Dr. Fellow (Midtown Memorial #3)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Walker

I wipe a few excess drops of Sweetwater 420 from my stubble-covered chin as the lively neighborhood bar hums around us. We opted to sit on the patio tonight because the January air is unseasonably warm—and by warm, I mean it’s in the low fifties and we’re huddled beneath a space heater.

“You might be slower at chugging beer than you are at throwing stitches,” I comment, unable to help myself from making the dig.

Beau’s gaze narrows on mine as he slowly glugs down the rest of his beer, his overly friendly brown eyes shining with mirth despite the shitty day that we had.

One of our easiest cases was riddled with complications, and instead of using it as a teaching opportunity, I took my frustrations—both personally and professionally—out on him.

But what did the big lunatic do afterward?

He found me in the hallway, clapped me on the back, and reminded me of our plan to get drinks tonight. Sometimes I genuinely wonder if he has a screw loose in his head considering the rest of my interns know better than to even look in my direction when I get like this.

“I’m still faster than the others though.” He shoots me a megawatt grin and signals our waiter for another round. “And much better looking too.”

I shake my head, concealing a smile—the guy really is talented, even if he’s arrogant as hell. Out of the four orthopedic surgery interns who have been following me around since July, Beau is easily my favorite. Not just because he’s a goon, but because he’s taken the time to get to know me when I didn’t deserve it.

Spending upwards of a hundred hours a week with someone for six months forces you to learn a thing or two about each other. I usually try to stick to surface-level pleasantries, but he’s taken our professional relationship and thrown it out the window. And as much as I enjoy giving him shit, I really am thankful for his friendship.

“You sure you’re down for another round?” I ask, glancing at my phone to check the time. At this point, we’ve already been here for several hours, and while I have nowhere to be, I’m sure he’s sick of my grumpy ass at this point.

“Fuck yeah I’m down,” Beau drawls, his southern accent becoming more pronounced as the night wears on. Two frosty glasses and a full pitcher are placed in front of us, and he pours us both fresh beers before taking his and holding it up in a toast. “We’re celebrating tonight, dude.”

I arch my brow at him because it sure as shit doesn’t feel like we should be celebrating anything after my atrocious fuckup in the OR this morning. Sure, everything worked out in the end, but at this point I should be delivering consistent results, not missing something even an intern would have caught. And considering my board exams are only six months away, my mistake doesn’t exactly put me in a celebratory mood.

Beau answers my unspoken question, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “I heard you accepted the sports fellowship at University Hospital. Do you have any idea how fucking cool that is?”

My beer starts to turn sour in my stomach as shame floods through me. The University Hospital fellowship would be cool—impressive even—if it hadn’t come at such a huge cost.

“Sure do,” I comment dryly, letting out a long exhale as I try to rid myself of the emotion lodged in my throat.

“What made you finally give in? You love me so much that you couldn’t fathom leaving Atlanta yet?” He runs his fingers through his light-brown waves, clearly amused with himself as he strokes his oversized ego.

“Something like that,” I reply, keeping my tone cool and controlled with the hope that he’ll drop it.

I close my eyes, savoring the hoppy taste of my beer as the bar buzzes around us. When I open them, Beau is lounging back against his worn, wooden chair, attention glued to the naked ring finger of my left hand.

We both know that he won’t say anything about it—he’ll happily sit in silence until I bridge the gap and come clean. This isn’t our first rodeo, and he’s about as stubborn as a prize-winning bull.

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the sticky table between us. “Got anything you want to ask me?” I ask, trying my hardest to make him uncomfortable.

His gaze flicks up to meet mine as he takes a deliberate sip of his beer, allowing the silence to stretch between us just long enough for the question to hang heavy in the air.

He finally shrugs.

“Don’t ask. Don’t tell. That’s the motto I live by these days.” His lips curl into a thin line like he’s trying to hide a smirk. “Just ask Parker.”

I can’t help the slight chuckle that escapes me.

While Beau was in med school, he spent a year shadowing Parker, which forced them to become close from sheer proximity. At this point though, Parker might say that they’re a little too close, considering Beau is now both living with, and dating, his sister.

“You’re such a little shit.”

“You calling me small?” he challenges, purposely flexing his massive bicep as he picks up his glass again. “I may be two inches shorter than you, but trust me, I’m big where it counts.” He winks at me and tips back his beer to chug it down.

I follow suit, releasing a long, satisfied exhale when I finish. It’s a damn good thing neither one of us has to work tomorrow, because at this rate we’ll be staggering out of this bar completely wasted.

“You want to talk about it?” Beau asks softly.

His attention drifts back to my naked ring finger.The finger that’s been surrounded by a thick gold band for the past five years of my life. The finger that I thought would be surrounded by a thick gold band until the day I died. The finger that has only been bare for a week because even though my wife left me a month ago, I wasn’t willing to admit to anyone, let alone myself, that I had failed.

Pathetic.

I force a laugh, more out of exhaustion than amusement, and rake my fingers through my dark, finger-length hair. “It’s all good. I’ve talked about it enough in therapy.”

His mouth drops open dramatically. “How could you? I thought I was your go-to therapist.”

“Too peppy,” I state simply, though that’s the farthest thing from the truth.

Because the truth is that Beau was there for me when I finally emerged from the surging whitewater rapids of residency and recognized that my marriage was in trouble last fall. He gave me space to talk through my issues, somehow sensing that I needed a friend even when I didn’t want one. Unfortunately, even his admittedly good advice didn’t matter in the end. Our relationship was broken beyond repair, and my efforts were too little, too late—Lane had run into the arms of another man who could give her everything I couldn’t.

The funny thing is, I don’t even blame her for what she did. Throughout residency, it never felt like we were on the same wavelength. While I had an entire life inside the hospital that consumed my every waking moment for years, she had a life in the real world that was just as full—without me in it.

Beau snorts at my critique. “What would you have preferred? If I told you there was no hope at all, and that you shouldn’t bother trying?”

“At least you would have been right for once in your life.”

“So you took the fellowship,” he states, grabbing the half-full pitcher to refill our glasses.

“I took the fellowship,” I confirm, my voice hollow.

The statement hangs in the air like a thousand shards of failure prickling my soul. Accepting the year-long sports medicine fellowship was never my original plan. Yeah, it’s incredibly prestigious and something I’ve worked for my entire career. But I was supposed to give it all up for her. I had promised to give it all up for her—to make a sacrifice for once in our relationship and put her first.

So forgive me for not feeling like I have anything to be excited about. The fellowship only reminds me that I’m a failure.

What a thing to celebrate . . .

“Well, it’s her loss,” Beau declares, clinking his glass against mine with a heavy hand. “She’s going to be so pissed when you meet all those famous athletes.”

“I think you’re probably more jealous than she is,” I reply. “She hates sports.”

“God,” he groans painfully, drawing out the word. “I knew I was right about her. She’s Satan’s mistress, and I hope she chokes on his fiery ball sack.”

I let out a reluctant laugh because he might be a pain in my ass, but the man knows how to lighten up a conversation. “Did you even meet her?”

“No,” he confirms, shaking his tipsy head. “But it doesn’t matter because she hurt my Walker-boo-boo. She’s as good as dead to me.”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch. Not because I wish my future ex-wife any ill-will, but because I appreciate my friend’s blind loyalty—it’s refreshing.

“You’re lucky I like you. If anyone else called me that, they’d be smacked upside the head.”

Beau snorts, staring at the black ink on my left arm. “You know you don’t scare me right? I mean, the tattoo sleeve really gives you that don’t fuck with me, intimidating vibe. But I know you’re just a big softie.”

He pauses and pulls out his phone to answer a text. “Plus, this is payback for that stupid-ass ‘Buff’ nickname of yours. You know it’s caught on, and everyone in the OR calls me that now? I swear to God, I’m the butt of every joke with the attendings.”

I shrug my shoulders. “You already were the butt of every joke, bud. ”

Beau’s eyes flick to the parking lot, his usual swagger giving way to an almost guilty hesitation. Tracking his gaze, I see Parker Winters making his way through the line of cars toward our table.

Parker and I have known each other for several years because he was a year ahead of me in residency, though he specialized in general surgery rather than orthopedics like myself. I respect him a ton, and have always thought that we were similar, at least in terms of our personalities. But until Beau brought us together last fall, our relationship was strictly professional, filled with case communication or the occasional gripe about some new departmental policy. It’s been surprisingly nice getting to know him a little better outside of the hospital these past few months.

I glance back at Beau who grimaces, as if in a silent apology for inviting him to our night out. To be honest though, I don’t mind—I could use the distraction. And considering Parker’s appearance, something tells me that he could too.

I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. Typically, Parker is the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected, even when it comes to his life outside of the hospital. But tonight he looks like a completely different person. The expensive, tailored outfits I’m used to seeing have been replaced by a Yale long-sleeve T-shirt and tattered black sweatpants. His dark-brown hair is tousled, like he’s run his fingers through it hundreds of times today, and his jaw is covered in at least a week’s worth of untamed beard growth. In summary, he looks like shit.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding into the open chair beside Beau. “Lap chole took a little longer than expected because some idiot intern nicked an artery. You guys staying a little longer?”

Beau crosses his meaty arms and turns to face his friend. “One, don’t hate on the interns. We’re trying our best,” he argues. A sly smirk forms on his lips like he’s about to poke the bear. “Two, we’re here for as long as the guest of honor wants. I owe him a fuck ton of alcohol for the extra shit he had to do after your tantrum, brother .”

He enunciates the last word, causing Parker’s mouth to set into a firm line. “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

Unbeknownst to anyone, Beau was dating Parker’s sister for a while in secret. I’m still not sure exactly how the details came to light, nor do I really care, but Parker was pissed when he found out. He told the entire department that Beau withheld his type 1 diabetes diagnosis from a pre-employment physical, and claimed that the omission put a patient at risk during a case.

Fortunately, nothing came of Parker’s outburst in the end. But because Beau was my intern at the time, it resulted in a ton of paperwork and conversations with administration that I would have rather not had.

Did I think Parker’s reaction was warranted? No—it was childish as fuck. But he found me the next day to apologize, and we moved on like adults. It’s water under the bridge now.

“What?” Beau muses, his broad chest heaving with suppressed laughter. “You told me if I ever hurt Claire, I’d be dead meat. Well, I happen to like my meat, and so does your sister, which means that I could be your brother one day. I’m just stating the facts here.”

Parker’s stormy blue eyes find mine, searching for an ally.

“Buff,” I grunt, giving him a warning glare. “Get your ass up and grab us another pitcher. My glass is empty.”

Beau rolls his eyes. Pushing back from the table, he bows exaggeratedly and says, “Yes, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

“A fucking clue,” I shoot back .

Parker lets out a strained chuckle as Beau makes his way to the bar.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. “Been a rough couple of weeks, and the moron doesn’t know when to quit. He really is perfect for my sister.”

I get the sense that there’s more going on with Parker than a simple frustration over his best friend dating his sister. But I have no idea what it could be because the guy seems to have everything. He’s a well-respected junior attending, comes from a fuck ton of money, and is engaged to an incredible woman. From an outside perspective, he won the damn lottery.

“You okay?” I ask hesitantly.

He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who enjoys sharing personal shit, so I wouldn’t blame him if he told me to fuck right off. It’s what I would do if I were in his shoes. But if the litany of therapy I’ve been in since December has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes it’s not good to keep things bottled up.

Parker exhales, shifting his attention to the crowd. I don’t push him because I understand his unspoken words all too well, and we sit in comfortable silence as the bar noise drowns out whatever thoughts are ricocheting through his mind.

A few moments later Beau returns, balancing two pitchers and an extra glass in his arms. “Peace offering,” he says, setting them down and pouring out three drinks.

Parker looks up to meet his gaze, a faint smile flickering on his lips. “Thanks, brother .”

Beau’s eyes light up and before taking a seat, he claps Parker on the back and says, “Rolls right off the tongue. Doesn’t it?”

“Who knows . . . at this rate, you’ll probably get married before I do. ”

Parker’s comment feels like it’s out of left field because his engagement party was only a few weeks ago, and at the time they seemed incredibly happy. So happy, in fact, that I had to excuse myself from their love bubble because it made me feel physically ill watching them cuddle on the balcony.

All of the amusement on Beau’s face fades as he glances at me, and then at Parker. “Hey man, he doesn’t mean anything. He’s in the past.”

Parker winces, staring into his full glass like it’s a crystal ball. “Right.”

I have no idea what they’re talking about so I sip my beer quietly and let them work through their issues.

“What did Cass say?” Beau asks tentatively.

Parker’s jaw clenches so hard that it looks like he might crack a tooth. “After she ran out of my office like a coward?” he snorts. “Nothing. We haven’t spoken about it since.”

“Hmmm.” Beau leans back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee, just like a damn therapist. Honestly, if he wasn’t so talented in the OR, I’d encourage him to go into psychiatry—he clearly enjoys this kind of thing. “Have you talked to Weston?”

Parker’s nostrils flare at the name. “Not sure why that’s my responsibility.”

Beau continues, “I heard he left his fellowship and accepted the open attending position in general surgery.”

They must be talking about Weston Southerland. He graduated residency with Parker and moved to Chicago for a trauma surgery fellowship. We got to know each other decently well over the past few years, and I always thought he was a solid guy, maybe a little too cocky for my liking, but we’re surgeons—we’re all cocky.

“Good for him,” Parker sneers, finally taking a long swig of his cold beer. “Bastard gets everything he wants, doesn’t he? Including my fiancée. They should just go ride off into the damn sunset together.”

“That’s out of pocket,” Beau argues, his voice tense in a way I’ve never heard before. “Cass has no intention of doing that, which you would know if you would just fucking talk to her, rather than avoiding the conversation and working your dick off.”

“We all work our dicks off,” Parker corrects.

“Listen, you have every right to be angry. Hell, I’d be angry too. But holding onto that anger, especially without knowing every side of the story, is only doing more harm than good. There’s more to it, I’m sure.”

“Oh, you’re sure?” Parker scoffs. His tongue momentarily darts across his lower lip as he narrows his eyes in challenge. “Because all I’m sure of, is that a little over a year ago my best friend of almost a decade single-handedly ruined both my surgical career and my relationship in a week. And then, when I finally pulled my shit together, my fiancée had the audacity to see him again and keep it from me. That’s what I’m sure of.”

I don’t give a damn about petty work rumors and drama, so I doubt I know the full extent of the situation. But when Parker was in his chief year, there was some sort of incident with the research he and Wes were doing. It ultimately cost him his fellowship, which is how he ended up here as a general surgery attending after residency.As for his comment about his relationship, I don’t have a clue what he’s talking about.

“Cass wouldn’t—”

“You know Wes was her first?” Parker interrupts, shooting icy blue daggers at Beau. “First kiss. First fuck. First love .” He practically spits the last word, tilting his head back to focus on the night sky. “God, I’m so tired of constantly competing with him. What’s the fucking point?”

He exhales like he’s been holding on to those words for far too long.

Beau glances at me uncertainly, like he’s not exactly sure how to respond to his best friend.

I have no skin in the game here, but I’ve learned a thing or two recently about relationships. If I can help someone avoid the same mistakes that I made, maybe my shitstorm of a life will be worth it.

“The point is that she loves you ,” I start, the words coming out more tersely than I intend. “So she loved someone first? Who cares? She loves you now.”

Parker’s eyes are soft and glassy as they meet mine. I’m not sure why he’s listening to me instead of Beau, but I take it as a sign to continue.

“The point is that you have something people spend their entire lives searching for—a true partner. A partner who understands your life and your job in a way that not many people do. A partner who sees you in a way that nobody else does.”

That’s something I remember vividly from the engagement party—the way Cassidy looked at him. Parker isn’t exactly the most likable guy in the world, and she was staring at him with rose-colored lenses on, like he was someone completely different than the person we’ve all gotten to know.

I don’t think he realizes how unconditionally she loves him. And if he doesn’t figure it out soon, he’s going to end up just like me—alone .

“Listen, I know I’m not the guy to be doling out relationship advice,” I offer with a humorless laugh. “But I do know this—the only person you’re competing with right now is yourself. And you’re never going to win until you get off your pompous ass, and start prioritizing your relationship.”

Beau grins at me like a proud brother, but I ignore him and take a sip of my beer.

“Just trust me on this one.”