. “I’m the one who put him there, remember?”
“How could Bobby go into respiratory distress in a sterile environment?”
“Your guess is as good as mine right now.”
A cab swerved up to the curb and Molly opened the door. Her cheeks were burning and her eyes felt puffy, but she had to pull herself together so she could save Bobby.
She climbed into the back seat, saying to the driver, “I need to get to Anchorage Mercy as soon as possible, please.”
“Molly, wait!” Jake called from the curb.
“I can’t wait, Jake. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”
As the car pulled away more tears welled. For the remainder of her time here Molly would have to see Jake as just a work associate—nothing more.
Goodbye fun...goodbye affection. Goodbye love.
* * *
Jake stared after the cab, focusing on the red glow of the receding taillights, wondering how in the world this whole thing had ended so horribly. And, yeah, he was fed up. Rightfully so. He was the wronged party. So why did he now feel like as much of a bully as Molly’s ass of a father?
Dammit.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned against the side of the cold brick building. Molly had needed him tonight—needed his support tonight against Kellie—but he’d been so wrapped up in his past hurts and bruised ego he’d left her flailing.
Yes, he was upset about the footage. Yes, she should’ve told him. Yes, he felt betrayed. But as his righteous fury burned away he was left feeling raw and exposed.
Part of him wanted to run after that taxi and make it stop. His past, though, kept him rooted to the spot. After all, he’d allowed himself to trust a woman completely before and look where that had gotten him. Kellie had had excuses, reasons, lies aplenty for why she’d done what she’d done—why she’d left him and run off alone to New York, why she’d never looked back.
Stupid. You’re so damned stupid, his brain said. You’re an ER doc. Why would a brilliant, successful woman choose you over the bright lights and big city?
It was embarrassing. Shameful. If he had any brains at all, he’d have learned from his mistakes and moved on from Kellie to make wiser choices in his future relationships. Stay away from women who’d only leave him behind in the dust when something bigger or better came along, when the next huge case beckoned.
Why not you? his heart asked. Molly’s not Kellie.
And she wasn’t. He knew that. They were as different as night and day. Kellie only cared about herself. Molly was selfless and kind and giving. They were different.
Are they? Brain again. Always the cynic.
His mixed reactions made his gut twist.
Still torn, he lingered outside, battling the urge to call Molly and tell her that he loved her, that he would do anything to erase his knee-jerk reaction to the news about the leaked footage and the unexpected and unwelcome arrival of Kellie at their table and beg her forgiveness, but he couldn’t.
He couldn’t change what he’d done because he didn’t want to hurt her. Couldn’t promise her something he couldn’t deliver. Truth was, once Bobby’s case was over she’d be gone and he’d be left to deal with the aftermath alone, as always.
No. They’d both gone into this knowing it was temporary, fleeting.
Still, that was no reason to hurt her the way he had in the restaurant. No reason to lash out and strike all those vulnerable areas of hers just because he knew which buttons to push, same as she did with him.
God, what a mess.
Too late, Jake realized the anger and betrayal he’d felt inside the restaurant had been directed more at past wrongs with Kellie than it had been toward the woman who’d just left for the hospital.
Each time he closed his eyes all Jake could see was Molly’s tearstained face, the way she’d shrunk in on herself as Kellie had repeated her father’s insults.
Different. Like that was a bad thing. To Jake, “different” sounded pretty damned wonderful.
You’re such a jerk.
At least on that point his heart and his brain were united in their sentiment.
Distracted, Jake stalked back into the restaurant and hailed their waiter. Bobby was in trouble and M
olly needed him and that was all that mattered.
Ignoring the curious stares of the other patrons, he tossed a fifty-dollar bill on the table to cover their drinks and uneaten appetizer.
“Wait, sweetie.” Kellie laid a hand on his forearm as he tried to leave. “I was hoping to talk more—especially since your friend is gone.”
“Molly is not my friend.” Jake pulled free, then rushed back toward the exit. “She’s the most brilliant and exasperating woman I’ve ever known. And I am not your sweetie. Not anymore.”
Kellie kept pace beside him, her gaze narrowed. “You love her, don’t you?”
“What? No.” Yes. He moved outside and handed his ticket to the valet. “I need to get to the hospital. Go back to Roger Flynn, Kellie. We have nothing left to talk about.”
“But—” Kellie said as his truck swerved up to the curb.
“No. Don’t.” Jake tipped the valet, then started around the front of his vehicle. “I’m over it. Over what happened. Move on, Kellie. Good luck with your career in New York.”
“If you think that woman will give up her life and her show for you, you’re wrong,” Kellie said, lifting her chin. “She’s more like her father than you think. He told me so.”
“Molly is nothing like her father. And you of all people shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Jake yanked open the driver’s side door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got my best friend’s life to save. Safe travels.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HOURS LATER, MOLLY sat in the small office-slash-observation area attached to Bobby’s clean room, going over her patient’s chart for what seemed like the billionth time and trying not to think about what had happened with Jake.
Bobby’s condition had deteriorated rapidly—so much so that they’d put him on a ventilator and into a medically induced coma to give his poor lungs a chance to recuperate.
The staff had finished re-sterilizing the entire clean room again, screening for all outside contaminates—including testing the rubber gloves and the latex tubing of his IVs. He had no piercings, no implants, no metal pins in his body of any kind. Even the sterile solution flowing into his veins to keep him hydrated had been analyzed for allergens. Nothing had been found.
It didn’t make sense.
Molly took a deep breath and stared at the documentation. The only other possible source of the inflammation was an autoimmune disorder, but they’d already screened for those too—multiple times—and the tests had all been negative, as had his bloodwork.
Meaning they were right back where they’d started.
Speaking of right back where you started...
Ugh. Molly’s mind filled with images of Jake’s angry expression, his ice-cold stare, the way he’d sat there while his ex-fiancée had spewed her father’s hurtful words and done nothing.
Logic said being this upset about Jake not caring for her was silly. One whale-watching cruise followed by a night of mind-blowing passion did not a true relationship make. No matter how badly she might have wished it were otherwise.
But her beloved facts and analysis were of little comfort tonight.
Groaning, Molly put her head down on her arms atop the small desk. More tears stung her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. She’d gone from one extreme to the other during her time here, and in the process had blown any chance of a future between her and Jake.
Molly pulled a tissue from the box beside her as moments of their time together flickered across her mind like a sappy movie—the whale-watching cruise, their first kiss in the workout room, the evening at the pub when Jake had all but dragged her home to make love with her.
Gone. Those things were all gone and she was back in her lonely hospital fortress with only the monotonous whoosh and puff of Bobby’s ventilator to keep her company.
Frustrated, Molly tipped her head back and rubbed her eyes.
Bobby’s case. That was what she needed to concentrate on now—not her disastrous love life.
Think, Flynn. Think.
The next step was to do one last full-body CT scan. Go over the films inch by inch to see if they revealed anything previously missed. That would also keep her busy for a while, and stop her from obsessing over her monumental screwup with the man she loved.
She reached for the phone to call Scheduling, then halted. A voice echoed around her—deep, rich, tinged with sadness.
“Hey.”
Jake.
Molly looked around quickly to see where he was, but she was alone. Then she glanced at the small speaker for the PA system nestled into the wall beside the desk. He was talking to Bobby next door. She rose slightly to peer over the sill of the glass window separating the two rooms.
Jake stood near Bobby’s bedside, dressed in a head-to-toe white hazmat suit. Only the upper third of his face was visible through the clear plastic shield in the hood, but the regret in his gaze was evident as he took Bobby’s limp hand in his gloved one.
“I’m so sorry, bud. After all those missions in Kandahar this was never how it was supposed to end. Never. Thank you for saving my life, for shielding me when that IED went off. With all those Taliban creeping through every crack and alleyway and rooftop, armed to the teeth, there’s no way I would’ve made it if you hadn’t been there...”
His words cracked and his brave façade crumbled.
“I’d be dead. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here today, and for that I owe you more than I can ever repay. You don’t like me to bring it up, but you are and always will be a true hero.”
Molly sat back, new memories flooding her mind about the case—Bobby’s comment to Jake about thinking he had to watch over him. Bobby’s hallucinations about people in the walls and ceiling.
“Thank you for saving my life, for shielding me when that IED went off...”
Improvised Explosive Devices were constructed by terrorist cells and made of cheap materials—metal canisters filled with nuts and bolts or ball bearings, packed tight with explosives. She reexamined Bobby’s initial history and physical, taken in the ER.
Activity engaged in prior to dermatitis—polishing team trophies.
Nuts, bolts, ball bearings, trophies—they all had one thing in common.
Metal.
She grabbed the phone on the wall. “Radiology? This is Dr. Flynn. I need to schedule Bobby Templeton for a full-body CT scan.”
After giving the technician her patient’s information, Molly rushed out into the hallway and nearly ran over Jake, who was removing his hazmat suit.
“I know what’s wrong with Bobby.”
He froze, eyes wide. “What?”
“A metal allergy. I’ve got him scheduled for a full-body scan in half an hour.”
“But they’ve already done multiple scans and found nothing.” Jake frowned, tossing the disposable suit in a nearby biohazard bin. “Why would something show up this time?”
“Because this time I know what I’m looking for.”
Molly’s words rushed out in a jumble of excitement, her heart pounding with the thrill of discovery and the fact that Jake wasn’t glaring at her with cool contempt anymore.
“Where was Bobby positioned during the IED explosion?”
Jake’s gaze narrowed. “You were eavesdropping?”
Guilt prickled Molly’s cheeks. She stared at the center of his chest because she couldn’t meet his gaze, knowing how he felt—or didn’t feel—about her. It would hurt more than she could stand.
“I’m sorry I violated your trust. I’m sorry about the leaked footage and about overhearing your private conversation with Bobby. I’m sorry for everything—more than you’ll ever know. But if I’m right we can save your best friend’s life.”
“Molly, I...”
Jake moved closer—close enough for her to catch his warm, comforting scent, mixed with t
he Betadine he’d used to scrub down with earlier, and her knees wanted to buckle from the weight of what she’d lost with him. He lifted his hand as if to caress her cheek, then let it fall to his side as he stepped back again, his expression unreadable.
“One more scan. But if you don’t find anything it’s over. Bobby lives out his last hours in peace.”
Molly gave a small nod. “I’ll do everything in my power to save him. I promise.”
“Right flank.”
“Sorry?” She frowned, meeting his gaze as the elevator doors dinged open.
“You asked what position Bobby was in when the IED exploded. He was leaning over me, with his back to the bomb. Since he was wearing Kevlar armor on his upper body, I’d say your best bet to find something would be in the right flank area.”
* * *
Four hours later Jake sat in his office, staring at the same patient file he’d had open since he’d walked in. He’d long ago finished his documentation, and things in the ER had never been slower. The quiet was enough to drive him bonkers. He’d considered going upstairs to Radiology, to see what Molly had found, but given the current strain between them he’d probably only end up saying or doing something else he regretted.
And when it came to Molly...boy, did he regret.
He regretted reacting like an ass when she’d finally told him about the leaked footage. Regretted sitting there while Kellie repeated Roger Flynn’s vile insults, knowing how awfully Molly’s family had treated her for her differences. Regretted not rushing to Molly’s defense and begging her forgiveness.
Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyes and slumped in his chair, too exhausted to stop images from the past few weeks from flooding his brain. Molly standing up to him at that accident scene. Her surprisingly strong punches in the workout room. Their first kiss...
God, that kiss.
She was all heat and light and sweetness—the way she’d cajoled him out of his depression after that gunshot victim passed away. The way she’d given herself so beautifully to him when they’d made love...
One Night with the Army Doc Page 16
