Chapter 4
Patrick
Nothing really sheds light on how lonely you are quite like being wheeled into the operating room for major surgery and having no one in the waiting room when you come out.
If I come out.
As expected, Liam couldn’t get away. We’re not as distant with each other as we once were, but neither are we on a level where I’d expect him to drop everything he has going on just to be here on the off chance something goes wrong.
He called me this morning, and that was sufficient.
The OR staff help me onto the table, and I try to get as comfortable as one can while also knowing I may die here, when the OR door suddenly crashes open.
Of course, Cain would make a grand entrance. I close my eyes, trying to keep my erratic heart rate down, not wanting the last face I see to be his, but when he moves next to my makeshift bed, my eyes fly open as if he had pried them that way with his fingers.
His surgical mask hangs around his neck and a clear face shield is pushed up on his head.
Guess he’s expecting a mess.
Suddenly, this whole thing is real, and I’m oddly glad his face is the last one I’ll see. At least he’s familiar to me. Besides, maybe if I don’t come out of this, I’ll have the chance to see Emilia again, too.
That thought makes me smile, and I swear the corners of Cain’s lips quirk. Egotistical asshole probably thinks my smile is for him.
“We’re going to start pushing the anesthesia now,” he informs me. “Count backwards from ten for me.” His voice has been untouched by age, and as he issues orders around the room, I forget to count and focus solely on his voice.
Suddenly, there’s movement next to my head, and I swear to God, I hear Cain say, “I promise I’ll make it good for you, Kitten.”
And then it’s lights out.
When I wake up, everything is a blur. My vision. My brain. My memory of the last twenty-four hours. And also, it hurts to inhale.
Monitors next to my bed begin beeping loudly as soon as I move, and a nurse comes racing into my room, followed by a man wearing a short white lab coat.
“Good evening, Mr. Miller. I’m Garrett, Dr. Rosemont’s PA. How are you feeling?”
I try not to acknowledge the disappointment welling inside me that Cain didn’t come check on me himself, but honestly, did I really expect him to?
He made it clear I was just another patient to him, but I don’t stay upset long because the man literally saved my life. I always knew he’d fulfill his dream of becoming a surgeon. Cain’s devotion to something is unparalleled once he sinks his teeth in.
I guess we’re the same in that regard, but that’s where the similarities between us start and end.
“Fine,” I rasp, turning to look out the window. It’s dusk, and the clock above the door tells me it’s five-thirty.
The physician’s assistant types something into the rolling computer and hands me a cup of water with a straw from a little table beside my bed.
“Have a small sip. Take your time. Swallowing can feel difficult at first,” he instructs.
I manage the water okay, and Garrett goes about checking my monitors before gently pulling my gown open to peer at my incision.
The thing is hideous.
For the first time since arriving, I’m actually embarrassed to face Cain, even though this needed to be done, and it was his blade that left this mark.
“Everything looks good. We’ll keep an eye on the incision to make sure it heals up nicely, but I don’t see anything to indicate that you’re prone to infection, so hopefully it’ll be an easy road.
I’m just finishing up rounds for the night, but our team is on call, so if there are any emergencies, the nurses will notify us immediately. Try to get some rest.”
Getting rest is next to impossible unless they knock me out.
Breathing hurts, and I’m not allowed to roll onto my side, so my ass is sore from having to stay on my back.
Coughing and sneezing are both definitely out of the question, and I can’t put any weight on my right arm, so trying to adjust my position is a bitch.
I give up around ten p.m. and turn the TV on when my door opens, and someone steps inside.
I assume it’s another nurse because, bless their hearts, they make their rounds every hour and ask their questions—another reason I can’t actually rest.
But as he lifts his gaze to mine, Cain’s familiar dark eyes greet me.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Rosemont?”
My tone is one hundred percent sarcastic, but one corner of his mouth twitches at my use of his formal title.
He likes that.
I try to pretend that knowledge doesn’t excite me, but the fucking heart monitor I’m hooked to gives me away.
Cain’s eyes fly to the damn thing, and his grin widens.
“It’s the scrubs, isn’t it?” His joke intensifies the pain in my chest, and I wince. “Oh, come on, that was funny.”
I stare at him blankly. There’s nothing I can do about the rising heart rate, but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of knowing he still gets to me.
Except, fuck, all I ever wanted was to be with him, belong to him, and I can’t believe we’re in the same room right now after all these years.
He moves closer and stands by the edge of my bed.
With one hand braced on the collapsible rail, he brings his other hand to my gown, where I’d retied it after Garrett’s visit.
Cain pulls on one of the strings, untying the bow, and the monitor begins steadily climbing, the peaks of my heartbeats getting higher and closer together.
“You’re really determined to test my handiwork, aren’t you?” Cain says with a smirk I wasn’t sure he was able to pull off anymore.
“I’d argue that’s your fault,” I reply, dying on the inside.
His fingers graze my flesh as he pulls the gown open, first on one side, then the other.
The machine might as well be sending him a direct email letting him know that he still gets under my skin. Thank God there seems to be enough medication in my system that at least I’m not sporting an erection.
“It’s been a while,” Cain says, catching me off guard. “I’m shocked you still respond to me like this.”
“Are you?” I deadpan. I won’t feed into his ego. Not anymore.
Cain and I were never gentle lovers; the spark between us was greedy, demanding, all-consuming, and hellbent on destroying us both, which is why I had to walk away…
and even that almost killed me. Continuing my arrangement with Cain would have meant being at his beck and call.
Nights alone when I needed him, and times of being summoned when I wanted to be alone.
I’ve never been able to tell him no, and that wasn’t sustainable, no matter how much I wanted it to be.
He simply shrugs a shoulder in response, making me huff a short laugh, but I wince immediately.
“Ow, fuck.”
Cain messes with the buttons on my bed railing, and suddenly, the bed begins reclining.
“I don’t want to lie flat, it hurts worse,” I protest.
“Relax,” Cain growls. “I’m not making it flat. You’re sitting too upright, and your heart is having to work harder. If you can’t keep your heart rate under control, then I’m going to lock your bed settings.”
“Well, stop fucking touching me, and I’ll be fine!”
He holds his hands in the air, but now I’m pissed, and my heart rate begins climbing again.
He arches a brow at me. Is that so?
“You’re still a dick, I see.”
“What’s that? You’d like to see my dick? That’s hardly appropriate, Mr. Miller,” he taunts.
“Can you leave? Please? I really don’t need this right now. I just want to recover, go the hell home, return to my life, and forget you exist,” I plead, exhausted by his presence already.
“Your life? What life would that be? Not your dating life. And I’m sorry to hear about your late wife.”
My head whips toward him.
“How do you know about…” The light bulb goes off. “My medical chart.”
He nods.
“Well, feel free to gloat over my loss, but would you consider doing it elsewhere? I was ordered to rest.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
This time, I hold my hand up in his face, and to my utter shock, he stops speaking.
“Just leave, Dr. Rosemont. You’ve done what I needed you to do, and for that, I’m grateful, but this interaction is over. We have been over for a long time.”
I’m about to think that for once in his life, Cain is going to let me have the last word, until he turns around at the door and says, “We aren’t the kind of story that ends, Kitten.”
Ten minutes later, I’m being pumped full of morphine because I’m experiencing the agony caused by fighting tears determined to break free, even though my chest has already been cracked open.