The Doctor’s Simple Life (Love Heals All Wounds #3)

13. Reece

CHAPTER 13

REECE

THREE DAYS LATER

M y hands are shaking as we step out of the hospital. It’s been a long while since I had to be involved with something like that.

“Here,” says Sienna, holding out a coffee with a fatigued smile. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. I take a sip and say nothing else. We sit down on the bench outside the main front doors and say nothing together, drinking our coffee and remembering that we need to be glad to be alive. This job really drives that hard into you sometimes.

Especially on a day like today.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’m glad we didn’t have any fatalities, thank God.”

“Me too,” I say, nodding.

Most of our night shifts here have been quiet and dull. Recently, with our improving friendship, or whatever it is we are, they’ve almost been fun, full of bickering and banter and puzzle books that she’s way better than me at.

I’d almost forgotten that tragedy can strike anywhere, at any time, to anyone.

It was a four-car pileup on the highway, a nasty accident that had ambulances flooding in because we were the closest hospital. Fortunately, most of the people involved had superficial injuries, but I haven’t done that much real work in a long time.

I haven’t seen so many close calls and lucky escapes since I was an intern.

But as Sienna says, fortunately, everyone was okay. I sewed a hell of a lot of cuts closed and treated some kids to Band-Aids and candy, but the busyness was mostly due to the number of people brought in. One person was rushed into the operating theater, but I wouldn’t have been invited, even in my own hospital.

I’m too rusty on that kind of surgery to be necessary.

Even though I’m exhausted, I don’t think I can sleep. My nerves are shaking like out-of-tune guitar strings. I almost want to shiver, even though I’m not cold. It’s a nice morning, actually. It’s warm without being oppressive, and now that the sun is peeking up over the horizon, it’s shining a golden layer over everything.

It makes things feel just a little better.

“Let’s get breakfast,” says Sienna, and that’s how I know she’s tired. Usually, she makes some sort of comment about how much she really doesn’t want to be seen with me when she suggests stuff like this. But right now, she just smiles.

“Breakfast?” I say, frowning. “Is anything even open around here this early?”

“Yes,” she pouts. So clearly she’s not too tired to be completely nice to me. “We’re going to go to the breakfast diner, and you’ll see the best pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.”

I hum dubiously. “Okay.”

We get a cab to the diner, and I have to keep my mouth clamped shut when we step into the place to stop it from dropping wide open in horror. It’s hard to tell exactly how old this building is, but it’s got a distinctly fifties vibe, and it’s falling apart more than a little. The lettering on the sign is faded and cracked, and the parking lot looks like it’s never been repainted.

The glass in the door is boarded up, and I wonder how long it’s been since it broke. Sienna grins wide at the server who takes us to our seats, but all I can think about is the peeling red leather, the dimple from a hundred behinds, a table that has that kind of pattern that stops you seeing all the dirt on it. Plus, the floor tiles clearly come from the seventies and haven’t been replaced since.

“Please tell me they do good coffee in here,” I say because that’s about the only thing that can cheer me up.

But Sienna isn’t listening. She’s too busy waving at the waitress and smiling at the other patrons. Yet again, we’ve come to a place where she knows everyone and I don’t know anyone.

Somehow, whenever I spend time with her, I end up feeling so helpless, so out of my depth in a way that’s so unfamiliar to me that it scares me. I’m not used to being the nobody. It doesn’t suit me.

The waitress hurries over to us. “Bad night?” she asks Sienna, ignoring me.

“There was a big accident. We were backed up all night, run off our feet trying to help.”

“Nothing too bad, I hope,” says the waitress, pouring us both a coffee. I stir creamer into mine without a word.

Sienna shrugs. “Pretty bad car pileup. No fatalities, but we could both do with a stack of the best pancakes you’ve got.”

“Coming right up, hon. And can I get you anything else, sir? We do the early bird special for medical professions. And for Sienna’s friend, after a hard night, you both get coffee on the house from us.”

“Thank you,” I say, startled at finally being acknowledged. “That’s very kind.”

“You guys do such an important job,” she says, batting her eyelids at me. She’s pretty, but I’m too tired and freaked out imagining the health and safety standards in the kitchen to react. “This is the least we can do.”

As soon as she’s gone, I lean over the table to Siena and say, “Are you sure this place is as good as you say it is?”

She shoots me a harsh look. “The guys in here all know everyone from the hospital really well. This is the go-to place for hospital staff after rough nights or long days. It’s the restaurant in town open twenty-four hours a day, and they’re just as vital to the community as we are. So we’re damn well going to tip them good, and you’re going to say thank you for everything you get.”

“Hey now,” I say, pouting. “I might be an ass, but I’m not rude.”

She shrugs. “At least you’re self-aware.”

I open my mouth and close it again.

She shut me down so concisely that I can’t even think of a good way to start an argument back up with her.

Instead, I drink my coffee, and almost to my disappointment, it’s really, really good. “You’re sure this is free refills?”

“Louisa was being nice to make you feel good. All hospital staff get free coffee in here, including the janitors. It’s their whole thing.”

What feels like just seconds later, the pancakes arrive. Despite the lightning speed, the huge stack of golden, fluffy circles looks so, so good, and I feel my stomach rumble at the sight of them.

Sienna bites her lip in an attempt not to giggle, but I’m tired and hungry and in no mood to pretend to be mad when she laughs at me.

Screw it, I think, and pour a waterfall of syrup over the stack before taking a bite.

God damn. These are the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.

But I frown despite this. I’m not going to give Sienna the satisfaction of a smile.

I tuck my feet under the chair, half expecting a rat to scamper out or something, and cut into the rest of the pancakes. But no matter how much I might want to keep my face neutral and calm, I can’t help the smile that breaks out as I keep eating.

They’re fluffy and soft, and the syrup is perfectly sweet without being sickly. The fruit on the side of the plate is fresh and juicy, and after last night, I can’t think of anything better than this.

“Damn,” I say, then don’t say anything else as I eat the entire stack way more quickly than I should.

Sienna giggles. “See, I told you. Just because we don’t have Michelin stars out here doesn’t mean we can’t be good, too.”

“I didn’t say that,” I say, jumping on the defense even if I probably have said something like that to her.

“No, but you’ve thought it, haven’t you?” she says as I open my mouth to keep defending myself, but she shakes her head to stop me from speaking. “It’s okay. I know you don’t think much of us. You don’t have to keep it a secret. God knows you haven’t so far.”

Again, I open my mouth and shut it, not quite sure how to respond. It’s true. I have been dismissive of this town, probably too much so. And if you’d asked me three weeks ago if I thought that the food in a town like this could be any good, I would have laughed in your face.

I guess this is why they say travel broadens the mind.

It makes you think about things that you never really considered before. Makes you pay attention in a way that you probably always should have done but never felt like you needed to.

It’s giving me a whole new perspective that I never so much as imagined I could have before.

The waitress comes around again and fills up our coffees. “Good enough for you?” she asks, and I feel a heat rise in my face. Sienna smirks at her. No doubt she’s been gossiping with everyone around town about what an awful person I am. No doubt everyone thinks I’m the worst.

“They’re great,” I say. “Thank you.”

I make eye contact with Sienna, and she gives me a look I can’t decode. It almost feels like another challenge.

“They’re really great, Louisa,” says Sienna. “Tell Cindy thanks from us.”

Louisa grins, and her blond ponytail bobs behind her head. She has dazzling green eyes and white teeth, and for just a fleeting second, I let my eyes run down her body, taking in her not-insignificant bust and long, smooth legs.

And then Sienna looks at me again, and I almost feel ashamed of myself.

Not that we’re on a date or anything, and not that being on a date has ever stopped me from looking at other women before, but somehow it feels wrong to be eyeing up Sienna’s friend while she’s sitting right there.

“Just wave me over if you want more coffee, okay?” says Louisa, grinning again.

“Sure thing,” I say, watching her go. Then I turn my attention back to Sienna. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

She narrows her eyes a fraction, then lets a small smile onto her face. “You’re welcome.”

We don’t say much else as we eat. There isn’t much else to say.

But even when I get home, her comments about what I must think of the town echo around my head. Does she really think that badly of me?

Do I still think that badly of myself, or have I really changed into someone new?