Chapter 4
Hugh
I can't stop thinking about Alexi. All day at work, every other thought is about my girl. How is she feeling? Is she resting, or has she ignored every instruction I gave her?
I wish I had her number.
Yesterday, I nearly gave her mine. I even had my business card halfway out of my pocket before common sense prevailed. She was my patient, and blurring that line was the last thing I wanted.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
Instead, I’m wrapping up at the clinic after another long day, grumpier than I care to admit because it’s been almost twenty-four hours since I last saw her.
“Good night, Dr. Mercer,” Ruth calls from the doorway.
I look up and smile. “Night, Ruth. See you tomorrow.”
She waves and disappears, leaving the clinic quiet.
I finish the last of my charting, then freeze.
Charts.
My gaze drifts toward the computer screen before I can stop it.
Alexi Monroe.
I shouldn’t.
But…doctors follow up with patients all the time. Especially ones who came in looking as miserable as she did. Making sure she’s improving is good patient care.
That’s all this is. A quick courtesy call. If she's feeling better, I’ll wish her well and hang up.
I repeat the lie often enough that it almost sounds convincing.
With a resigned sigh, I open her chart, copy the phone number into my contacts, then immediately close the file again.
No lingering. No snooping. Just one phone call.
An hour later, I lock up the clinic and head for my car. I can’t wait any longer. Before I’m even behind the wheel, I pull up her number and hit dial.
The phone rings and rings. I think it’s about to go to voicemail when she picks up.
“Hello?” she croaks.
“Alexi?”
“Yes? Sorry, who is this?”
“Dr. Mercer.” Keep it professional.
I’m so confused. She sounds even worse today, but she should be a few doses into the medicine and on the mend already.
“Oh, Dr. Mercer,” she says, her voice listless.
I frown harder. “How are you feeling?”
“Great,” she lies.
I shake my head as I climb into my car and start it up, waiting for the phone call to connect to my speakers before I drive out of the lot.
“Have you eaten today?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“M&M’s and saltines.”
I groan.
“What did you eat?” she counters.
I pause. “I skipped lunch. Back-to-back patients.”
“A-ha! You don’t get to lecture me on my food choices when you didn’t even eat,” she sasses.
“Noted.”
“Is that it? Is that why you called? I’m fine, so you can cross me off your call list,” she says, then ruins it with a coughing fit.
“You sound terrible.” My mind races to figure out why she isn’t getting better. Maybe I missed something. Yes, that’s it. I need to see her. Examine her again.
I slam my foot on the gas, changing direction and heading toward her place.
“Is that your medical diagnosis?” she asks dryly.
I bite back a grin. She may be sick, but she hasn’t lost her fire. “Are you having any symptoms from the medicine?”
“Nope.”
I pull into her driveway, relieved to see her car parked. Although that doesn’t mean much. She was walking last night, after all.
Climbing out of the car, I grab my medical bag and stride up the path.
“Are you at home? Resting?” I demand.
“Yeah, doctor’s orders. Why?”
“Because I’m standing on your front porch.”
“Shit!” The line goes dead.
I tuck my phone into my pocket and knock on the door.
It swings open a minute later.
“What are you doing here?” Alexi gasps.
I frown as I look her over. Her color is bad, and she looks like one strong puff of wind will knock her over.
Stepping forward, I reach for her wrist, searching for her pulse. “I needed to check on you. You didn’t sound good on the phone. How are you feeling? And don’t lie this time because I can see you.”
A shudder goes through her, and goosebumps erupt across her arms. “I’m fine.”
Still lying. She’s hot to the touch, which means she still has a fever. She’s still flushed, still coughing, still looking miserable.
“Alexi—”
“Are you taking my pulse right now?” she cuts me off, looking annoyed.
“Yes, I need to—”
The front door slams in my face. I try the handle. Locked.
“Dammit, Alexi! You need medicine! Or different medicine! I need to examine you so I know what to prescribe.”
No answer.
I walk to the window and see her standing in the front room, bracing one hand against the wall. Christ, she looks so pale.
“Alexi, open the door,” I shout, the panic clear in my voice.
She doesn’t. Instead, she collapses onto the floor.
“Fuck!”
I’m already moving. Taking a step back, I ram the door with my shoulder. It takes a few tries before it gives. I grab my bag and step over the splintered wood, rushing to her side.
“Alexi? Can you hear me?”
She doesn't respond.
I feel for a pulse and let out a shaky breath when I find one.
“Come on, Alexi, stay with me, baby,” I urge as I check her eyes and vitals. “You can’t leave me. I’ve only found you.”
I rip open an alcohol wipe and hold it beneath her nose. A few seconds later, her eyelids flicker open, and she stares up at me.
“Thank fuck,” I say, gently helping her to sit up.
I lean her against the wall, scanning her features, noting her pale face, red nose, dry lips, and raspy breathing.
“I thought you had the respiratory bug that’s going around, but the medicine from yesterday should have helped with that. Now, I think it might be something else, but I’ll need to do a swab to be sure.”
“You should have done it when I fainted,” she wheezes.
“I was a little preoccupied with making sure you weren’t dying,” I growl at her.
She shrugs, struggling to climb to her feet.
I help her stand, resisting the urge to pull her close and wrap my arms around her. For now. “The swab won’t be that bad. It will take me two seconds.”
She shakes her head. “It’s probably the bug.”
“No, the medicine—”
“I didn’t get the medicine,” she blurts, looking embarrassed.
I clench my jaw, wanting to shake her for not following my orders and scaring me. But I also want to comfort her and tell her everything will be okay. That I’ll take care of her.
“Why didn’t you take your meds?” I ask softly, needing to know.
“They were out yesterday, and I forgot to go this morning.”
“Dear God,” I mumble under my breath, already lifting her in my arms.
“Hey!” she cries out weakly.
I ignore her as I carry her out of the house to my car.
“My front door!” she wails.
“Had to break it down to get to you,” I mutter. “I’ll call someone. Get it fixed.”
Alexi doesn’t argue, probably a testament to how sick she’s feeling.
Tucking her into the passenger seat, I jog around and slip behind the wheel.
“You should have told me about the meds yesterday,” I scold as I make the short drive to the pharmacy.
Alexi is silent as I park outside.
I turn to her, studying her nervous expression. What if her hang-up with doctors has to do with the medicine?
“I’ll run in, okay? I’ll be right back.”
I’m gone before she can argue. I wait impatiently in line until it’s my turn, giving them Alexi’s name.
“Ah, so the rumors are true?” the technician asks with a sly smile.
I pull out my debit card to pay. “What?”
“I heard that the two of you went late-night grocery shopping last night.”
I don’t reply. Let them talk because while Alexi and I are not technically a couple right now, we will be if I have my way.
I walk out with Alexi’s medicine and a bottle of water a few minutes later. Passing both to her, I watch as she swallows the pills.
“Good. Now, are you hungry?” I ask, pulling out of the parking lot.
She sighs. “Maybe. I could eat something.”
I smile, finally relaxed now that I know she’s going to be okay.
Being a doctor means taking care of people. It’s what I’ve dedicated my life to. But somewhere along the way, Alexi stopped feeling like just another patient.
She’s become the woman my every instinct wants to protect.
I’ve done my duty as her doctor. Now I’m going to do my duty as the man who’s falling for her.
I’ll make sure she eats. I’ll make sure she rests. I’ll make sure she never has to face another illness, bad day, or hardship alone if I can help it.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine to care for now.
Now I just have to convince her.