Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Brax
Every single day as I climbed out of bed, I reminded myself to hold Mia D’Angelo at arm’s length. To be friendly, yet keep her at a distance.
But every single day, I failed. Because Mia wasn’t like any other resident. She wasn’t like any other woman, period.
I was feeling the struggle at eight on a Thursday morning as I scrubbed my hand over my unshaven jaw and took a gulp of old, cold coffee. Mia stood in the middle of the ward conversing with one of our hematology-oncology attendings, Dr. Laura March. My good friend Gabe sat charting at a nearby computer, a refugee from the toddler ward who often snuck over here where there was less commotion.
Mia and Dr. March were at the beginning of rounds, where they would stop at each room to discuss the daily plan for each patient, basically making a square lap around the nurses’ station.
I glanced up nervously, following their progress. The problem was that I knew something Mia didn’t about her favorite patient. The question was, should I tell her?
Three rooms down, they’d soon stop to see an eleven-year-old named Rylee Hunter with newly diagnosed acute lymphocytic leukemia, the most common type of childhood cancer—which also happens to be one of the most curable.
Part of our jobs as physicians was to constantly walk a tightrope between caring about our patients and not getting too involved. So we could ensure our objectivity and make good decisions. Care, but not too much. Sort of what I’d forced myself to do with Mia.
Mia, for some reason, took this particular family—Rylee, with her brunette hair and big blue eyes, and her twin sister, Reagan, who had the same bright eyes but blonde hair—to heart. I worried about her because childhood cancer was a heart-wrenching roller-coaster ride—that was obvious. Yet I also knew that Mia was amazing with all the kids on the heme-onc service, big or small. She had a gift for talking with them and their families and helping care for them, medically and emotionally, that I felt was exceptional.
I wished she would see it too. That way, we wouldn’t be in competition for the job I wanted more than anything. But whatever she chose to do, I knew she’d be amazing at it.
Just as I debated pulling her aside and letting her know the results I’d just gotten from the lab, Dr. Ted Brunner walked up to the nurses’ station. He was the senior member of Milwaukee’s best pediatric group, the “B” in BCP. “Dr. Hughes,” he said in a jovial tone, “how ya doing, buddy?” He stretched out his hand for a shake. “I stopped by to say hi to Rylee’s family. How’s she doing medically?”
I got up and shook his hand. “She’s a real trouper.” She’d tolerated all the scans, X-rays, and blood tests like a champ, and they were almost at an end. “You’re just in time to hear what Dr. March has to say.”
“Great, great,” he said. “They’re such a nice family. Sorry to see them go through this.”
Next to him was Robin Miller, the newest BCP associate, who also happened to be seven months pregnant.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Great. Nice to see you, Brax.” She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes. I felt better when she managed a wan smile.
“Robin, how about you read through Rylee’s chart and then meet me in the room?” Ted said.
“Sure thing, Dr. Brunner,” Robin answered. Which I thought was a little unusual. Robin had been a resident in our program, but once you were out, you usually called your partners by their first names.
“Great,” Dr. Brunner said, then turned to me. “Brax, walk with me for a sec, will you?”
When Dr. Brunner gave an order, most of us jumped. So of course I did, extra high. Hell, I would’ve run a few laps around the unit if that would have helped my case.
I wanted this job more than I wanted air to breathe.
It would be the culmination of a lifetime of struggle and heartache.
Dr. Atticus Pendergast, the “P” in BCP, who had been one of the founding partners sixty years ago, was the man I owed everything to. The currency he’d invested in me, despite our brief time together—how to be a person who strives to help others, how to not just survive but even thrive—had gotten me through a lot.
Even though he’d passed on years ago, I wanted to make him proud. Show him that despite all those years I’d spent in the foster system, all the hours of working three separate jobs and applying for every scholarship, taking every opportunity to get through college and med school—I’d finally made it, and now it was time to pay it forward.
Ted clapped me on the back and dropped his voice. “Brax, my boy, I wanted you to know that our group is very close to making a decision about our newest partner.” He beamed a big smile.
My heart began a slow, steady acceleration.
He laughed. “Don’t look so serious. Of course, you and Mia are both still in the running. You know our group is all about maximum efficiency. We’ve got the lowest wait times for our patients, and we’re the fastest at getting worried moms and dads appointments for their sick kids. That’s why we take the brightest, most-talented residents who can keep up with the intense demands of a busy practice.”
Dr. Brunner’s gaze drifted over to Robin, who was still sitting at the computer, sipping from a water bottle. Robin had been a very high-performing resident. She was well respected and well liked. I couldn’t guess what his point was.
I didn’t have to wonder for long. He dropped his voice even lower. “There are certain members of our practice who feel they shouldn’t have to pitch in and take call for someone just because they’re of a certain gender, if you know what I mean. I’m certainly all for diversity, inclusion, and equal rights, but we’re all working at maximum capacity. We want a new partner who can promise the same.”
Mia and I were both efficient and hardworking, but was he actually saying something that I couldn’t imagine in this day and age—that the group didn’t want to hire another woman?
I swallowed my shock. Half my mentors were women whom I liked and respected. Years ago, Atticus had chosen a female physician as his first partner. And if this was about balance and humane schedules—weren’t those things good for everyone? I got an odd, churning sensation in the pit of my stomach. One that made me wish I hadn’t heard what he’d just said.
I was still figuring out how to respond when Laura and Mia walked out of the room next to Rylee’s.
“Excuse me, Dr. Brunner.” I suddenly knew what I had to do, and that pushed thoughts of my would-be job right out of my brain as I took off toward them.
I mumbled something to Dr. March about needing a minute and then, before Mia could protest, grabbed her elbow and steered her a little way down the brightly lit hall. “The lab just called with Rylee’s bone marrow results,” I said.
Mia’s breath caught. She death-gripped my arm and went pale. Her deep green eyes, the color of what I’d always imagined the hills of Ireland might be like, were filled with worry. She trained them on me, scanning my face. “It’s bad news,” she said.
She always seemed to read me, no matter how neutral I thought I’d trained my expression to be. “Not bad, but challenging. Not insurmountable.”
“She’s got cancer cells in her spinal fluid.”
“Yes.”
Her grip on my arm tightened, and her eyes got a little teary. I was suddenly glad I’d been the one to tell her.
“It’s going to be okay,” I rushed to say. Damn, why did I just say that? It was unprofessional. I didn’t have a crystal ball, and cancer was scary in the best cases. She stared up at me in a way that filled me with the intense desire to do anything for her, like pull the moon out of the sky and hand it to her on a platter just to make her smile.
She called me out. “You can’t know that.”
“You’re right, I can’t.” I blew out a breath. No human did. “But I do know she’s getting the best care. We’ll make sure of it.”
She swiped at her eyes, and I could tell that she was upset. This wasn’t great news, but it wasn’t uncommon. Finding cancer cells in spinal fluid meant that the leukemia was present in the central nervous system. It meant more chemo, and more intrathecal chemotherapy, which was chemo injected directly into the spinal canal, but the odds were still very good that Rylee would come out okay.
“You can take a minute, and I’ll cover you,” I offered.
“Don’t need it.” She straightened up and took a deep breath.
“She’s got a great shot at a cure.” My words sounded weak, but I had to say something.
“I know,” she said. “I also know everything this family has to go through for the next two or three years.” She gave a little nod. “Thanks for telling me.”
“Come find me when you’re done, okay? We’ll do lunch. Maybe check out that new place with the smash burgers. What do you think?” That was the thing about Mia. I’d friend-zoned her, but I kept finding excuses to spend time with her. Which was pretty messed up, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
She managed half a smile. She cared deeply about all her patients, but I couldn’t help wondering what it was about this particular family that made her so emotional.
I walked back to the nurses’ station. Gabe was still there working. I sat down at another computer and began to chart on my patients. After a few minutes, I turned to the sound of my name. Drake Shelton, one of the pediatric surgical residents, walked up, immediately opened a box of Christmas chocolates that was sitting out on the counter, and stuffed two into his mouth. “Have you seen Mia?” he asked in a muffled voice.
“On rounds.” I gestured down the hall. He’d been coming around lately, doing what guys do when they’re interested. Pretending it was a total coincidence that he just happened to be passing by the unit when he had no patients here, complimenting Mia on what she was wearing, flirting with her. I knew his game, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I mean, the guy was a meathead. His muscles were the stuff of legend. He probably ingested a small cow daily to keep up all that bulk. Not to mention the Christmas cookies and homemade fudge, so plentiful at the hospital this time of year, that he was now carefully picking through as if he hadn’t eaten in a year.
But the real reason I disliked him was that he had a reputation. You know the kind. Like, there weren’t many female medical professionals in a three-floor radius that he hadn’t tried to sleep with.
Also, did he even like kids? There was a reason children’s hospitals were filled with nice people. They loved kids and somehow managed to balance the joy and heartbreak of daily life here. But Drake was impatient, short-tempered with the staff, and intolerant of spit-up, all no-nos in this world.
Whether I liked him or not didn’t matter because I had no claim on Mia, which meant that I had no choice but to tolerate his presence with gritted teeth. And with my hands fisted in my pockets so that I didn’t not-so-accidentally punch him.
Drake took a seat, stretching out his legs as if it were Saturday morning and not the beginning of a long and strenuous day. “I’ll wait. She texted that she needed to ask me something.”
Wait. She’d summoned him ? As if that hadn’t made my neck hairs stand up, Gabe looked up and went a little pale. “Can I talk to you for a sec?” He stood up and basically forced me to follow him down the hall until we halted right outside the on-call room door.
“I think you should know something,” he said, concern plastered all over his face.
“What is it?” As chief, half my days began with statements like that. Which could mean anything from one of my interns having difficulties dealing with the emotions of caring for sick kids, to conflicts with other residents or staff, to the fallout from two residents hooking up. That was my job, stamping out fires. While making sure I didn’t engage in any drama myself.
That was why Gabe, Mia, and I became friends. None of us were fire starters by nature, just competent, normal people who did their jobs and toed the line. Except I’d made a primary error. I broke my own rules. I’d gotten too close.
“Mia needs help.” Gabe cast an anxious glance toward Drake.
“Is she in trouble?” Outwardly, at least, I practiced measured patience. From the corner of my eye, I checked for Laura and Mia. They were still in Rylee’s room.
Gabe sighed. “She’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“Okaaay.” My brain kicked into crisis mode. Debt? Eviction? A medical error? Someone giving Mia a hard time? That was doubtful, since she got along with just about everyone.
“But if I don’t tell you, she might suffer even more.”
My veins turned to ice. Her mom was doing great, but what if something had happened? “Just tell me already.”
Gabe sighed. “She needs someone to go home with her for Christmas, no questions asked.”
Irritation swelled in me, despite Gabe’s good intentions. “That’s why you pulled me over here? I mean, you’re always matchmaking.” Now Mia was back in the hall, moving on to Marc Markeson’s room, a twenty-year-old with Hodgkin’s lymphoma who’d had a rough night of nausea from his chemo. I figured I had about five minutes before she finished rounds and walked back to the front desk.
“This isn’t matchmaking,” Gabe said emphatically. “This is?—”
“You know I can’t.” Mia and I had somehow managed friendship after what happened between us, but sometimes, things got awkward as hell. Like when she caught me staring at her. Or I’d catch her staring at me. Making me wonder if she was remembering the exact same things I was about our time together—how our chemistry had been off the charts, incredible. Too good to be true.
I’d done everything I could to stop the crazy attraction, but I might as well try to demagnetize a magnet. So maybe I couldn’t help it that she made my stomach do cartwheels or made me feel like Pedro whizzing around the ward on Rollerblades, but I didn’t have to act on it.
“Bottom line,” Gabe explained, not letting this go, “is that she needs to show up with a boyfriend because she told her mother she had one, and I can’t do it. And if you won’t do it, he will.” He nodded toward Dr. Suave, who was now flirting with one of our brand-new nurses. Ugh, no.
“She told her mother she had a boyfriend.” I wasn’t following.
“To help her get through her treatments, Mia sort of…embellished.”
“Embellished.” To handle a tough few months? Okay, understandable, I guess. Gabe somehow knew all about this.
But not me. I’d let her down, not just as a boyfriend, but also as a friend. I sucked.
Gabe was staring at Drake, who was now laughing and casually touching the nurse’s shoulder.
Nice. That had taken him one minute or less. My blood began a slow simmer at the thought of Drake trying to sweet-talk Mia. Or touch her. Let alone spend an entire long weekend pretending to be her boyfriend.
Why was she even asking him?
“You know I can’t go home with her,” I said, as much for me as for Gabe. “It would be…uncomfortable.”
“Maybe you’d like to talk about that sometime?” He folded his arms and cocked a brow.
I telegraphed him a look that said he was entering this discussion at his own risk.
“Okay, then, that’s between you two. But while you’re figuring that out, you should know that I wouldn’t interfere unless I thought she really needed you.”
Gabe was a fixer. He couldn’t help it. He was always trying to push himself into my personal life on the pretext of “helping.” He gave me a sad little shake of his head and a shoulder pat. “It’s okay to let yourself feel things.”
He felt sorry for me.
“Maybe psychiatry is your true calling?” I knew it was a bad joke, but I was on the defensive. My all-American looks fooled most people into thinking I was raised with apple pie and baseball and a fantastic family like I knew Mia had. And I did nothing to stop people from assuming that. In fact, I really didn’t talk about my past at all because it would blow that squeaky-clean image to shreds, and what would be the point? “I know you think I was a jerk to her.”
He’d been down this road with me before, trying to get me to talk about why I broke up with her, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t . Talking about emotions wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Or why it was so much safer for everyone to just stay friends. That way, no one got hurt.
“Do me a favor. At least talk to her,” Gabe said as he left for the toddler ward. As I headed back toward the nurses’ station, Mia walked out of the last room. A split second before I would’ve met up with her, Drake stood up and intercepted me.
“There you are,” he said, his big, athletic form suddenly standing right next to her, dwarfing her more petite one. He flashed her a toothy grin, ignoring me and effectively blocking me with his body.
Every muscle in my body tensed for action. Ironically, I’d just gotten exactly what I wanted: someone helping me to keep Mia at arm’s length. I wanted to push him aside and take my rightful place beside her. Yet I stood there, frozen in place, my feet glued to the floor solely by the conviction that I wasn’t the one for her.