Dr. Accidental Daddy

Chapter 1 Jordan

JORDAN

Traffic crawls through downtown, but I crank the music up and whistle along, in no hurry at all, thanks to leaving early. Like everything else in my life, my mornings are controlled. Planned to the minute. Padded with extra time. Because you can’t be late anywhere when you always leave early.

On the passenger’s seat, my phone buzzes with texts from work, but I ignore it. Usually, I’d be answering all of them. It doesn’t matter that I’m not yet on the clock.

This morning is different, though. It’s time for my weekly breakfast with my sister, and when it comes to her, everything takes a back seat. Especially considering the hell she’s been through the last few months.

Poncho’s Diner appears at the corner, and I hit the gas to make a quick turn and snag a parking spot. Grabbing my phone, I quickly glance at the messages—someone needs a referral, and today’s afternoon meeting is being pushed to tomorrow.

My fingers itch to answer everyone, but instead I put the phone on silent and pocket it. Through the diner’s long windows, I catch sight of my sister, blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and her shoulders slumped forward.

The sight of her makes my chest clench tight.

Of course I’ll ask, but I already know she’s not doing well.

And I also know that she’ll lie and tell me everything is fine.

A stiff upper lip is in her nature, just like it is in mine, and even though we aren’t related by blood, there are some things that have shaped the two of us in indescribable ways.

Closing my car door, I head into the diner. I only have an hour before I need to be in the oncology department, and I intend on not wasting a minute.

Amy spots me from across the diner, her whole face lighting up. She waves, but then her attention quickly shifts to the baby carrier. Henry, six months old, has started fussing, and Amy pulls a bottle out of the baby bag.

The love on her face is obvious, but so is the fatigue.

Again, my chest tightens. I really should be around more.

Make more time to help her out. Make more time to just be there.

I’ve helped her out in every financial way possible this year, including paying for house cleaners and a meal-delivery service—things she’s always tried to wave off but that I know she appreciates—but I should spend more time with my family.

They’re all I’ve got. I’m all they have.

But work is… well, work. And if the three of us are going to be together more…

“You should really consider my offer,” I say, sliding into the booth across from her.

She gives me a flat look. “Again, thank you, but I can’t move in with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to leave our home.” She looks away. “Cole and I planned on spending the rest of our lives there. It’s our forever home.”

It’s our forever home. I wonder if she realizes that sometimes she talks about her husband like he’s still here instead of five months in the grave.

“I can hire you some more help.”

She smiles, but it’s a tired one. “I don’t want it, but thank you.”

I nod, but really, I don’t understand. Even though I’m busy working seventy-plus hours a week, I do what I can to get Amy out of her shell. Trouble is, I can’t tell if she’s still grieving over losing Cole, or if she’s settled into a new lifestyle—that of a hermit.

If it’s the latter, it can’t be good for her.

“How are things with you?” She smoothly changes the topic.

“Good.” I pick up the menu, even though I already know what I’ll be ordering.

“Good?” She cocks an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I smile… but then feel guilty about it.

“You can be happy, Jordan. I want you to be.”

Sighing, I lean forward. I know I can be happy if I want, but it hurts to see her still so down. Not only does she have to deal with losing her husband, but she’s raising a baby on her own. The worst part is that Cole only got a month with his son, and I know that kills Amy more than anything else.

“Here. Let me help.” I take the bottle from Amy, but apparently, I’m not holding it right because Henry starts fussing.

“You can just give it to him,” she says. “He can hold it on his own now.”

“Okay.” My face warm, I hand the bottle over to the baby, who apparently knows how to hold things better than I do.

“Mom and Dad called this morning,” Amy says after the waitress deposits two coffees in front of us and takes our orders.

“How are they?”

“Hard to say.” She stares into her coffee, which she’s stirring sugar into. “All they want to talk about is me.”

“You’re the hot topic of the moment.”

“I know.” She sighs, stops stirring, and looks up at me. “I hate feeling like a charity case.”

“You’re not—” I catch myself before finishing. “Yeah. I understand.”

“It was bad enough feeling that way as a foster kid, you know?”

I nod, knowing completely. Amy and I spent a few years together in a group home, which is where we met.

We watched other kids getting adopted, feeling like it was never going to happen to us.

Then, when I was thirteen, our adoptive parents took us out of there.

It felt amazing to have a house with a big backyard, to be with my best friend, whom I could now call my sister.

No matter what, I’d always have her. I didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for me ever again.

The waitress returns with our food. Pancakes for Amy, eggs and toast for me. Same order we’ve had for years. The familiar routine comforts me more than I’d like to admit. This is exactly what I need. Structure. Predictability. Someone who knows me well enough that I don’t have to explain myself.

“So,” Amy says, cutting her pancakes into perfect squares like she always does, “tell me about work. I know you’re excited about something.”

She’s right. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “The new treatment protocol got approved. We start trials next month.”

“That’s amazing.” Her smile is genuine this time, the first real one I’ve seen all morning. “You’ve been working on this for—what, two years?”

“Three.” I take a bite of toast, savoring the moment. “If it works the way I think it will, we could be looking at a thirty percent increase in survival rates for pancreatic cancer patients.”

“Jordan, that’s incredible.”

It is incredible. This is why I love my life. This sense of purpose, of making a real difference. Every late night, every missed social event, every relationship that didn’t work out because I couldn’t give it the attention it needed… It’s all been worth it for moments like this.

“Plus, it’s been hinted that I’m in the running for department head when the current head retires.”

Amy nearly chokes on her coffee. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.” I lean back in the booth, feeling satisfaction settle in my chest like warm honey. “Youngest department head in the hospital’s history.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

I have worked hard. Seventy-hour weeks, constant studying, and building relationships with the right people. Everything in my life has led to this moment, and it feels perfect. Clean. Achievable.

“Speaking of which,” Amy says, her tone shifting slightly. “Michelle’s having a barbecue this weekend. You should come.”

“Sounds good. I could use a break.”

“Great.” She pauses, studying my face. “You could bring someone if you want.”

And there it is. The question I’ve been waiting for. Amy can’t help herself. She sees my success and thinks the only thing missing is someone to share it with.

“I don’t have anyone to bring.”

“I know, but maybe it’s time to change that.” Her voice is gentle but persistent. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

The question hits differently than usual. Instead of my standard deflection, my mind actually tries to answer.

Sasha, the X-ray tech? That was months ago, and while our time together was nice, she wanted to introduce me to her parents after three dates.

The lawyer from Amy’s firm? Yeah. Not going there again. She got upset when I had to cancel dinner for an emergency surgery.

“I’ve been busy,” I say, but the words feel less certain than they usually do.

“You’re always busy. That’s not the same thing as not having time for someone special.”

For a split second, I imagine what that would look like. Someone who understands the demands of my job. Someone who doesn’t see my dedication as a flaw but as part of who I am. Someone who…

I shake my head, pushing the thought away. “Amy, look at my life. I’m exactly where I want to be. I don’t need anything else.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to celebrate with? Someone to come home to?”

There’s something in her voice that makes me look at her more carefully. She’s not just asking about my love life. She’s asking because she knows what it’s like to have someone and then lose them. She’s asking because she understands both sides in a way I never will.

My confidence wavers for just a moment. “I celebrate with you. With Mom and Dad. With colleagues.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

She’s right, but I can’t admit that. Because if I admit that, then I have to admit that maybe there’s something missing from my perfect life. And there isn’t. There can’t be.

“Amy, every woman I’ve dated has wanted more than I can give. More time, more attention, more emotional availability. I’m not built for relationships.”

“You’re not built for the wrong relationships,” she corrects. “There’s a difference.”

Henry starts fussing again, and Amy automatically reaches for him.

She adjusts his position, checks his diaper, and makes soft shushing sounds until he settles.

The ease with which she does it all makes something twist in my chest. Not envy, exactly.

More like recognition of something I can’t quite name.

“What if you met someone who had her own passion?” Amy continues while rocking Henry. “Someone who understood dedication because she had her own goals?”

The image forms unbidden. Someone driven like me. Someone who gets that work isn’t just a job but a calling. Someone who wouldn’t resent the hospital for taking up so much of my time because she’d have her own important things to focus on.

The thought is so appealing it scares me.

“I’m happy,” I say quickly, more to convince myself than her. “Really happy. My life is exactly what I’ve worked to build.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but Henry chooses that moment to spit up on her shirt. She laughs, reaching for napkins, and the moment passes.

“I should get going,” I say, checking my watch. “Rounds start in thirty minutes.”

“Think about the barbecue. And Jordan?” She looks up from wiping Henry’s chin. “Think about being open to possibilities. You deserve to have it all.”

“Thanks, Sis.” Putting some cash on the table to cover the bill, I kiss the side of her head and leave the diner.

Except our conversation follows me.

You deserve to have it all. Even once I’m back in my car, her words still stick with me. Through the diner window, I can see Amy gathering her things, Henry in her arms.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe I could have more. Maybe there’s someone out there who would fit into my life instead of demanding I change it.

But then I think about the department head position, the research trials starting next month, and the patients counting on me. I think about the perfect order of my days, the satisfaction of problems solved and lives saved. Why risk messing with something that works?

My phone buzzes with a text from Dr. Monroe. Mrs. Khan’s scans are ready for review. I smile, sliding the phone back into my pocket. This is what I know. This is what I’m good at. This is enough.

As I drive toward the hospital, Amy’s words echo in my mind one more time.

Maybe I do deserve to have it all. But what I have right now feels pretty close to everything already.