Just please let my son be okay.
They pulled into a bay at Manistee General and Nick waited while the EMTs unloaded the gurney from the back of the ambulance then followed them inside. An ER doc—the same woman who’d handled Nick’s meningitis patient days earlier—met them at the entrance in a gown and mask, fully gloved and ready to go. She gave Nick a quick nod of recognition before getting the rundown from the EMTs. Several nurses and techs joined their group as they made their way toward an open trauma bay.
“Sounds like a possible arterial bleed,” the ER said as they transferred Connor from the gurney to the hospital bed while Nick stood off to the side. No way was he letting his son out of his sight again, good care or not. “He’ll lose blood fast, if that’s the case.”
“Blood pressure’s high,” a nurse said, ripping the Velcro of the cuff off Connor’s injured arm. “One twenty-six over eighty-four.”
Nick’s own pulse skyrocketed.
“All right,” the ER doc said, smiling down at Connor. “I know it hurts, but I need to take a look at your wrist, okay?”
Connor looked at Nick and he moved in beside the bed, taking his son’s right hand. “It’s okay, Con. I’m right here with you. I promise.”
“Okay.” He nodded and tightened his grip on his dad’s hand as the ER doc peeled away the bloody gauze from Connor’s left wrist. “Ow, ow, ow!”
If Nick could’ve taken the agony on himself, he would have. Proper punishment for his failures. Instead, all he could do was stand by helplessly and watch as the ER team worked.
“Good, Connor. You’re doing great,” the doctor encouraged, peering down at the wound. “Can you open up your fingers the whole way?”
His son did as the doctor asked and a bit of the tension constricting Nick’s chest unfurled.
“Nice, Connor. Okay.” The ER doc looked up at Nick. “He’s got good motor function. Good pulses, as well. I’d say we’re lucky and it looks like a venous bleed through the muscle only, not arterial. And the tendons look intact, as well.”
Nick exhaled his pent-up breath and gave his son what he hoped was a confident smile. “That’s good, son. Real good. You’re going to be all right.”
Connor nodded, the fear in his eyes shifting to relief. “Okay.”
“Right.” The ER doc straightened as the nurses and techs buzzed around her, checking the monitors hooked up to his son. “What team do you play for?”
“Mighty Pucks.”
“I play on the staff soccer team here at the hospital every Sunday. Accidents happen. You try not to get hurt or break anything but, yeah.” She glanced at Nick again. “Don’t worry, Dr. Marlowe. Once this is healed, your son will be back on his skates and playing as soon as he can hold a hockey stick again.”
Nick nodded then allowed one of the nurses to escort him down the hall to the waiting area while they got Connor stitched up. She offered him something to drink, but he declined. The nurse left and he slumped in his seat, wondering how such a great day could go south so fast.
All my fault.
The words continued to loop through his head even though his rational brain knew better. Still, between the guilt and the anxiety and the overall exhaustion of the past two weeks, it was more than he could fight.
He was done. He’d tried opening up with Belle and look where it had gotten him.
She was leaving anyway. Best to end it now so he could focus on his son again.
“There you are,” Belle said, running through the automatic doors at the ER entrance and over to his side. “I got here as soon as I could. How’s Connor?”
Nick filled her in on the ER doc’s findings, his voice robotic, even to his own ears. “They’re fixing him up right now.”
“I’m so glad. When I saw all the blood on the ice, I suspected an arterial laceration.” She took the seat beside his and stared up at the ceiling. “All things considered, you couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Belle,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry?” She looked over at him.
“I can’t do this anymore.” He gestured between them. “Us. I thought I could. I thought I could open up and let myself be with you temporarily, and it would be okay, but it’s not. Look what happened to Connor. I let myself get distracted and everything went to hell. I can’t allow that to happen again. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. Connor has to be my top priority, now and always.”
“Hey.” She reached over to take his hand, but he pulled away. “This isn’t your fault, Nick. You’ve been through a shock. Take some time to rest, get Connor home and we can talk later. I’ll pick up dinner for you guys and drop it off. Tomorrow we’ve got the free clinic and—”
“No. I’m sorry, but I’m done.” He stood and looked down at her, his heart breaking even as he knew this was the right thing to do. She had her life and he had his. Trying to mix the two had only led to disaster. “I’ll be there for clinic tomorrow, but otherwise it’s best if we don’t see one another again outside work.”
She blinked up at him, as the warmth in her was replaced by sadness. “Um...okay. Sure. Fine. I understand.” Belle pushed to her feet as well, avoiding his gaze as she pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll just...uh...call a cab to pick me up.”
Shit. He’d forgotten she’d driven his SUV here in all the craziness. “No. I’ll take you home.”
“No, no. You’re right. We should be done.” Her voice broke a little and part of him died inside. He didn’t want to hurt her. Had never meant to hurt her. But it seemed that was their destiny. She sniffled then tapped on her screen. “There. Done. My ride’s on its way.”
Belle slid the phone back into her bag then glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’ll wait over here. See you in the morning.”
He wanted to respond, to tell her to come back, to beg her to stay, but it was all over now. Their fling was done and soon she’d be gone. His life would go back to normal. Just him and Connor and lots of long, lonely nights ahead. He’d get through it because that’s what he did.
He wouldn’t fail Vicki’s memory, or their son, again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER A SILENT car ride back to Bayside, Belle paid her driver then climbed out to stand on the snowy sidewalk in front of Aunt Marlene’s place, watching the glow of the vehicle’s taillights disappear around the corner. It was near dusk now and she felt weary to her bones. She slogged inside and flipped on the lights to pull off her soggy boots.
The house was quiet, too quiet, after the hustle and bustle of the hockey game and then the ER. She shouldn’t feel so sad, but she did. Nick ending it all this afternoon had been tough, no matter that she should’ve expected it. With his son getting injured, on top of the guilt still lurking beneath the surface, all of his buttons had definitely been pushed. As a physician well trained in the psychology of her patients, it was a no-brainer. Nick might be a doctor, but when it came to his son’s health he’d reverted back to his comfort zone of guilt and Belle had been left out in the cold. Literally.
With a sigh, she padded to the kitchen in her stockinged feet and made a nice cup of tea, hoping it would ease the ache in her chest and soothe the thoughts racing through her mind. At least Connor was okay. Her heart—which should never have been involved in this mess to begin with—was broken, but she’d survive. She’d suck it up and hide the anguish deep inside, just like she’d done the last time Nick had let her go. Just like she’d done when her parents had died. Just like she was doing with Aunt Marlene passing and the end of her time here in Bayside.
She refused to sit around and feel sorry for herself. She’d keep busy. Lord knew, there was still plenty to get done in her aunt’s house before she put it on the market and moved on after Christmas.
Carrying her mug with her, she picked up an empty box in the living room then
shuffled to the den to begin packing away the rest of Aunt Marlene’s knickknacks. She’d gotten most of the other rooms cleared over the past eight days but had left this one for last. It was the most personal of her aunt’s spaces, the one she’d used as her home office and a storehouse for her most treasured mementos.
As she removed each of the framed degrees off the wall with great care, all the repressed sadness and nostalgia inside Belle welled to the surface, despite her wishes, causing her nose to itch and her eyes to sting. She wrapped each frame in tissue paper before tucking the certificate safely in the storage box. Once those were done, next came the local awards for community service, then finally the photos.
Belle couldn’t help but smile as she traced her fingers over the pictures. Here was one of her and Aunt Marlene at the county fair shortly after Belle had come to live with her. Another showed her and her aunt at Belle’s eighth-grade graduation, a lanky, goofy Nick in the background making bunny ears above Belle’s head. Yet another showed a smiling and affectionate Belle and Nick before prom. He’d worn a scarlet bowtie and suspenders with his black tux to match the color of her strapless chiffon dress. Both of them had on their rhinestone king and queen crowns and lovesick, silly grins.
Later that night he’d told Belle he was breaking up with her.
Things between them had been so fun and so magical...until they hadn’t been anymore.
Kind of like today.
Dammit.
Her vision blurred and she blinked hard. She wouldn’t cry over this. She wouldn’t.
She’d gone into this whole affair with her eyes open. It was temporary.
It was over. End of story. Get over it. Move on.
Cursing herself inwardly, she swiped the back of her hand across her damp cheeks and shoved more mementos into the box. She had the clinic to think about in Beverly Hills. She had her successful practice and a promotion waiting for her in California. She was not the same pathetic loser she’d been back in high school the last time Nick had walked away from her, no matter how it might feel now.
Belle pulled their prom picture off the wall and wrapped it tightly in paper before shoving it in the box with the rest of the stuff. Done. She moved on to her aunt’s desk. Inside the top drawer were the usual office supplies—pens, paper clips, a stapler, a few rubber bands and a letter opener. She boxed those up too then proceeded to drawer number two.
This one contained duplicate copies of her aunt’s ledgers for the clinic. Belle took those out and set them on the desktop. She’d get those to the attorney’s office before she left Bayside. They’d fixed up the clinic but given the current real estate market the property would still be a tough sell. Perhaps showing prospective buyers the need for affordable health care in this area would entice their interest.
A glance at the clock showed it was only 8 p.m., but with the lack of sunlight and her exhaustion it felt more like midnight to Belle.
Her heart pinched as she crouched to clear out the final drawer at the bottom. Inside were a few legal pads and an empty scrapbook. Belle pulled them out to put them in the box with the rest of the stuff, then noticed an envelope clipped to the outside of the scrapbook along with another photo of Belle, Nick, and Marlene—this one taken at the clinic. Belle’s name was scrawled across the front of the envelope in her aunt’s cursive handwriting.
Belle swallowed hard and traced her fingers over the letters, her tears flowing again. Grief over losing her aunt and hurt over ending things with Nick melded with the deeper loss of her parents and her old life here in Bayside. Belle sobbed as she held the envelope to her face and inhaled her aunt’s scent—lavender soap and antiseptic. If she closed her eyes, it was almost like Aunt Marlene was in the room with her. She rested her back against the wall and slid down to the floor behind the desk, her fingers trembling as she opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. It was dated late October, about a month before her aunt had passed.
Dearest Belle,
Bayside has always been my home and I love it with all my heart, just as I love you. But if you’re reading this note it means I’m gone. Please don’t mourn for me too long. I had a full and wonderful life with lots of friends and you to keep me company.
I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished in your life, just as your parents would have been. You are my daughter, if not by birth, then by love. You have more courage and strength and heart than anyone I know, and you are a true blessing to your patients and to all of us who love you.
But I hope being back in Bayside has reminded you there’s more to life than success and money. This town is a good place, and there’s a real need for your talents here, Belle. You could make a good life and a real difference right here in your hometown.
I’m not trying to force you into anything or make your choices for you, just making sure you see all your options. Regardless of what you decide for your future, Bayside will always be your true home.
Think about it. That’s all I ask.
Love always,
Aunt Marlene
After fetching some tissues, Belle sat behind her aunt’s desk for a long time, thinking about everything. The truth of her aunt’s words resonated in her heart. There was a need here. She’d seen it herself with Analia. She could make a difference, even if she and Nick weren’t together, and honestly that’s all she’d ever wanted. She sighed and lowered her head.
Being here, living in Bayside again would be difficult without Nick, seeing him every day and not being with him, but she’d cope. The same way she’d coped with being the new kid on the block in Beverly Hills. The same way she’d coped with clawing her way to the top of her profession. The same way she’d coped the first time Nick had said goodbye.
If she stayed in Bayside, she could work out of the old clinic, live here in this house, start a new life from the ashes of her old one. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt right.
Still, she wanted to sleep on such a major decision.
Considering the day she’d had, waiting until morning made sense.
After a yawn and a stretch, Belle headed for bed.
* * *
Nick awoke before dawn on Christmas Eve morning and automatically reached for Belle, before he realized there was only cold mattress beside him. Damn. He covered his eyes with his arm and groaned. All he could picture in his mind was Belle’s stricken expression from the day before when he’d told her they were done.
Chances were high he might have overreacted a bit. He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
Okay, a lot.
Idiot.
Opening himself up again to love after years of living in self-imposed denial had been difficult, to say the least. He felt vulnerable and raw and irrational in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. Then yesterday, when he’d seen Connor lying there on the ice, surrounded by blood and crying in agony, every one of his old demons had raced right back to sucker punch him in the gut. He’d immediately closed up, battened down the hatches, circled the wagons. He withdrew, he conquered, he persevered. It’s what he’d done after he’d broken up with Belle back in high school. It’s what he’d done after Vicki died. And it’s what he’d done yesterday.
Such an idiot. A pathetic, gutless idiot.
He lay in the dark and listened to the wind whistle past the frosty windows. Never mind Belle had been there to support him, that she’d tried to comfort him and point out what had happened to Connor wasn’t his fault. Hell, he of all people should’ve known accidents happened in hockey. He’d played enough of the sport himself and had the scars to prove it. No amount of watching over his son could have prevented what had happened yesterday.
Loneliness threatened to pull him under, but he forced it aside and got up, pulled on a pair of jeans from the day before then padded down the hall to check on Connor. Nick had been up every two hours or so to look in on his son and make sure he was comfortabl
e and not in pain. When he peeked into Con’s bedroom, the kid was still snoring away, the white bandages encasing his left wrist glowing in the early morning gloom.
With a sigh, Nick shut the door then went downstairs to start some coffee.
If he was honest, he’d been using his promise to Vicki to push Belle away because he’d been hurting. He didn’t want to let her go. Which made no sense, but there it was—he’d pushed her away before she could leave him behind.
Genius. Not.
Yeah, he felt like a real Einstein at the moment. God, he was a doctor. He’d spent more time in school than he’d spent out of it. He was an intelligent guy, a respected part of his small community, yet when it came to his personal life, he was a mess. He tried to put on a brave front, tried to project confidence and control, but in reality he didn’t control anything.
Especially the last two weeks.
Belle’s image flashed into his mind again—how prim and proper she’d been the night of her aunt’s funeral, how she’d gradually loosened up the longer she’d been around him and Connor, how she’d really begun to open up around them. Those thoughts quickly shifted to their kiss at the tree lighting ceremony, the first night they’d made love, the day at Santa’s Workshop.
In truth, looking back, the past two weeks hadn’t been a mess at all. In fact, they’d been pretty wonderful, because of Belle. She’d made him laugh again, live again, love again, despite his wishes to the contrary.
Find love again. Be happy. Promise me...
Vicki’s words returned to his head, making him wince.
Another failure on his part.
Belle had never said the words, but she’d cared about him. Maybe not love, not yet, not on her part anyway, but certainly on his. Then he’d shut her down. Just like last time.
With a groan, he leaned his hips back against the counter as the coffeemaker gurgled away and the rich aroma of fresh brew filled the air. Today was the big day. The free clinic they’d worked so tirelessly to reopen. He should’ve felt happier about that than he did. Instead he just felt tired. Tired of making the same stupid mistakes over and over. Tired of living like a monk under his self-imposed burden of his guilt. Tired of failing those he loved. How he’d fix things and change his actions in the future, he wasn’t sure yet, but, dammit, he was determined to try. He just prayed it wasn’t too late. With Connor or with Belle.
A Mistletoe Kiss for the Single Dad Page 14