CHAPTER 4
IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?
***
Lauren
After spending a long week at the arena, it’s good to be back at the children’s hospital, spending time with some of my favorite patients. My schedule’s usually pretty packed with nursing school and volunteering. With everything bubbling below the surface with Granger, I’m glad to have the distraction––even if that distraction is a sweet little girl going through another round of chemotherapy.
Emily, my patient for the evening, is an avid hockey fan. She’s also bright, funny, and wise beyond her years. Despite her illness, she has an amazing, positive attitude. Since I have connections with the Saints through Zach, Emily’s care team chose me from the volunteer nursing pool. When her chemo treatments coincide with a Saints game, Emily and I bond while her parents take a much-deserved break away from the hospital.
Emily settles in for her treatment, and I do my best to keep her comfortable and distracted. We snuggle up with her favorite blanket and tune into the Saints’ game. Her eyes light up as she watches the players glide across the ice, swerving and zigzagging the puck toward the goal.
“Did you see that pass?” Her face breaks into a wide smile as she points at the screen. “That was amazing.”
“They’ve been working on their passing drills a lot lately.” I nod, eyes glued to the screen.
“You’re so lucky you get to work there,” Emily says. “Don’t you just love it?”
“Uh, huh. I do, but I’ll only be there for a few weeks.” As grateful as I am for the opportunity to broaden my nursing skills, I miss my younger patients. They are at the heart of my love for nursing. “Then I’ll be back here again with you.”
I dot her nose with my fingertip, and we continue watching the game. Emily calls plays like a seasoned super fan. She talks animatedly, excited when a play goes the Saints’ way. At one point, a player on the opposing team takes a swing at one of our guys and gets sent to the penalty box.
“You can’t just go around punching people. You big meanie,” Emily balls her hand into a fist and shakes it in the air. “He got what he deserved.
“I wholeheartedly concur,” I agree, relieved that no one on the Saints were penalized. “Let’s hope they all keep their cool tonight.”
“He’s lucky he didn’t punch Granger. Granger wouldn’t let him get away with that.” Emily scrunches her brow and shakes her fist again, a true fan of his.
“Granger’s had a rough season, but he’s trying to stay out of trouble.” His talk about fairness and fighting back when the odds aren’t in his favor comes back to me. He’s a good man beneath the harsh exterior. I wish everyone knew that about him, but his past isn’t mine to tell.
“I like Granger. He’s tough but nice. Kind of like you.” Emily yawns, and her eyelids begin to droop.
Her words warm my heart. It’s the little things and the impression I make on hearts like hers that made me want to become a nurse. When Mom battled cancer, I spent every free moment I could at the hospital with her. She shooed me away when she had treatments that she didn’t want me to see. I tried to be helpful, so I kept younger patients company by reading to them, doing puzzles, or playing games. That’s when I found my calling to become a nurse.
“All right, kiddo. How about we turn off the game and let you get some rest?” I suggest reaching for the remote.
“Okay.” She stretches the word out with a big yawn.
I turn off the game and tuck Emily in a little tighter, cocooning her with the blanket. I smooth her hair away from her forehead and dim the lights. When My shift ends, I pop back into her room, where she’s sound asleep, out for the night.
“Sleep well, champ. See you next time.”
The hospital shift was long and draining, but I’m proud of the difference I make here. Looking after Emily makes the long days worth it. Who am I to complain about being exhausted when she’s battled acute lymphoblastic leukemia (ALL) for over a year now? ALL is curable with the proper treatment. Though the journey’s long and challenging, the doctors are optimistic she’ll beat it. Despite the grueling treatments and the toll it takes on her tiny body, Emily remains in remarkably good spirits. She’s resilient, always wearing a brave smile that lights up a room. She’s nothing short of inspiring.
I make a quick run to the store for something easy to heat up and grab a few items for next week’s lunches while I’m at it. I drift back to the game, hoping Granger kept his temper in check. I didn’t get to watch the final minutes, but I did check the score.
Me: Congrats on the win tonight!
I text Zach as I usually do after a big game. I type quickly, hesitating for a moment before hitting send. I want to ask about Granger, but think better of it. I’m too tired for a lecture from my well-meaning brother.
Zach: Thanks. They’re a tough team.
Me: Saints are tougher. Get some food in your belly.
I walk through the aisles with my eyes on my phone, watching the three little bubbles bounce as Zach types.
Zach: My stomach just growled. Do you have ESP or something?
Me: Maybe.
I don’t, but I do know my brother. We’ve been in sync since life threw us a curveball with Mom. He’s always starving after a game, like I am after a long shift. I pocket my phone, snickering. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
When I look up, a familiar figure squats on his haunches, reading bandage boxes. My heart skips a beat. Granger’s as sexy from the back as he is from the front, even if he is a bit disheveled at the moment.
“Hey, stranger,” I say, surprising him from behind.
“Lauren, hey. Am I glad to see you.” He looks up and quickly gets to his feet, a mix of relief and something else in his eyes. He towers over me, rough around the edges, a quiet mountain of a man.
“Geez. What happened?” I reach for him, concern creeping into my voice. Blood seeps through his shirt just below his shoulder.
“Just a little issue with a stitch,” he says, pressing his fingers to the blood staining his shirt. “It’s nothing. I just need one of those butterfly bandage things.”
“Come on, let’s get you patched up properly.” My professional instincts kick in, overriding my exhaustion. I lead him to the checkout without waiting for his response. “My place is close.”
Tonight just took an unexpected turn I didn’t see coming.
***
Granger
Lauren’s home is everything I’d expect, practical and sparse, yet cozy and warm. Low lighting casts a golden glow over her kitchen. The refrigerator’s hum and the ticking of a nearby clock provide white noise to the otherwise quiet space.
She dabs an alcohol-soaked cotton round to the open wound on my shoulder, then administers a small dose of lidocaine. The sting is quick and sharp, but I barely flinch, focusing on her instead.
“What were you doing out so late?” I can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness. The thought of her wandering the streets at this hour makes my chest tighten. “Isn’t it dangerous for a woman to be out alone at night?”
I know she’s a grown woman. Fuck, I know she’s all woman. She’s perfectly capable of making her own decisions. Hell, she’s been doing it for years without my input. But that doesn’t blunt the instinct to keep her safe. She’s important to me, more important than I dare admit so soon. The idea of anything happening to her is unbearable.
“Not when brutish hockey players are lurking everywhere.” A playful glint reflects in her eyes.
I grin, loving her easy nature. The sting intensifies as she tugs and pulls, reinforcing my torn stitches. “Ouch,” I wince.
“My star cancer patient is braver than you.” She laughs softly. The amusement in her eyes makes my heart lighter. “She never complains. I don’t want to be the one to tell one of your fans that you’re scared of a little ole needle.”
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” I protest. “Just pointing out that it stings. And here I thought you were the one with a good bedside manner.”
“Careful,” she teases again. “I’m the one with the needle, remember?”
I like that we can banter. It helps fill the gaping hole inside me. Lauren’s touch is gentle yet highly skilled, much better than the botched job Daniel did earlier. She furrows her brow in concentration as she weaves the gash together with the precision of a surgeon.
“Tell me about this patient of yours, the one who’s a fan.” As much as I enjoy the push and pull of our friendly banter, I’d like to know more about Lauren and what a typical day looks like for her.
“She thinks you’re tough but nice.” Lauren catches my eye, that playful spark still shimmering in a sea of blue. “Like me.”
“I’ll take it.”
“We watched a little of the game tonight.” She moves slightly as she’s finishing up. Her leg brushes against mine, and I’d love to pull her into my lap. “She thought the player on the other team got what he deserved for throwing that punch. Life’s dealt her a pretty crappy hand, but she still sees things through the eyes of a child, expecting a right for every wrong.”
“I like her already.” If only life were as black and white as the kid sees it. “The guy who threw that punch is lucky he didn’t throw it at me.”
Lauren pauses and straightens to look at me. “That’s what Emily said.” Her expression softens as she smooths a fresh bandage over my shoulder. “Do you enjoy the fight, or does it have to do with what you hinted at before, your dad and expectations?”
A mix of emotions stirs in my gut. The sting of the alcohol and needle was nothing compared to the raw turmoil churning inside me now.
“Honestly? It’s more complicated than that. Standing my ground on the ice is how I release frustration, expectations, and the pressure to perform and succeed.” The weight of it all is often overwhelming, and I’m constantly pushing myself but getting nowhere. I need Lauren to know I’m better than all that. “It’s not what I want to be known for. I’m trying to change.”
“What do you want to be known for?” Her inquisitive eyes meet mine, full of understanding and no trace of judgment. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. A wise man once told me that.”
She winks, easing the seriousness of the conversation. I’m used to getting the third degree about changing my behavior, but no one’s ever tried to understand why I react to things the way I do. Lauren’s different. It’s no wonder she went into nursing. She really cares and takes the time to listen.
“Tell that to my dad.” I’m not used to opening up about my inner demons, but her genuine concern makes it feel okay–safe even.
“Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener, and–” she mimes a turned lock over her lips, and I know without her saying that my secrets are safe with her.
My heart beats wildly against my chest as I contemplate how much to tell her. Will she think less of me, feel sorry for me, or will I still find understanding in her eyes? I push my hesitation aside and take a chance.
“I got pushed around at school a lot when I was younger. I took it for a while until I finally cracked under the pressure and fought back. I thought my dad would be proud of me for taking charge and handling my problems.” My lungs feel heavy with the weight of my confession.
“But he didn’t,” Lauren states rather than asking.
“Worse, he didn’t care about how I felt, only how my behavior marred his image. I felt ashamed, like I’d done something bad.” I ball my hand into a fist, anger flaring in my gut as it does every time my father and I get into a disagreement. “And then I got angry. My own father wouldn’t stand up for me. What if other kids were bullied and felt helpless with no one to fight for them? I gave up trying to please him a long time ago.”
“That’s a lot to carry.” Lauren knits her brow. “Is that why you don’t hold anything back when you’re playing?”
“I’m compelled to fight for the underdog, for fairness. An eye for an eye.” A thread of panic weaves through me. Of all the people I need on my side, it’s Lauren. I need her to understand me. “I don’t act out for the hell of it if that’s what you think?”
“That isn’t what I think.” She rests her hand gently on my arm, her touch grounding me. “I think you care more than you allow the world to see. I understand more than you know.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. We stare at each other, connecting in a way words wouldn’t do justice. Lauren has carried her share of burdens, which she did it with purpose and out of love. She held everything together when her mom was sick, caring for her and easing Zach’s guilt for chasing his hockey dream. She carried the weight of her family’s struggle and continues to do so with the young cancer patients she cares for.
Her empathy and strength draw me in beyond the physical attraction. She knows what it’s like to shoulder heavy stuff and keep pushing through when things get tough.
The air between us is charged, thick with an electric current that’ll either shock us or breathe life into what remains unspoken. I brush a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering longer than necessary. Her eyes lock onto mine, a silent understanding passing between us.
I tug her gently toward me, and she leans in. Our breath mingles as I cup her cheek in my palm. When our lips finally meet, it’s soft and tentative. Everything melts away–the past, the pain, and the nagging doubts.
I pull her into my lap as the kiss deepens. She wraps her arms around my neck and straddles my legs. Our bodies meet, and arousal takes over. The gentle kiss grows passionate and feverish. All that matters is the two of us and the electric spark that brings us together.