Chapter 12 – QUINN
QUINN
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go to the field yesterday or today.
My residency requires a certain number of hours in the OR and I’m more than happy about that.
It was a busy day since I was either in the ER or the OR for most of it.
My last patient of the day was a child with a broken femur after a nasty fall from his top bunk.
Thankfully he came out of surgery okay, which was a good way to end it.
I twist my back until it cracks, pull off my scrub cap, and shove it into my back pocket.
“Morphine orders?” Rebecca, the ICU nurse for my patient, asks as we get him settled into his room.
“One milligram Q four hours with a PRN bolus dose of point-two-five milligrams. It should be in his chart.”
“No. I’ve got acetaminophen—oh wait.” She clicks on a different tab in the EMR. “Yes, sorry, there it is. It’s been a long shift.”
“I hear that.” I yawn and lean my hip against the wall beside his room. “He should be good for a while, and Sanders is on tonight, covering him. The kid’s a close watch since the bone nicked his femoral.”
She winces. “Did he get blood?”
“One unit of type specific. I put in an order for a repeat H&H at five in the morning, but watch him, and if you feel we need it sooner, I’m good.”
“I’ll mention it to the night nurse.” She checks her watch. “Change of shift is in thirty minutes.”
“I’m not here tomorrow, but if you need anything, just text-page me.”
“I think we’ll be good.” She smiles at me. “You look tired, Doctor.”
“All in a day’s work.” Actually, that’s not why I look tired, which I know I do. I’ve slept like shit this week, and it’s at the greedy hands of men. I wish I didn’t miss Rhett, but I do. I also wish I didn’t have to see him tomorrow.
Whatever. He appears over it, so I should be too.
A good night’s sleep will help, and since I don’t have to be up before dawn, I may have a fat glass of wine followed by a melatonin.
“I’m heading out. Have a good one.”
I wave to her, throw my patient one last glance, and leave the ICU.
My stuff is shoved into my locker, but I’m too tired to change.
I’ll shower at home. I head down through the lobby and out the front doors, taking a deep inhale of the warm summer evening.
It’s still bright out—gotta love summer—and I take a left and head up Cambridge Street toward the grocery store.
I have no food in my house, and I’m more than a little tired of takeout. I want something healthy. I don’t think my diet this week has been doing me any favors either.
“Hey!” I get a nudge in the back and turn to find Braelyn with Wren Kincaid, Katy Lawson, and Keegan Powell.
Wren, Katy, and Keegan are all doctors in the hospital, best friends, and Fritzes and therefore cousins with Skylar, Roman, Micha, and Forest. Wren works in the ER, and Katy in trauma, so I work with them a lot.
Keegan is here per diem but occasionally our stars align.
In fact, Wren was the doctor who first saw my femur kid this afternoon.
“Hey! What are you three up to?” I ask.
“Grabbing a quick after-work drink and some appies before we have to get home to husbands and kids,” Katy explains. “Tinsley is meeting us too. You should come.”
Tinsley is Tinsley Monroe, the famous pop and movie star. She recently won an Oscar and is currently pregnant with twins. She was Forest’s childhood sweetheart but is married to his older brother. Forest didn’t take it well at first but is slowly coming around.
“Yes,” Wren agrees, pulling her long, blonde hair down from her ponytail. “It’s been a bastard of a day as you know. Hey, how’d that kid with the femur fracture do?”
“Good. He came out of surgery well, but he needed a unit of blood and will have a long recovery.”
“Poor kid. Yikes. This is why I deal with pregnant women and babies,” Keegan muses.
“And writing romance books,” I tease. “Speaking of which, I downloaded my next Victoria Nightshade book last night.”
Frankly, I need all the spice I can get right now, and fictional men are the ones who are going to give me all the heat and feels.
“Aw, thank you for that.” She brushes her bright red hair over her shoulder and points across the street. “We’re just going to The Hill. Join us.”
“Sure. What the hell?” So much for eating healthy tonight.
We cross the street, and I listen as Katy talks about her kids, Willow and baby Callan, who is only a few months old.
Keegan is a stepmother to Fenric, who is one of the most adorable little boys ever.
Well, other than my nephew, of course. It’s wonderful to see women I’ve known my entire life with everything they wanted for themselves.
“You’re here!” Tinsley singsongs as we enter, her arms spread out wide and her large, round belly adorably positioned in between. “Oh, and you brought more. Let’s switch tables.”
Before the sentence is fully out of her mouth, a waiter is by her side, making the adjustment for her. She thanks him, and we end up at a high-top table in the bar area. We order a round of cosmos.
“Food?” Katy questions as she checks her glucose on her phone app since she’s a type 1 diabetic before covertly cleaning her lower belly with an alcohol swab and injecting some insulin since she doesn’t wear a pump. “Bennett texted for me not to rush home.”
“Jack is working till eleven tonight,” Wren states.
“I’m good too,” Keegan jumps in. “My parents have Fen since Loomis is on location.”
Tinsley scoffs. “Filming without me.”
Tinsley and Loomis are best friends but also have the best on-screen chemistry and subsequently star in a lot of movies together.
“You’re preggo. I think that trumps filming.” I pat her belly.
She sighs. “I guess. Anyway, Stone is working a late shift tonight too.”
“Same,” Braelyn notes. “Roman is at Southpaw.” Southpaw is one of Roman’s restaurants. He has three in the city. “So let’s order—”
“Ow!” I cry as Braelyn pinches my arm and grabs me in a headlock around the neck and lowers me toward the table. “What the hell, Brae?”
“He’s here,” she hisses in my ear. “Look.”
“What? Who?” everyone cries as their heads whip in unison toward the bar.
“Don’t look!” Braelyn hisses.
“You just told us to look!” Katy protests.
“Not you!” she exclaims. “I was talking to Quinn.”
“I can’t see,” I cry. “You have my face practically against the table, which is gross. What the hell is going on?”
“It’s Coach Rhett,” she whispers so the others can’t hear.
I tense. “Are you sure? How do you know what he looks like?”
“Because I Googled him. Duh.”
“Great,” I mumble under my breath.
“Who are we talking about?” Tinsley questions.
“Awesome. Thanks for doing this in front of the entire town. Let me up!”
“Fine but keep your head down. Unless you want him to see you.”
Her arm untangles from the back of my neck. I keep my head low as I surreptitiously scan the bar area, but from this angle, I can’t see much.
“He’s a random Quinn had a horrible one-nighter with him some months back,” she explains. “He splooged in his pants before she even hit the bed.”
I glare. “What are you doing?”
She shakes her head in an I don’t know way.
“Anyway, she obviously would want to avoid him.” I get a helpless crease of her lips. Braelyn is the worst liar. Like me.
My eyes close. Then I laugh ever so slightly because it’s actually pretty funny all things considered.
“Oh. How awful.” Wren waves the waitress over. “We’re going to have one of every appetizer on the menu, please.”
I sigh, but when the waitress moves and Wren shifts, I get a better shot at the bar.
Sure enough, Rhett is sipping on a soda with a half-eaten burger in front of him.
He has his glasses on and a laptop in front of him.
I’ve got a perfect profile shot of him. And my stomach just got a fresh jolt of butterflies.
What is he doing here? Please don’t tell me—
“Dude, does he live in this neighborhood?” Katy ducks her head and checks him out as do the other women. They’re looking at the guy a few seats down from Rhett, which makes sense because he’s also alone and closer to our age. I think he works at the hospital, actually.
Keegan nods. “No one else comes here unless they work at the hospital or live in Beacon Hill. Plus, he looks cozy. And hot. I mean, older, but no judgment. Men age like fine wine.”
“Wait. Older?” Tinsley questions. “Who are you looking at? I thought it was the guy in the white shirt.”
I glare at Braelyn.
Katy snorts. “I’ll take the hot, older man for two thousand, Ken.” She snickers. “Quinn, which one is he?”
“Oh, look, mozzarella sticks are back on the menu,” Braelyn notes, trying for a distraction that isn’t working. “My favorite.”
Wren nudges Tinsley because they’re all in this now. “I’m for the older guy.”
“Totally,” she agrees. “Why do men get better looking while we age like moldy cheese? Life is unfair like that.”
“Bennett is in his forties, and I like his grays. It’s sexy and distinguished.”
“He has nice grays,” Keegan agrees with Katy.
I gnaw on my lip as I work to keep myself hidden.
“He really came in his pants?”
I shrug, giving a noncommittal answer. “It’s the younger one.” Because I don’t want them thinking that Rhett did that. It feels wrong.
He and I may both know it happened, but it doesn’t matter.
It only makes it worse. If only I could erase the last four months of our talking along with that night, I’d be much better off.
The total one-eighty between allowing myself to relax and like him versus the abrupt shift into indifferent strangers is what’s most jarring about this.
But what if he lives around here? I don’t want to run into him. I’m already forced to see him on the field.
“Even if he’s a local, it doesn’t mean you’ll see him,” Keegan reassures, just as our drinks are delivered.
“I hope not,” I grouse.
“Oh, he’s leaving,” Braelyn states. “Keep your head down.”
As fate would have it, both of them get up to leave at the same time.
I twist my head and keep it close to my shoulder. Rhett’s phone rings, and he gets distracted with that as he heads out the door. The younger guy immediately follows after.
“He didn’t see you,” Wren says.
“Crisis averted.” Keegan is smiling. So are Katy and Tinsley. “The older guy, that is, since he’s the one you were tracking.”
Busted. Awesome.
“He didn’t come in his pants, did he?”
“No. He didn’t,” I tell Katy.
“But at least he didn’t see you,” Tinsley jumps in.
Yeah, but I have to see him tomorrow.