Chapter 15
Cain
At least I said goodbye last night. It’s a terrible justification for my behavior, but it’s all I can seem to muster. The truth is that I had to leave, even though I’d originally planned to stay.
Watching Patrick follow every order I gave him, watching him open himself up to me, hearing him beg me, tasting his desire for me…it was too much. And for the first time ever, I felt something after coming inside him.
More than just the usual possessive need to claim what belonged to me, I felt peaceful, satisfied, whole. Like I wanted more.
So, I showered, dressed, and got the hell out of Dodge as fast as I could, going so far as to change my flight to the redeye back to Boston.
When I woke up yesterday morning, disappointment welled inside me when there was no text from Patrick…and that’s how I knew I needed to get my shit together.
Being needy is his role. But that’s the problem. He isn’t reaching for more. His silence means he’s accepted my exit from his life, and I don’t like how that makes me feel.
I’m trying to shove those thoughts to the side as I review a medical chart for a case I have in the OR in twenty minutes, when knuckles rap on the door to my office.
It seems I’m destined to be distracted today.
Seconds later, my hospital administrator’s face comes into view, and my lips purse automatically.
“Dan,” I say with a nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” We both know if he’s in my office, nothing good is going to come out of his mouth.
“Can I come in?” he asks, stepping inside and shutting the door.
“It’s your building. You can do whatever you’d like,” I remind him.
“Boston Memorial is merging with Solace Healthcare,” he says without beating around the bush.
Solace Healthcare is a medical conglomerate that is trying its hardest to become a monopoly on the eastern seaboard. Their employee satisfaction rates are notoriously low, and their billing practices are questionable at best.
“You mean we’re selling out,” I state, returning his blunt delivery.
“No, we’re—”
“Whose name will be on the sign outside?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
Dan doesn’t speak for a long time, proving my point.
“We’re still keeping the Boston Memorial name…there will just be more to it,” he says, as if that makes this better. “Look, I knew you wouldn’t be happy about it, which is why I wanted to tell you in person. ”
“But it doesn’t change a damn thing, so you might as well have just sent it in an email.” Then, just because I’m the asshole everyone thinks I am, I add, “You know it’s your job they’ll take first, right?”
“Cain, I really need you to support this decision. For the life of me, I don’t know why, but everyone in this unit, including the OR staff, takes direction from you. If you fight this, they will too.”
“Oh, well, then by all means, let me pave the way for this hospital’s demise and make sure everyone else is on board with smiles as well. I’d hate for the administration to get their feelings hurt because they made an absolutely abhorrent decision,” I say sarcastically.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I ask, “When is this taking place?”
“Six months,” Dan says. “For what it’s worth, your contract will remain the same.”
“You’re damn right it will! That’s the point of a contract, Dan. If this hospital wants to sell its soul to the devil, I’m certainly not taking a pay cut in order to make it happen!”
He pinches the bridge of his nose as if he’s trying to stave off a headache.
“We’re making the official announcement in two weeks. Can you at least keep your thoughts to yourself and not stoke the fires?”
“Considering I’m not the one who made this decision, I don’t think I can be held responsible for the people’s reactions to it,” I tell him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a five-year-old with a congenital heart defect I need to save.”
I stand from behind my desk, grab my lab coat, and make my way to OR number six, trying like hell to push every thought out of my mind except the little kid who needs me to ensure he makes it out of this hospital alive.
By the time I finish the case, I’m spent. My hands are shaking from the adrenaline crash, and the edges of my vision are blurry. I’ve been awake for thirty hours at this point and desperately need to sleep.
Except I’m so exhausted that I’m wired and I know sleep will evade me.
Which is why I’m currently standing in the pediatric ICU, counting on the shadows to keep me hidden. Because my last patient is so young, his parents have been given beds in his room to be able to stay with him.
I find comfort in the rhythmic beeping of his monitor.
But it’s not long before my gaze drifts toward the kid’s parents. Mom and Dad are both awake. They’re talking quietly, as Dad rubs circles across his wife’s back, and I wonder what it’s like to have that kind of unwavering support.
What would it be like to go home and have someone waiting for me? To have someone I could share the burden of that kid’s case with…or the next case. To not eat dinner alone or climb into a cold bed.
Achieving everything I have has required my total focus and all of my energy, but I’m feeling worn a little thin.
After my night with Patrick, I felt a shift that I can’t afford.
I can’t possibly be a good partner and continue to be the number one ranked cardiothoracic surgeon in the world.
There just aren’t enough hours in the day.
But for the first time ever, maybe I wish there were.