15. Cal
Chapter fifteen
Cal
Cal
R uth’s dark baby hairs had matted to her forehead, which still gleamed with a sheen of sweat. Her eyelashes lay delicately against her cheeks, trembling as she twitched through a dream. She’d fallen asleep finally, but I’d had to up her pain meds a good amount to ease her out of her nervous shaking and intense pain. Although I’d given her local injections, and the pain should have been mitigated, the entire procedure had been a little harrowing. The splinter of wood had embedded itself in the subcutaneous layers of flesh over her bony knee, and even local anesthetic couldn’t do much for the pressure and prodding involved in getting it out.
Fortunately, I’d had Michael drop off our portable scan lab, and a quick ultrasound while I still had her numbed up had given me peace of mind that I’d gotten all of the debris out. Michael had also taken her blood samples to the lab. Hopefully, they would tell me if the amoxicillin I was running through her IV was sufficient. At the very least, the fluids and meds were helping.
It was a relief to see her asleep after watching her writhe in pain. I found another fleece blanket in her closet, and keeping my footsteps light over her beige carpets, I returned to her and laid it over her shivering body. The antipyretics were doing a good job with her fever, but intravenous fluids were always a little chilly. I sat in the chair next to her couch, and unable to help myself, I smoothed those baby hairs away from her temples. I traced the soft lines of her face with my eyes, smiling faintly. She had indents on the bridge of her nose from her glasses, and her lips were cracked from dehydration, but somehow, I still found her unbearably irresistible.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and not wanting to wake her, I stood again. I went into the kitchen only a few feet away and leaned against her yellow Formica countertop as I answered. “This is Dr. Reed.”
“Hey, it’s Annie. We have your results back for the CRP and CRP.”
I checked my watch. It was five in the evening, so that had been pretty fast. “What do you have for me?”
“I sent them to your email. White blood count and CRP are elevated, but neutrophil is only slightly over the average range.”
“Hemoglobin and hematocrit?” I asked, putting her on speaker and pulling up my email .
“Normal range.”
“Thank God,” I muttered, tapping on the uploaded report.
“Yeah.” Annie paused. “Dude, I have to know—is this the same Ruth Coldwell that set you up with that shitty date?”
“Yeah,” I laughed softly, glancing up like I might see Ruth. But she was on the other side of the wall of the tiny kitchen. “She was my date Friday.”
“Oh my God.” Annie sounded equal parts astonished and gleeful. “This is fantastic. I mean, not fantastic that she’s sick, but it’s so romantic . You swooped in and saved her all hero-like.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll fill you in on more later. For now, I need to get her POC squared away before I head out.”
“Sure. Need anything else?”
I ran through Ruth’s symptoms in my head, but I’d come well prepared as it was. “No. Did you have any trouble rescheduling my patients?”
“There’s one I was hoping you would see,” Annie said, and I heard her clicking her mouse. “Geraldine Sarrow. She reported chest pain, but she says she’s not going anywhere and only wants to see you.”
“Geraldine,” I sighed. She had chronic heartburn that manifested as chest pain, but it was best to make sure it wasn’t anything worrying all the same. “Alright. I’ll get Ruth situated here and head over there. Thanks, Annie.”
“Have a good night, Dr. Hero. ” I heard the grin in her voice, and she hung up before I could snap back.
“Not a single one of them respects me,” I muttered, zooming in on Ruth’s report. After reading it top to bottom, and feeling reassured that the amoxicillin would knock out her infection, I returned to the living room. I’d already cleaned up and packed away my supplies after her procedure, so I sat back down at the chair and angled it toward the table I’d moved into the living room. The air conditioner churned to life, blasting my face with a blissful waft of cold air. Ruth’s apartment was so small, it only hummed for thirty seconds before shutting off again and leaving the air cool and tinged with the scent of antifreeze.
I wasn’t sure which pharmacy Ruth used, so I pulled out my prescription pad from my leather bag and wrote her a prescription for antibiotics and another for a decent painkiller. Then I pulled on another pair of gloves before I turned in my chair and clicked the clamp on the IV closed. I knew it would wake her, but I ripped open an alcohol pad and scrubbed the IV port taped against her skin.
Sure enough, her eyes fluttered open, landing on me with bleary confusion. I smiled, waiting for the alcohol to dry. “Sorry to wake you.”
Ruth blinked fast, inhaling sleepily and starting to sit up. “Oh, s’okay. How long was I asleep?”
“About two hours. I’m going to disconnect your saline bag and lock your IV port. I’d like you to keep it in just in case that infection gives us trouble.” I hovered my hands over the tape on her arm. “Sound okay?”
“Sure,” she rasped out. She gave me a sleepy blink. “Are you… I mean if you’re—” She frowned, blinking hard. “Wait.” She patted around her lap until she found her glasses. With her good arm, she slid them back into place. “You’re leaving?”
I nodded reluctantly. “Yes, I have to go check on another patient. Can you have Gemma come over to help you tonight?” I peeled away the tape with as much efficiency as I could, but I knew that part always stung.
“Yeah, of course.” Ruth winced as I removed the rest of the tape. “She’ll insist on it anyway.”
“I can tell,” I said honestly. When I reached for the syringe of saline, she stiffened. I angled a reassuring look her way. “It’s just a saline flush.”
“Oh.” She pushed her glasses against her face even though they hadn’t gone anywhere. “Right.”
I disconnected her primary IV line and connected the extension tubing to her port. Pushing the plunger on the saline flush, I said, “I have a patient who’s asking for me, so I’m going to check in on her. I want you to stay off your knee if you can.” I clamped the saline line, and briskly, I unhooked the syringe before curving the tube up and taping it back down. “The antibiotics I gave you through the IV will hold you over for the night, but tomorrow morning you need to fill those prescriptions,” I tilted my head toward the table behind me, “and make sure you take them.”
“Sure.” Ruth watched me, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. I had the sudden urge to suck it right back out with my mouth. “Thank you. I don’t know how insurance works with these sorts of things, but I’ll call your office tomorrow. ”
“Don’t. It was my fault you got hurt in the first place.” I gathered everything up, and stripping off my gloves over the papers and packaging, I tossed it all into the red trash receptacle I would take back to the center to dispose of. “I’ll handle it.”
Her face went a soft shade of pink. “I can’t do that, Cal.”
“Ruth.” I took her hands in mine. “You can. And relax.”
She glanced down at our hands, and then back to me. “I still can’t believe you even bothered to come help me after I ditched you.”
“Ouch,” I grimaced for dramatic effect. “Ditched is such a harsh word. What happened to my ego?” I let go of her hands, but only so I could lean forward and circle her waist with my hands. She noticed what I wanted to do, and started to help me sit her up, but I lifted her into a sitting position before she could accidentally pull at the stitches in her knee. “I’ve got you, Shortstop.”
She pushed at her glasses. “I don’t think your ego needs any help.”
I grinned. “You might be right. I’m a little on the cocky side.”
Her lips twitched. “Good thing, I guess.”
I indulged in another fast perusal of her full lips and gray eyes, following the gentle slope of her heart-shaped face and square chin. My heart clenched at the thought of what might have happened if I hadn’t shown up. “Good thing,” I agreed quietly. A little louder, I added, “I’ll take one more round of vitals, and then I’ll be out of your springy hair.”
Ruth pulled a face, putting her hand to her messy curls. “ Yikes.”
I smiled, pulling out the infrared thermometer from my bag. “I like your hair, for the record.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled. She set her hands in her lap, playing with the pilling on the tortilla-print blanket. I imagined her all wrapped up in it like a cute little Ruth burrito, and I had to fight a laugh.
I pointed the thermometer at her forehead, and her eyes crossed a bit as she looked up at it. I snorted as the display read 103.4. “Better,” I said noncommittally. I entered it into her chart I had pulled up on my phone. “Give me your finger.” She held up her pointer finger on her left hand, her eyes shimmering with a quiet kind of interest as she watched me. I slipped the pulse ox on her finger. “What are you thinking?”
She hesitated, letting her hand fall to her lap and watching the blue light that blinked on the display. Finally, her voice sounded strained as she confessed, “I’m thinking, please don’t put your hand down my shirt with your stethoscope.”
I paused on my way to my bag for my blood pressure cuff. “Pardon?”
“The, you know, the thing.” She nodded toward my bag. “With the stethoscope. I really think you shouldn’t—I mean I might actually light on… fire…” she finished with a swallow.
My open mouth curved into a smile. Slowly, I leaned to my right and then lifted the stethoscope from my bag. I let it dangle between us. “You mean this?”
Her entire face went salmon red. “Yeah,” she squeezed out .
I flattened my lips together, fighting hard against another laugh that might add to her obvious embarrassment. But she was watching me with rapt attention, her full lips parted slightly and her breasts rising and falling fast. She was wearing a faded, heather gray nightshirt that had several buttons undone to the gap in her cleavage, and I wondered how easy it might be to undo the rest of them down to her navel. I glanced down at the pulse ox on her finger, and my smile darkened as her heart rate climbed from 101 to 110 to 119, and kept on spiking. I hooked her light eyes with mine. Her breath hitched, and her fists tightened around the blanket.
Still doing my best to school my features into a semblance of seriousness, I leaned forward, propping my left knee on the couch at her hip. With the stethoscope bunched in my right hand, I leaned my weight on the back of the couch, and with my left, I reached out with tentative fingers for her jaw. Ruth lifted her chin to meet me, lashes flaring and mouth opening with an inhale of surprise when I cupped her cheek. I leaned over her, reveling in how soft her skin felt beneath my fingers. “You don’t want me to touch you, Ruth?”
“I, um,” she gusted out. She licked her lips, glancing down my torso, and then back up. “I think the problem is that I do.”
I slid my fingers around her neck, cupping the back of her head and angling my mouth over hers. “How about now? You still want me to touch you?”
“Uh-huh.” She sounded as dazed as I felt. Lust roared to life inside of me, crackling along my nerve endings and setting my skin on fire. The small part of her that I had managed to cradle in my palm suddenly wasn’t enough. I wanted her. All of her.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth again, and this time, I closed the distance between us and gave in to my impulse. I licked at the tight line pulled taut between her white teeth, and as she sucked in a surprised breath, she released that full lip. I sucked it between my tongue and teeth, drawing her up to meet my mouth. I released her lip, but then our lips sealed in a soft, slow kiss. She let out a little moan that went straight to my groin.
Her hands came up to grasp the front of my shirt, and to my surprise, she tugged me down closer. I shifted my weight to keep from putting any of it on her, deepening our kiss with starving desperation.
Had I been so hungry for Ruth all along? I had, I realized. As her soft lips sucked and explored, I realized that I had been in a famine since Friday night, and this kiss might be bringing me back from the brink of insanity. I slanted my mouth over hers, moving my hand to her neck and down her silky collarbone, following the line of her nightshirt.
She gasped, and her hands tightened on my shirt. I nearly fell on top of her, but my hand on the back of the couch managed to keep my little matchmaker from accidentally flattening her body under my weight. I wasn’t about to make her knee any worse than it already was. I flicked my tongue along the top of her teeth, and she sighed, opening her mouth for me.
Je-sus. I’d have lost a bet that wagered Dr. Coldwell was a greedy kisser. It felt good to be wrong. I let her battle for dominance, filling my mouth with her small, pink tongue before I nipped her lip and eased away the hurt with a softened, lingering kiss.
My watch buzzed on my left wrist, startling Ruth. She pulled away with a surprised start, and her lips tucked inward, like she was embarrassed.
Geraldine. Patients. Dammit. Breathing hard, I pressed my forehead against hers and cupped her cheek again. “I’m sorry Ruth. I forgot about my other patient.”
She nodded, blowing out a calming breath. “Of course. I’m—I didn’t mean to—God, I’m so embarrassed.”
“Why?” I pulled away, frowning. “I’m the one who’s acting unprofessionally.” She sniffed, adjusting her glasses, and stared up at me with those wide, yellow-ringed eyes. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of her neck and unravel her in every way.
“I’m not usually like this,” she offered weakly.
“What, hot as fuck?” I asked with half a grin. I eased away from her reluctantly. The metal from my stethoscope bit into my palm, reminding me that I was supposed to be taking her vitals.
She pulled her mouth to the side uncertainly, looking away. “Right.”
I considered her for a few brief seconds. If what Ruth had told me was true, and she’d endured the worst kind of rejection, then I could believe that she struggled to comprehend her own worth. I still fought with insecurities of my own. For the longest time, I hadn’t felt like I belonged in my parents’ beautiful home. I’d worked harder than my other classmates to prove that I deserved their affection. I had taken control of every aspect of my being from my body to my mind if only to prove that I could be enough. Be worth enough.
It had been a slow, painful lesson to realize that my worth didn’t come from the value others placed on me. It came from me. Only I could decide I was worthy of being loved, and only I could decide that I was capable of offering it. I wasn’t perfect, and my perceived rejection from Ruth had shaken me enough to miss a crucial detail from that night. I remembered the way she had looked equal parts despaired and embarrassed. I remembered the way she’d reached for me with her eyes while pulling away with her body.
Ruth didn’t think it was real.
She didn’t think I was real.
She didn’t think that someone truly adoring her could be a reality.
Ruth expected me to reject her. What she didn’t know was that I was more competitive than every med school graduate put together. If I wanted to smash through expectations, then better believe I would barrel straight through them and then some. If Ruth expected me to reject her, then I would simply have to prove her wrong one moment at a time.
I uncoiled the stethoscope and brought it to my ears, watching Ruth closely. When she brought her eyes to mine again, I lifted my eyebrows. “Are you ready for me, now, Shortstop?”