Chapter 15 #2
Sitting here, we lose track of time. The sun blazes, warming my face.
I’m about to go inside and get a hat when my phone rings.
The sound is jarring in the quiet, like an alarm going off.
I should’ve put it on silent, but I must have forgotten.
I fish it out of my pocket and see Mr Peltz’s name on the screen.
My lips thin as annoyance itches beneath my skin.
He knows it’s my time off, and he’s calling anyway, which means it’s an emergency or he’s testing me.
Seeing if I’ll drop everything the moment he demands it.
But I can’t ignore it. Not him. Not when I’m already on probation because of that family’s entitlement, not when Peltz is looking for any excuse to make my life harder.
“Hello?” I answer, already feeling my shoulders tensing back up.
“Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I need you to come in.” His voice is clipped, in a professional, no-nonsense way.
I rub my hand against my forehead, feeling my pulse start to pound in my temples. “Can’t you ask another doctor?”
“No.” The word is final.
“What’s happened?”
Maybe I can tell him what to do from here. Walk him through it over the phone.
“It’s for Hannah Morgan.”
My breath catches. Hannah. Something’s wrong with her.
The annoyance at being pulled away from my day off evaporates instantly, replaced by concern.
“She fell on set. I need you here.” There’s darkness in his tone now.
“What do you mean, she fell?” My hand tightens around the phone. “How bad are we talking?”
“Dr. Sterling.” His tone shifts into that authoritative boss; one that makes my teeth grind. “I’m ordering you to come in. This is for privacy; she’s being treated by only you. Those were the terms.”
I kick at the rocks on the ground near my chair, sending a few skittering toward the water.
“I’m not at home. I’m a few hours away.” I stand up, already mentally calculating the drive time.
“She’ll be here getting X-rays and an IV for rehydration and nausea until you arrive.”
“Nausea?” That catches my attention. My mind runs through possibilities. Pregnancy? Drug reaction?
“I think it’s from the painkillers.” He sounds uncertain, which isn’t like him.
“Riiight…” I drag the word out, thinking. That could be it, or it could be something else entirely. I won’t know until I examine her.
“When will you be here?”
“A few hours.” I could make it in an hour and a half if I push it, but I’m not speeding for him. And I need a minute to calm down.
“Fine. I’ll let her know.”
The line goes dead.
I stand there for a moment, staring at my phone in my hand. No more peaceful day for me.
“Everything okay?” Jameson asks.
I turn to face them both. Emmett’s sitting up now, watching me with raised eyebrows.
“I have to go back. Patient emergency.”
“Seriously?” Emmett groans and throws his head back. “We just got here.”
“Yeah.” I shove my phone back into my pocket, harder than necessary. “Tell me about it.”
I move toward the cabin.
“Hey, wait up.” Jameson stands, his chair scraping against the wooden planks. “Is it serious?”
I pause, one foot on the bottom step of the cabin porch, my hand gripping the rusted railing. “A patient fell. Needs X-rays, the whole nine yards.” I don’t mention who it is. Can’t… Patient confidentiality and all that fucking shit, even with my best friends.
“Can’t someone else handle it?” Emmett calls out from his spot in the chair.
“Apparently not.” I take a breath, trying to rein in my temper. This isn’t their fault. “It’s complicated. Privacy concerns.”
“A special patient?” Jameson asks, his eyebrows raised knowingly.
“Something like that.” I push through the cabin door, letting it swing shut behind me.
Inside, I grab my bag from the closet and start shoving everything back inside, not bothering to fold anything properly right now.
My fishing gear. Fuck. I left it all on the pier.
I head back outside, and the door slams behind me. Both guys are standing now, watching me with matching expressions of disappointment mixed with concern.
“I’ll grab your stuff,” Jameson offers, already moving toward my rod propped against the railing.
“Thanks, man.” I run a hand over my face as my muscles coil tighter in my body. “I’m sorry. This is bullshit.”
“Not your fault.” Emmett stands and claps me on the shoulder with a firm grip. “Duty calls, right? That’s what you signed up for.”
“Doesn’t make it suck any less.” I watch as Jameson carefully reels in my line, checking the hook before securing everything properly. He’s always been as meticulous as me.
“You coming back after?” Emmett asks, his hand still on my shoulder.
I want to say yes so badly. But I glance at my watch, noting it’s already late afternoon. By the time I get to the hospital, examine her, finish paperwork, handle whatever’s waiting for me, it’ll be evening, at best. And if it’s serious or requires another surgery…
“Probably not,” I admit. “Depends on what I’m walking into.”
Jameson hands me my rod, his expression sympathetic. “We’ll still be here tomorrow if things clear up.”
I take the gear, my grip tight on the rod. “I’ll text you guys either way.”
I load everything into my car. When I turn back, both guys are standing at the edge of the pier, waving goodbye.
The drive back through the narrow road lined with trees and the afternoon sun beaming through my open window calms me, but as soon as I hit the gas station, my fingers grip the steering wheel.
I try not to think about her. About Miss Hannah Morgan with her wide blue eyes and the way she bites her bottom lip when she’s nervous. How her perfume lingers in my examination room long after she’s left, sweet and absolutely fucking intoxicating.
I try not to think about how my heart rate sped up when Mr. Peltz said her name on the phone.
This is professional. She’s a patient. She fell, she needs medical attention, and I’m her doctor. That’s it. That’s all this is.
Traffic starts to a crawl as I hit the outskirts of town. Construction is happening, which means it’s down to one lane. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I watch the minutes tick by on my dashboard clock. I told Mr. Peltz a few hours. I’m cutting it close.
Finally, I pass the construction, and I arrive at the hospital. I take the first spot I see in the staff parking lot, leaving my bag in the car to deal with later. I just grab my keys and my wallet, slamming the door behind me as I storm inside.
I slip in through the staff entrance. The hallway passes the busy ED as I head straight to the nurse’s station.
Dr. Patel is there. He looks up as I approach.
“Dr. Sterling. Didn’t expect to see you today.” His eyes scan me, taking in my casual clothes. This is definitely not my usual work attire.
“Neither did I,” I mutter. “Where’s Miss Morgan?”
His expression shifts, becoming more guarded. He glances around, then lowers his voice. “VIP room. Mr. Peltz is with her.”
“How is she?” I whisper.
“Stable. X-rays came back clean; no fractures. The IV has been running for about thirty minutes. She was pretty dehydrated.” Patel types something on his computer, pulling up what I assume is Hannah’s chart.
“Vitals are good now. Blood pressure is still a little low, but better than when she came in.”
“Is she nauseas?”
“We gave her Zofran with the IV. Seems to have helped.” Patel looks up at me. “She asked if you were here.”
My stomach does this stupid somersault that I fucking hate. “I’ve looked after her before,” I say, like that explains everything. Like it’s not also because whatever this fucked-up connection between us is.
“Right.” Patel doesn’t sound convinced, but he’s professional enough not to push. “Good luck.”
I nod and turn away, my heart rate picking up with each step toward the VIP room. The hallway seems longer than usual.
I stop just outside the door, taking a moment to collect myself. To shove everything unprofessional down where it can’t interfere with my job. My future.
Then I knock twice and push the door open.
“Dr. Sterling,” Peltz says immediately, relief flooding his features. He’s standing near the door, arms crossed over his chest. “Thank you for coming in.”
But I barely hear him because my eyes are already on Hannah Morgan sitting on the bed, an IV line running into her left arm.
She’s wearing what looks like her work clothes again.
A black sleeveless dress with a high neckline and a deep V-cut bodice.
The fabric cinches at the waist into a short, ruffled skirt.
Her blonde hair is styled in loose, soft waves cascading over her shoulders.
There’s a bruise already forming on her knee, but it’s her face that has me haunted.
Her blue eyes are rimmed red, like she’s been crying.
“Dr. Sterling.” She sounds fragile, both relief and fear lingering in her voice.
I force myself to move, close the door, and enter her room properly. Be the professional doctor I’m supposed to be.
I clear my throat. “Miss Morgan. I hear you had a fall.”