Chapter 16
Sam
“Guess I’m going to tell Carmichael the bad news.” Cooper sighed, banging his fist lightly against an OSHA flyer hanging on the wall. They were everywhere on the executive level. He looked like he wanted to rip it down. “You want to come with? You can soften the blow, at least.”
“Can’t. I have the…thing.”
Lainey had been avoiding me. I wasn’t sure why, but ever since Jas’s scare a few days ago, I’d only seen her once for rounds. That wasn’t uncommon, but I missed how she’d recently found random excuses to seek me out. I knew she was busy, and I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except her texts had dried up, too.
Something had spooked her. I figured spending the afternoon with a woman who’d stolen her almost-fiancé was probably enough to do the trick, even if she hadn’t seemed too weirded out when I’d made it down there. Whatever it was, I felt like she was running scared. I wasn’t sure yet if it would be better to let her work it out on her own or push the issue by cornering her in a broom closet.
Every time I pulled out my phone to start a text, I remembered I was sort of her boss. Then I remembered her “no dating co-workers” policy. The last time she’d been serious with someone, it had crashed and burned so badly she’d self-isolated for years. Inevitably, I re-pocketed my phone.
“God. Good fucking luck. I can’t be in that room for one more minute.”
I glanced back down the hall at the conference room where a handful of the physician executives were still milling around, waiting for the next meeting. “It’s not their fault.”
Cooper snorted, jabbing the button for the elevator. “They’re just rolling over and taking it. What’s the point of a quality board if they’re just going to steamroll everyone?”
“Isn’t that exactly the point of a board?”
“Not in my OR.” Cooper jabbed again. “ Too risky. That woman will die without that surgery. Mark my fuckin’ words.”
Mrs. Harkness would likely die from her condition since the board had decided the LVAD was “too risky” for Cooper to undertake, not to mention the procedure was still considered fairly experimental. Implanting a mechanical pump into the patients left ventricle was not an everyday event. The board was only interested in nearly guaranteed successes.
In other words, they’d rather shove Mrs. Harkness out the doors with an apology than have her perish on our watch, even if the LVAD was her only hope.
It was a blow for everyone, including Cooper and Lainey, who’d been preparing for the surgery for weeks, but also for the rest of the department. This wasn’t the first time in the last few months the board had voted down a procedure, but they’d never gone against their golden boy Cooper’s recommendations. Now? No one was safe.
The elevator doors opened.
“Dr. Cooper. Dr. Reese. Great to see you again.” Nathan McDaniels stepped out. I hated him and his stupid face on a good day, but today…? Fuck him.
Still, I had responsibilities to uphold. Promises to keep. I offered my hand. “Dr. McDaniels.”
I didn’t have it in me to ask about the commute or lie and tell him it was good to see him again. Not after that clusterfuck of a meeting. The only salvageable thing that had come out of it was the green light on my ablation. That, at least, might make up for Lainey losing out on yet another surgery.
“I’m glad to be here. Can’t wait to learn more about your organization. My wife raves about it already. She mentioned seeing you down there recently.”
I jerked a nod to Cooper, who slumped, brooding in the elevator, and led McDaniels back down the hall to the conference room I’d just vacated.
“Just wrapped up another meeting. Let me see if everyone’s ready.” I nodded to the meeting room door, waving McDaniels into a plastic chair situated along the hallway wall.
“Oh. I was under the impression the first round interviews were just one-on-one.”
“We work by committee.” That, at least, the board hadn’t been able to dictate. Thank God for the HR department.
“Take your time. I know I’m a little early.” He eased into the chair, straightening his tie. I had to fight a sneer. Stupid face.
◆◆◆
“You were supposed to go home hours ago.”
“Stop. Touching. Me,” Lainey gritted, slapping my hand away from where it hovered an inch from her back. I didn’t bother to correct her. My day had started with that meeting from hell, continued with her ex, who insisted on a tour of the floor, and ended with two patients coding. Exhaustion dragged through every cell of my body. I wanted nothing more than to go home and fall asleep in my shower. Lainey had different plans.
I'd found her after I overheard LeeAnn, the nurse in charge of the floor tonight, warning the interns to stay away from Carmichael. “She’s on a tear,” she’d said.
I hadn’t believed it until I’d seen her myself, ripping into a resident for failing to add a patient’s new medication in the chart. I’d barely grabbed her before he’d teared up. Now, she was clinging to the doors of the locker room, doing everything she could to stay as far away from me as possible. Something panged in my chest.
If I’d had any doubt about her avoiding me, it was staring me in the face now.
“You can stop looking at me like that.” I shuffled to my locker, entering the combination twice before it clicked open.
“What were you doing wandering the halls with Nate this afternoon?” She said it like I had been the one to fuck her best friend. The ultimate betrayal. I was so, so tired.
“It’s standard procedure to give candidates a tour of the facility.” I didn’t want to be around the guy any more than she did, but it was part of the job, and I’d sworn that I’d be impartial.
“You knew he was going to be here.”
“You knew he was applying for the position, Lainey. Did you want me to share the full interview schedule with you?”
“You should have told me he was coming in today.” She jabbed me in the shoulder with a pointed finger. For someone who couldn’t get away from me fast enough, she’d sure beat a path over here. That finger should be registered.
“I can’t share information about candidates’ interviews with other candidates.” I scrounged in my bag for a protein bar. Took a bite without bothering to see what flavor it was.
“You didn’t think to even give me a little warning?” Jab.
My palms dug into my eye sockets, easing some of the dryness. I should probably grab some more water on the way out. But before I went anywhere, I had to stem the flow of Lainey’s meltdown. Or at least direct it some place other than me. “I wanted to tell you.”
“Wanted?” Jab. “You wanted”— jab— “to tell” —jab— “me!” J ab. “I don’t believe you.” Jab.
Alright. Enough of that. I captured her hand. Thankfully, we were the only two people in the room. No one was around to see her outburst or how my fingers slid against her pulse to calm her down.
“Even if I wanted to, how could I? You’ve been avoiding me since Tuesday.” She tried to pull her hand away, but I held tight. “Send a homing pigeon? Maybe that’d be able to track you down.”
She pulled again, and I let her slide out of my grasp. We studied each other for a moment while I chomped another bite of my protein bar. I wanted to kiss away the angry wrinkle of her nose.
“I haven’t been avoiding you.”
I took another bite.
“I wasn’t! And even if I was, it’s not like you tried too hard to get in touch with me,” she hissed, checking to make sure the room was still clear.
“Something spooked you last week. I didn’t want to make it worse.”
I launched the empty wrapper into a trashcan a few feet away. She glowered, looking exactly how I felt. Angry and tired. And under all that, maybe a little vulnerable.
“Listen. I know you’ve had a shit day with the LVAD getting canceled, and seeing your ex walk around probably didn’t help things. But you can’t get mad at me for giving you space when you seemed like you needed it.”
She glanced at her feet, so I did, too. We both studied her neon green sneakers for several seconds. She’d added bright purple laces sometime in the last week. They were achingly adorable. Colorful and bright and so very Lainey.
“We had to tell her she was going to die.” Her eyes flickered up, then back down again. “Me and Cooper. There’s no reason we couldn’t do the surgery.”
“I know.”
“It’s less of a risk than a full transplant. She doesn’t have enough time to wait for a donor heart.”
“I know.”
“Sam, she’s a thirty-six-year-old woman with three kids, and I just delivered her death sentence.”
“I know, Sweetheart.” My chest squeezed. Losing a patient was never easy. Telling them you were going to lose them was worse.
She swallowed, rocking onto her heels without making eye contact with me. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”
I checked the door before pulling her further into the row of lockers, out of sight, to wrap her in my arms. Something lightened from my shoulders when she collapsed against me, tucking her head under my chin like she was made to be there.
“It’s okay.”
Her ponytail tickled my chin as her head shook. “It’s not. And I have been avoiding you. That’s not okay, either.”
“Yeah, what’s that about?” I pressed my lips to the crown of her head because I couldn’t help myself. Despite having been at the hospital for over twenty-four hours, she still smelled like vanilla. And antiseptic. Like Lainey.
She sighed, tilting her head to rest her chin on my chest. Her face was inches from mine. “Katie freaked me out. I think she suspects something’s going on with us.”
I grunted, thinking while my fingers slid through her ponytail. The curls were soft, wild. “You think it’ll be a problem?”
“I don’t know. It just made me jumpy. I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” In another life, maybe I would have made her work for my acceptance. But I only had one life, and I only had this one girl. Dodging me for a few days wouldn’t make me give up on her. I was here for the long haul. The sooner she realized it, the better.
She smiled at my quick response. “I probably don’t deserve that.” We were whispering, voices low so we could hear if someone walked in.
“You’re not the only one who’s had a bad day. I’m just happy to see you.” Between the board and her ex and the patient crises, I was ready to call it and pull the covers over my head till morning, ideally with her in bed beside me, but I knew that couldn’t happen. Not tonight.
Not only had she been avoiding me for the better part of a week, but she had an early on-call tomorrow morning, then prep for a surgery with Cooper, and her first interview for the attending role. As much as I wanted to take her home and drown both our sorrows between the sheets, today wasn’t the day.
“You look tired.” Her fingers traced underneath my eyes. I’m sure I looked like a warmed-over sack of shit, but it was nice of her to sugarcoat it.
“You, too. Walk out with me. You can go home and sleep.”
Her brows pinched. This time, I indulged myself in smoothing the little wrinkle away, marveling at how easy this was, once we were on the same page. She felt right in my arms, leaning into my touch like she wanted more.
“I was just going to tough it out here tonight. I’m not on call but…I can’t go home. I’ll just toss and turn.” The sadness lurking behind her eyes made me want to punch something.
“Grab your stuff.” I stepped back, rummaging again through my bag and reminding myself to keep my hands off her when we were in public.
“I don’t want to go home right now, Sam.”
I handed her a protein bar. “We’re not going home.”