Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
D axton
I stare at Harper across the tight bathroom and on instinct, I drop right back down on one knee … and land straight in a wet puddle – one I don’t want to inspect too closely. Moisture soaks through my pant leg.
I ignore it.
We were interrupted last time I tried this, and I never got a chance to finish my proposal. More importantly, she never got the chance to answer me.
“Harper Hall, will you ma–”
“Miss Hall,” the older nurse calls through the door, “are you all right in there?”
Harper glances at me in alarm and attempts to drag me to my feet as she calls out, “Just finishing up. You were right. I’m pregnant.”
“Ahhh, just what I suspected. I can try to book you in for an appointment with one of the obstetricians now or you can talk to your own doctor if you’d prefer?”
“I think I’d like to talk to my own doctor,” Harper says. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“It is. I left you some water and something to eat out here. I think we’d better get your blood sugar levels back up.” I nod in agreement. “I’ll be back to check in on you in a few minutes.”
I hold my breath, waiting as her footsteps fade away, then Harper unlocks the bathroom door and peers around.
“Coast is clear,” she whispers. “You’d better get out of here before people start asking questions.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Harper pushes futilely at my body.
“This is going to be a big enough scandal as it is. It’ll be an even bigger one if we’re caught together in the bathroom. While you’re on duty.”
“I don’t care,” I tell her. “I want to be with you.”
“But when I called you last night, you hung up on me,” she blurts out.
“I didn’t … I was in the middle of leaving you this voicemail and then my battery died. And I was really hammered and Owen had to–”
“What did it say?”
“What?”
“What did the message say?”
I take a deep breath in. “That I love you, Harper Hall, and I don’t want you to move away to New York. I want you to stay here and be our pack omega, damn the consequences.” She smiles at me. “How about you? Why did you call me?”
“To ask you if I’d got this all wrong.”
“You did.”
“I’m sorry.” She chews on the inside of her cheek and curls her hair around the small shell of her ear.
I lean in to kiss her again and this time my pager beeps from the pocket of my white coat.
I ignore it.
I definitely don’t want to leave her now.
“Dax, wasn’t that your pager?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Daxton,” she says, “you have to go!”
“I don’t want to leave–”
“I’ll be fine, honestly,” she says, pulling a smile onto her face.
“We need to talk about this some more, Harp,” I say.
“I know,” she says, “but later, okay?” She pushes at me some more. “Go on, go. You have other patients. I’m just fine.”
The thing is, I’m not sure I am. A million trillion thoughts spiral round my mind at once. The most prominent – claim the fucking omega.
I decide she’s right, I’d better get the hell out of here before I do something stupid.
“We’ll talk later this evening. After my shift.” She nods. I hesitate. Then kiss her soft cheek.
She really does smell different and something in my hindbrain recognizes it. This omega is knocked up. My chest puffs out with pride. I can’t help it. More damn alpha instincts.
I scrub my hands through my hair and hurry out of there.
For the next hour I’m running on autopilot, my mind fixated on Harper and that piece of news. It’s burning a damn hole in my chest and I need to go tell someone. Specifically my pack. I have no idea how they’re going to take the news. I suspect they’re going to react in the weird alpha-way I have. Harper also wasn’t wrong. This is complicated.
By the time my break comes around, I’m frazzled mentally. Usually, I’d work through my break. Today, I bee-line straight for the surgery department, stopping at the reception desk.
“Where’s Dr. Wyatt Stanton?” I demand before anyone sitting behind the desk has even acknowledged me.
“Oh, Dr. Daxton Stanton,” the receptionist says, “nice to see you.”
“Where’s Wyatt?” I demand.
The man pales. “Is something the matter?”
“Yes. No. Yes. I just need to talk to him, okay?”
The man nods his head empathetically and deviates his gaze to his computer screen. “Hmmm, he’s currently in theater four. It’s a triple by-pass. He’s not due to be out for another two hours.”
“Thanks,” I say, ignoring his alarmed calls as I stroll right past the reception desks and out towards the theaters. I keep walking until I find theater four, then I swing through the door and into the preparation area. Here I strip down, flinging my clothes on the nearest bench, yank on a set of scrubs, flick a hairnet on my head and get to work scrubbing up. I won’t be touching anything in the theater, but I’m not that much of a dick to walk in covered in potential infection.
When my hands are scrubbed clean – all germs plus Harper’s peachy scent removed from my skin – I push through the next set of doors and into the crowded theater. A triple bypass is complicated and the team undertaking it – led by Wyatt – consists of ten people. Wyatt is standing right by the operating table, his specialist glasses fixed to his face, his hands hovering over the man’s open chest.
Everybody is so focused on the job at hand that no one seems to notice me entering the theater.
“Wyatt,” I whisper. He has his tongue caught between his teeth and he’s frowning with concentration. I tap my foot and glance at my watch. My break will be over in fifteen minutes. “Wyatt?” I hiss.
“What is it, Dax?” he says, not looking up from his work. So he did know I was here then.
“I need to talk to you.”
Wyatt’s eyes flick to mine, then back to his work. “I’m kinda in the middle of something right now, Daxton.”
“Can’t we go somewhere more private to talk?” I hiss. “It’s important.”
“So is this.”
“Wyatt!”
He looks at me. I bet I look manic. “What is it?”
I take a deep breath in. “Harper’s pregnant.”
Wyatt stares at me, then stares at me some more. His hands are frozen still, mid-whatever he was doing in that man’s chest.
“Errr, Wyatt?” the assistant surgeon says. Wyatt ignores him.
“Sorry, I must be mistaken. I’m sure you just said–”
“She’s pregnant, Wyatt.”
“H-h-how–”
“Well,” I snap with irritation, “when a mommy and a daddy love each other–”
One of the nurses sniggers.
“I don’t mean, how did she become pregnant, I mean how do you know?”
“I was with her when she took the test.”
“Who is Harper?” one of the other nurses asks.
“My step-sister,” I say.
“Ahhh,” the crowd gathered in the theater says together. Then collectively, they turn and peer at Wyatt.
More confusion spreads across his face and I glance at my watch again. Ten minutes.
“I’m sorry, Dax, I’m struggling to–”
“She fainted on the flight to New York this morning. They brought her into the hospital. She took a pregnancy test. It was positive. The baby is ours.”
One of the nurses gasps. The anesthetist swings her gaze between us. And another of the nurses drops her tray of instruments, the tools scattering across the floor.
Wyatt doesn’t even flinch. He stares at me some more.
“Err, Wyatt,” the assistant surgeon says nervously, “I think you might need to …”
Wyatt doesn’t move. He just keeps on staring, his mouth hanging open.
“I’m confused,” one of the nurses whispers to another. “Is this girl their omega or their step-sister?”
“Both,” I say, raising my chin.
The theater is deadly quiet, only the beep of the heart monitor punctuates the silence.
The anesthetist clears her throat.
“Dr. Stanton,” the nurse calls, “is everything okay?”
“I’m … I’m not sure,” he says to her, then addresses me, eyes still on his work: “Is she still going to New York?”
“Undetermined,” I reply.
“Do you want her to go to New York?” the anesthetist asks.
“No,” we both say in unison.
“Then why is she going?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “She’s my step-sister. She’s concerned that if this relationship becomes public knowledge, our careers will be over.”
“Didn’t your dad marry when you were like twenty?” asks one of the nurses who has obviously taken an interest in our backgrounds.
“Yep.”
“So what’s the big deal?”
“It’s not exactly … conventional,” Wyatt says.
“It’s pretty scandalous.” The nurse who dropped the tray giggles, although he seems less shocked and more excited at the prospect of spreading some juicy gossip.
“Scandalous?” the other nurse scoffs. “Hardly! Did you know Pete and Lola from Geriatrics got caught screwing in the supplies cupboard while they were on duty last year? That’s scandalous and they only ended up with a verbal warning.”
“It’s true. And Tim from accounts was having an affair with the CEO’s wife and he still has his job,” the anesthetist says. “This hospital is too understaffed to take the moral high ground on these issues. You won’t get fired.”
“I know all this but we haven’t been able to convince her,” Wyatt says, still working away.
“Well … have you tried?” the anesthetist asks.
“Yes, Owen did,” Wyatt says.
“And if Owen can’t convince her I don’t see how anyone else would,” I mutter. The others in the theater all mumble their agreement. We all know how charming and persuadable Owen is.
“It is a conundrum,” the surgical assistant says, handing Wyatt a scalpel.
“It isn’t,” the anesthetist says, shaking her head. “There’s another person in the picture now. It’s not just the four of you – there’s a baby involved too. If you want to be with her, if you want to raise this child together, you need to show her just how serious you are.”
“How?” Wyatt asks.
The anesthetist’s eyes crinkle and I can tell she’s smiling at Wyatt under her mask. “You’re an intelligent man, Dr. Stanton. You all are.” She swings her gaze to mine. “I’m sure you can figure that out.”