by Stacy Borel
Wrigley chugged his own bottle of water. “Sure I would. I do relationships all the time.”
“Sticking your dick in a girl isn’t the equivalent to having a relationship.”
Turner was grinning and let out a huff in agreement. I looked up at the mammoth of a man that had moved to stand next to me and wondered what on earth he could be smiling about. In fact, I felt weird being witness to this little sibling argument. Donna, the boy’s mother, had taken that moment to walk into the kitchen and gasped.
“Boys, you better not be talking about what I think you’re talking about. There are ladies present and that’s something your mother just doesn’t want to hear.”
“No worries, Ma, the conversation is over,” Dodger replied.
She turned and glared, pointing a finger at her youngest son, Wrigley. “You, mister, had better be wrapping it up if you are having sex. In fact, just stop it! No more sex until you’re married. The last thing I want to find out is that you got some girl pregnant.”
“Jesus, Mom! I’m not talking to you about this.” Wrigley actually had the sense to appear embarrassed. Turner and Dodger smirked at their little brother’s discomfort. “Anyway, change of subject. Hey, Mom, what do you call a guy with no arms or legs in a pile of leaves?”
There was a collective groan in the room. “Wrig, not now,” Turner scolded
He ignored them. “Russell.” He slapped his leg, laughing at his own joke. I let a giggle slip out. In my defense, it was pretty funny. Turner turned to eye me and tilted his head to the side. I shrugged. “Oh man, Belle, did you just laugh? Holy shit, finally someone who appreciates my jokes.” Wrigley came over to me and slung his arm around my shoulder.
My face turned redder than my hair and I looked away from everyone. “I hadn’t heard that one before. It was kind of funny.”
He ruffled my hair like I was a child. What was it about these Brooks boys doing that? “You’re cute.”
Turner smacked Wrigley’s arm off of me and glowered. “First of all, her name is Annabelle, not Belle and second, she was just being polite. Keep your hands to yourself, shithead.”
“Actually,” I spoke to Turner. “Belle is fine, the joke was funny, and thank you for the compliment.” I turned to Wrigley and gave a soft smile.
“Ha! In your face, asshole.”
“Boys,” Donna chastised. Changing the subject, she came over to me and looked at my ankle. “How are you feeling, sweetie? Anything I can get you?”
With all of the commotion going on, I’d completely forgotten about my injury. “No, thank you though. Actually, I think I’m going to get going. It’s been a long day and I’m feeling pretty tired.”
“Okay, honey. Shall I get one of my boys to drive you home? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
“No, I appreciate it, but I think I can make on my own—”
“I’ll drive her.” Turner interrupted me.
I twisted to face him, my red hair whipping around. “It’s fine, I said I’ll drive myself.”
His face became hard as stone, and those dominant waves silently worked their way over to me. “I will drive you home in your car, and Dodger can follow behind us to bring me back here.”
I swallowed down the feeling to comply. What on earth was up with this guy? A girl says no, she means it. At least when I said no, I did. “No, thank you.” My voice was strong and firm. There was no room for budging and I didn’t like his sudden change of demeanor.
Donna piped up, “She’s got it, Turner, leave the poor girl be.” She leaned in and hugged me. It was the kindest gesture I’d been given in a long time and a lump formed in my throat. “It was so wonderful meeting you. Please, don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome here anytime. Oh, and congratulations on graduating.” Her smile was so sincere and comforting. I wanted to pull her back into a tight embrace just to feel that motherly warmth, and then run back into my cocoon of silence. Instead, I reciprocated her smile and thanked her for her hospitality.
Scooting off the counter, I saw out of the corner of my eye Turner’s hands twitch to assist me. He probably would have had his mom not been there to slap him away if he tried. I grabbed my purse that I set on the counter opposite me, and started to hobble my way to the door. A slow burn started up my leg, but I refused to ask for help. I looked over my shoulder and plastered on a polite smile. “It was very nice meeting you all. Thank you again for having me. I’m sorry I was such a bother here at the end.”
Just as I reached for the knob, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. “Seriously, Annabelle, I can drive you home. I don’t mind.”
I flipped around to face him. “Truly, I appreciate it, but I’d rather drive myself.”
“Okay, this is going to seem like it’s coming from left field, but I have to ask.” He seemed to steel himself for whatever the question would be. He took a deep breath, then spoke, “Can I take you out sometime?”
I jerked my head back. Left field was right. How had he gone from being a bossy, dominant male to softening his tone and asking me on a date? I shook my head and met his bright blue eyes that appeared confident and hopeful. “Thank you, but I don’t date.”
His certainty faltered and his brows came together. “What do you mean you don’t date?”
I sighed. How do I explain this? “I just don’t date. It doesn’t interest me.” And it really doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely attracted to Turner Brooks, but I see him as risk. In my head, it all played out. I would go out on a date with him. One date would turn into two, two would turn into four and next thing you know there’d be feelings. Once there’s feelings, there’s no turning away from them. Then commitments would happen, and what if something happened? What if he left me because he no longer cared about me, but I was still very much in love with him? What if I got a phone call or knock on the door with news that something terrible had happened to him. I’d never survive it. So I stopped it before it started.
Turner’s eyebrows drew together even deeper as if he was trying to solve some mysterious puzzle that didn’t make sense to him. There was nothing to solve. I readied myself for the onslaught of questions, to which I had an answer for all of them. I thought he would do what all of the men that got brave enough to ask me out would do.
Beg.
Instead, he simply nodded, smoothed his perfect features, and opened the door for me. “Okay. Well, it was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around the hospital. Good luck on the job search.”
What? No, “Do you even like guys? If you would just give me a chance. Are you a prude? Are you saving yourself for marriage?” Nothing. He asked me none of the questions I’d anticipated being fired in my direction. Instead, it was me that stumbled. Well, this was a first. I guess Turner Brooks asks once and that’s the only chance you got. I couldn’t tell if it was a nice feeling or a bad one that he brushed off my refusal so easily, but, regardless, I plucked a smile on my face and nodded at him. Straightening my shoulders, I moved past him and made my way to my car. I felt his eyes on me the whole way. When I climbed inside, I turned to look back at the house. The front door was closed and he was nowhere in sight. How odd. I could have sworn he would still be standing there. Shaking off my odd day, I headed home, wanting nothing more than to elevate my ankle while I soaked in a hot bubble bath and relaxed. I was ready for today to be over.
7 months later . . .
“PUSH, CECILE.” I coached my patient.
Grunt
“ . . . three, four, five, six . . . ”
Grunt
The mother in labor was panting hard as she tilted forward grasping herself behind her knees.
“Eight, nine, ten. Good job, you can relax and wait for the next contraction,” I said as I brushed back the hair that was sticking to her damp forehead.
“I can’t do this,” Cecile pleaded to her husband, who had a very apologetic look on his face. I’m sure it was hard for him to see his wife in so much pain, as it was for every husband that came
in and out of my delivery rooms.
“Yes, you can, sweetie. You’re doing so well,” he cooed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No, I can’t. I’m so tired, and it hurts so bad. Please, no more. Just get him out.”
My patient had been in labor for over twenty-four hours. The doctors hadn’t been sure if she was going to dilate to the full ten centimeters she needed to in order to have a vaginal birth. The obstetrician hadn’t decided whether he was going to let her progress the way that she had been, or if we were going to wheel her in to the operating room. Fortunately for Cecile, she dilated the last three centimeters in a short period of time. She had been pushing for an hour and I could see the exhaustion written all over her face. There were some moms that came in here and could continue to push for two, even three hours. Then there were others, like Cecile, where every ounce of energy was depleted and she literally had nothing left to give.
“Alright, Cecile, the next contraction is coming and the baby is right here,” Doctor Linds said. “If you give me one more big push, this will all be over. Come on, give me all you’ve got.”
She curled up into a C-position and I held onto one of her legs, while her husband held her other. She bore down and pushed until she was red in the face. I started my counting just like I did with every contraction. More sweat beaded on her forehead and I could tell she was determined to make this her last push. I looked down and saw the crown of the baby’s head making its entrance.
“There you go, Cecile, the baby is coming out, keep going. Push hard!” I said excitedly.
Within a few short seconds, a bloody, wet, little baby slipped out and the doctor worked on clearing the baby’s lungs and nose. The parents visibly relaxed as they looked on with teary faces. A few short seconds later, little cries sounded in the nearly quiet room. I handed Dr. Linds a couple of cloths to help wipe the baby off as he lay the newborn on the mom’s stomach. This was always my favorite moment. The moment when the family of two becomes a family of three. The moment when they are inspecting every little inch of their new little bundle and they are feeling euphoric. These moments, they will never get old. After doing my normal duties of weighing, and cleaning off the baby, I stepped out of the room to give the new family some time to bond. We’d move them to a regular room once the mom’s bleeding slowed down and all vitals are stable.
Walking to the nurse’s station, I sat down and pulled out a couple of charts. I had to get some paperwork done before I was able to go home for the night. I was exhausted and thinking about my cushiony pillow and bed drew a long yawn from my mouth. My coworkers milled about the halls, checking on patients, and the nursery. When I started my job here, I don’t think I anticipated loving the L&D floor, but I did. There was so much reward and satisfaction that came with helping to bring new life into this world. Although, my first few weeks here were rocky. I found that nurses, while friendly and extremely caring with their patients, could be a little cliquish amongst their coworkers. Coming onto a shift where they’d not had a new person in months was a challenge. It took some time, but I felt more comfortable with the nurses I worked with on a regular basis. I started charting my latest delivery and all of the medications that were administered. While I was working, I overheard two other nurses talking and my ears perked up when I heard the name “Dr. Brooks.”
“So where’s he taking you?” A girl I didn’t know asked.
“We are going out to a comedy club downtown on Friday, and after that . . . I guess we’ll see,” Robin laughed.
“Uh huh, we’ll see alright. Did you hear what he did with Christy down in X-ray last week?” The other nurse, whose name I didn’t know, teased.
“No, what?”
“Apparently, the good doctor has a thing for supply closets. She said he didn’t even give her a chance to take her scrubs off.”
I glanced up just in time to see Robin rolling her eyes. “Whatever. He won’t even remember X-ray Girl’s name when I’m done with him. In fact, maybe Dr. Brooks will finally see the light and settle down.”
The hope in her voice that she even had a snowball’s chance in hell made me snort out loud. Both women turned to me and I looked back down at my papers.
“Did you say something, Annabelle?” Robin asked.
I brought my eyes back up and tried to appear innocent. “No, sorry. I thought I had to sneeze.”
They both gave me an quizzical look and brushed off my interruption. “Anyway, I’m going to Pink Lace after my shift to get some things that I think he might find, appealing,” she purred.
“Yeah, what do you have in mind?” The other girl asked inquisitively.
I peered back up through my lashes to watch the conversation. I wasn’t normally an eavesdropper, but I was curious. Ever since my first run-in with Turner, I’d started paying more attention to the rumor mill. As it turns out, Dr. Brooks seemed to be a lady’s man, which I pretty much already assumed. But apparently he’d made his way through the hospital staff and left a trail of swooning women. In fact, I’m convinced that besides Robin, I’m the only one he hasn’t shoved into a supply closet. Actually, I take that back. I would hope that he hasn’t screwed around with Gladys, the janitor, who is eighty years old, but you just never know with people.
“I was thinking something red and silky and I’ll pull my hair up off my neck. He won’t be able to resist,” Robin proclaimed with complete confidence.
Red silk? Sounded more like a cheap hooker color if you asked me. Turning back to my work, I blocked out the rest of their conversation. Hearing all of that brought me back to the day that he asked me out on a date. I had gone home wondering if I should have taken a chance and said yes. The attraction had definitely been there. The draw or lure, if you will, tried to suck me in to say ‘yes, but hearing all of this gossip was my affirmation that sticking to my guns was the better choice. We would have had our date, and I’m sure it would have been wonderful. But I had no doubt Turner Brooks would have moved on to the next unsuspecting lady the very next day. Which was fine. Clearly that was his MO. I’d never knock a man for his game. However, since that day, I have done everything I could to avoid bumping into him around the hospital grounds. I didn’t do it because I worried he wanted to ask me back out. No, I had a strong feeling he wasn’t the type to ask a second time. It was more because he made me feel uneasy. There had been something I saw in his face that day, a mischievous undertone. He may be a healer, but there was a flash in his eyes that told me he liked to teeter on the edge of danger. I, Annabelle Shaffer, didn’t do danger. Nope, I colored within the lines. That’s where safety lies. I knew if I ever slipped outside of those lines, I welcomed the possibility of hurt. Because of that, I made sure I stayed inside of my protective bubble is where I controlled my future. I liked it there.
High pitched female laughing brought me out of my thoughts and I glanced up at the two women still droning on about Robin’s life changing date. Blah . . . blah . . . blah. Whatever. I didn’t care to listen to it any longer so I finished up charting Cecile’s meds and I went to the L&D locker room to gather my things. When I slipped my purse onto my shoulder, I felt the vibration of my phone. Pulling it out, I looked at the screen. It was a text from Keegan.
Keegan: Dress shopping 2morrow @ noon.
Me: K. Should we meet at your place?
Keegan: Nah. I’ll swing by n grab u.
Me: Sounds good! See you then.
Keegan and I had been hired on the same day to work in Labor and Delivery. I may have originally wanted Sports Med, but she had always wanted L&D. We worked side by side some of the time, but every once in a while our shifts crossed. Since working together, I’d become even closer to Keegan, which kind of was a rarity in and of itself. I didn’t let many in. But she had this way about her. One couldn’t help but trust her and love her. When she got engaged to Camden, Keegan didn’t waste any time picking out her bridesmaids. I was honored that she even felt close enough to ask me. Dropping my phone back in my pu
rse, I silently cursed dress shopping. Hopefully the other two girls would agree on what we would wear and we could focus on Keegan and her wedding dress. I also sent a silent prayer up to the dress gods that she didn’t choose some Godawful color like pastel blue or purple. I didn’t want to look like a cupcake.
I went out to the parking garage and climbed in my car. The drive home was a relatively short one, which tonight I was very appreciative of. Pulling into my drive ten minutes later, I let myself in the front door and was immediately greeted by my cat, Chaz. His loud purr set me at ease and all the tension from the day slowly melted away with his light thrumming.
“Hey, big guy, what have you been doing all day?” I bent down to pet his black and grey fur. He arched up against my palm and meowed at me. “Oh yeah? Sounds like you’ve been a busy boy.” I stood back up and dropped my bag on the floor. “Are you hungry?” I asked my overweight companion, and he let out a long and low bellow. He weaved in and out of my legs as I tried to make my way to the kitchen. It was a familiar dance we did every evening. He would dart around my feet, and I would try not to step on him. I was convinced that Chaz understood every word I spoke to him. He’d been my cat since before my parent’s death seven years ago and he was the only one that had been here for me when I was at my worst. I loved him and he loved me. At least I think he loved me. Unless it was more because I traded food in exchange for a listening ear. Regardless, he gave me his attention and I appreciated it.
After feeding Chaz, I went to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of merlot that I had opened the night before. Filling a glass half full, I walked down to my room, changed into black yoga pants, and a pink ribbed tank top and plopped on my bed, ready to call it a night. My kindle beside me had also become a friendly companion. I was an avid reader. I threw myself into sexy romance novels or dark paranormal ones every night before passing out. Sipping from my wine glass, I sunk down into my plethora of white down pillows and immersed myself into someone else’s life. A world that wasn’t my own and allowed me some comfort and solace. A place where I could let myself live on the edge and take risks. With each word that my eyes scanned, they grew heavier and heavier. My twelve hour shift had taken its toll, and the wine was quickly seeping into my blood. I hadn’t even finished a chapter before I was in a deep, dreamless sleep.