Chapter 8
brOOKS
H ow many unanswered texts does it take before I snap, drive across town to track down Delta Jacobs and drag her back to my office for medical treatment?
Brooks: I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but the possible infection needs to be checked immediately. I emailed your case to one of my partners, Jenna Walters. She can come in out of hours to see you today.
Brooks: I’m so sorry for everything. Please don’t put this off because of me.
Brooks: Jenna said you never called. If you want to see someone else not associated with my practice, I understand, but at least let me know where, so I can at least look into them for you.
Brooks: Please talk to me. I’m going out of my mind, Delta. I’m sorry.
Brooks: Delta, you can’t fuck around with this. If I don’t hear from you by tonight, I’ll see you at Blue Pike in the morning.
I stare down at the string of unanswered texts, dread, and regret twisting sickeningly inside me. I sent the last of them before I left for the hospital this morning after yet another restless night, and my day has been too busy to check for a response until now.
Mindlessly, I take a bite of the sandwich, setting it down on the cafeteria table.
I hadn’t been bluffing when I said I’d go, but despite not hearing a word from him in the wake of Delta’s appointment, I have a feeling that River didn’t take my perceived betrayal so placidly.
There’s a very good chance he’s banned me from the property.
I even went so far as to look up Delta’s home address in her chart, breaking about a dozen privacy laws in the process, and a quick internet search confirmed that it’s located in one of the rich, gated neighborhoods at the edge of town. Another dead end.
“Paging Dr. Harrison to the E.R. Dr. Harrison to the E.R.”
My shoulders sag as I gaze down at the single bite taken out of my turkey sandwich, mentally cursing myself for ever thinking medical school was a good idea.
It’s been one of those days. As a private practice physician, I don’t typically round at the local hospital.
Unfortunately, one of my colleagues is out on maternity leave, and all the orthopedic surgeons in the area are pitching in to cover for her.
The chaotic unpredictability of the hospital environment always grated on me, and returning to it after over three years of regular scheduling, a full staff to boss around, and a mini fridge in my office, hasn’t been pleasant.
Now, fresh off a weekend where I did little more than stew in guilt and self-loathing while obsessively monitoring my phone for a message from Delta, this entire day has been bordering on unbearable.
Abandoning my sandwich, I start toward the other end of the hospital, my mood plummeting with every step.
If I’m lucky, it’ll be a simple fracture.
I can ship the patient off for X-rays, steal a few minutes to eat, and make it down to the OR for the torn Achilles that came in this morning.
Then, after work, I can try to think of a better way to intercept Delta.
It’s a pretty feeble hope, and the moment I push open the door to the ER, I know I’m never going to see that sandwich again.
The hall is a mess of harried doctors and nurses ducking in and out of doorways, patients being wheeled around, and a drunk guy in a hospital gown yelling for someone to bring him a beer.
A nerve in my eyelid spasms.
“You paged me?” I ask the charge nurse, who’s sitting at the desk near the door, typing furiously with a stack of urine samples beside her keyboard.
She barely spares me a glance before continuing whatever she was doing. “We had a snowboarder airlifted in about half an hour ago, post-traumatic head injury. Pritchett is evaluating her, but your name is all over her chart, and he thought you’d like to know.”
No.
It feels like my entire world has narrowed down to a single point. The chaos of the ER has died away, and all I can think about is finding a way around this horrible new reality. “Name?” I demand, my fingers biting into the edge of the countertop.
It’s not Delta .
It’s not.
The nurse frowns, her eyes darting over the screen rapidly. “They’ve got her in bay 12, let’s see… Oh, here she is. Delta Jacobs. Birthdate, December tenth—” but the rest of her words are lost to me, because I’m already running.
I thought I knew fear before this moment, but it was nothing compared to the visceral, overwhelming terror gripping me now. How many times have I laid awake at night, worrying I would get this call? I should be prepared for this, but I’m not.
Delta’s hurt. The words are blaring through my mind like a fucking fire alarm, but I still can’t quite believe they’re true.
It has to be a mistake. It has to be someone else. Anyone else.
The doors to bay 12 are open, but when I skid to a halt in front of the room, the place where the bed should be is empty.
Three grave-faced men in identical black snowboard jackets are clustered together, completely silent.
All of them look up as I enter, and the worried, tense expression on River Jacob’s face makes my whole soul plummet through the linoleum floor.
I’ve never seen him worried about her.
“What the hell happened?” I snarl, tearing my gaze from River to the two men by his side, each of them older, male versions of Delta—her brothers.
The younger of the two, Lake, I think, glances at his father and then back to me before responding in a low, strained voice.
“She went in for a frontside 1080. It’s nothing.
She’s done it a million times. She landed it fine, but then she just…
” He looks at the floor, his chest heaving, and I can fill in what he’s not saying on my own.
My girl went down. Hard.
I round on River, fury rising hot and fast inside me.
I have never once told off the family member of a patient, even if they were the reason their loved one ended up on my operating table.
I’m a surgeon. It’s my job to fix their bodies, not whatever hurt them.
This is different, though. This is Delta , and River has put his champion snowboarder’s career before his daughter’s health, over and over again.
He did this.
“I told you. I fucking told you, ” I snarl, lunging forward to jab a finger into the center of his chest. I’m taller than him, but not by much, and I stumble when he shoves me back.
He’s shaken, but his pride is obviously still intact because River’s expression goes from worried to livid in seconds. “Get the hell out of this room. You’re never treating my daughter again. DJ knows her limits . If she didn’t respect them, that’s on her !”
I lunge forward, but this time Lake is prepared and catches my chest, yanking me back. His distraction ends up costing River, though, when his eldest son delivers the blow I wanted to throw myself.
“Fuck you!” roars Bay, towering over his father as River clutches his bleeding nose against the wall.
“ Bullshit, she knows her limits. Bullshit, she knows when to stop. She has no idea when to stop! You never gave her a choice. You bullied and shamed and forced her into this, and look where it’s got her. ”
“Was she conscious? Talking?” I demand before River can recover enough to start throwing punches of his own, looking to Lake, who’s watching his brother and father with a grave, set expression.
He turns to look at me, and my heart wrenches as I meet his eyes and see they’re the precise shade of gray as Delta’s. “She was in and out. Really confused.” His expression crumples. “She’ll be okay, right? People get into shit like this all the time?—”
The room is spinning around me, and realize it’s because I’ve forgotten to breathe.
I don’t have any information at all to base this crippling fear on, but every second that passes makes me more terrified.
I didn’t stop her, I didn’t do enough, and now the woman I love is somewhere in this hospital.
What if I never see her again? What if I knew something like this could happen, and I didn’t prevent her from walking out of my office by any means necessary?
What if she fucking dies?
Bay turns away from his bleeding father to look at me, and his eyes are narrowed on my hospital badge. “Wait— Brooks? Brooks Harrison?”
I blink at him, momentarily distracted. “ Yes?”
There’s something accusatory in Bay’s stare. “She kept saying your name… When we got here, she kept saying it .”
My stomach rolls so violently that, for a moment, I’m positive that I’m going to vomit my single bite of sandwich all over the floor.
I need to see her. Now.“Where did they take her?”
Delta’s brothers look at each other, communicating silently. Finally, Bay turns to me, his expression tight. “They took her down for a CT a few minutes ago. We haven’t heard anything else yet.”
Behind them, River gets unsteadily back to his feet, and I spare him one last furious, scathing look as I back toward the door.
“You knew she was in pain, you knew this could happen, and you wanted her snowboarding more than you wanted her alive and healthy. If anything happens to her, I’ll make sure the whole fucking world knows it.
I’ll burn your life down, River,” I spit venomously, hating him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life.
There’s a hell of a lot more I’d like to say, but right now, Delta is my priority.
CT and all the other imaging services are in the basement and I don’t bother waiting for an elevator, vaulting down the stairs so quickly it’s a miracle I don’t end up back in the emergency room.
The hall is empty except for a housekeeper wheeling a cart of laundry, and for lack of a better plan, I start yanking open doors, ignoring the startled looks from whoever was working inside.