As he made his way to an empty table, Dean heard someone call out his name. “Over here,” Kennedy shouted from the other side of the room. Dean walked over and sat at his table. “You have a surgery today?” Kennedy asked.
“No,” Dean answered. “Just wanted to check on a patient.” Actually, I’m trying to avoid thinking about your sister’s rounded ass! He might have been new to Bay City, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud and knew that was no way to make friends. She had someone else, a no- good ass, but someone else just the same. Kennedy didn’t know of Reagan’s boyfriend’s actions, or her pain, and Dean would not be the one to tell him.
They sat and drank coffee and talked about their education. “Do you have a specialty,” Dean asked.
“I’m not a surgeon,” Kennedy shook his head before taking a sip of his hot brew. He sat the cup down and leaned into his elbows. “I’m one of the emergency room doctors, stitch ‘em up or send them to you.”
Dean admired that. Emergency rooms were always jamming, and he knew the doctors worked their tails off without too many breaks. “Hopefully you don’t have to send too many to me. I’m in pediatric cardiac surgery.”
“Yes, I heard,” Kennedy grinned but didn’t say who told her. “Word gets around.”
Dean expected as much, Bay City Medical wasn't any different from the other hospitals he worked at. Staff spent most of their time at work, close friendships bonded, people talked. “It sure does. I hear you're understaffed.”
“We have the staff,” Kennedy explained. “It just takes longer for us to get from one patient to the other, so much information to put in the computers these days.”
“Have you considered hiring a scribe? You'd think with Bay City being one of the largest teaching hospitals in the state, they'd supply you with help.”
Kennedy opened his mouth to answer but his eyes shifted toward the door as a man walked in. The other guy looked at Kennedy and nodded. Dean watched as the man approached the cashier and bought a drink. Kennedy had his back toward the man and couldn’t see how he flirted with the young girl, but Dean couldn’t stop watching. The girl giggled as she pressed change into the man’s hand, and he turned around. Dean’s stare dropped as he stepped closer to the table.
“Hi Matt,” Kennedy spoke and kicked a chair out. Dean knew that name somewhere, but for the life of him couldn’t remember where. Matt sat and placed his drink on the table, his eyes locking with Dean’s. “This is Doctor Everly,” Kennedy introduced them. Dean stretched his hand to shake his, but before they touched, Kennedy continued. “And, this is Matt, Reagan’s boyfriend.” Dean paused, and as if right on cue, the alarm on his wristwatch sounded and he pulled it away before Matt could shake it.
“I should get going,” he said to the others.
As Dean stood and walked away, he could hear Kennedy explain. “He’s the new pediatric cardiac surgeon, and from what I heard, him and Rea work great together.”
What a dick! Dean waited before exiting the cafeteria, thinking about Reagan again. She made excuses for Matt, but he saw him flirt with his own two eyes and there was nothing he could do about it. Dean couldn’t confront him and tell him to knock the shit off, yet he couldn’t tell her he saw him hitting on another either. There was nothing for Dean to do, but keep his mouth shut.
He turned and glanced back at the table; they didn’t seem to find his sudden departure out of the ordinary. If Kennedy was the caring brother he seemed to be, he would knock Matt out if he told him what he saw. But, telling him would ruin his trust with Reagan.
Dean headed toward the elevator and made his way to the pediatric ward. Little Philip wasn’t out of the woods and he’d become Dean’s top priority. He didn’t expect to see Mercy taking the boy’s vital signs when he entered. She looked his way but said nothing. “Looks good,” she said as she gently pinched Philip’s cheek. The kid smiled at her and his eyes grew wide when he noticed Dean standing at the foot of the bed.
Mercy pivoted to leave and said, “Can we talk?” under her breath. Dean could tell she hadn’t been honest with Philip and was eager to see what she had to say. He nodded in agreement but stepped closer to the bed before heading out into the hall. “How are you feeling, champ?” Philip gave him two thumbs up then closed his eyes. His mother brushed the hair out of his face then leaned back in her chair to allow him to sleep. Dean smiled at her, a moment before he didn’t even realize she’d been there, and then excused himself.
He found Mercy down the hall at the nurses’ station when he left Philips room. As Dean approached, she stepped forward. The look on her face told him things weren’t going well with the kid. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“His blood pressure is low,” she whispered, not wanting anyone else to overhear her. Mercy held the chart out and Dean took it into his hands to read. She’d been right and Dean began to worry.
“I’ll go recheck,” he told her, but then paused before moving. “Just a precaution,” he said and touched her shoulder. Mercy didn’t seem affected by it.
When he walked back inside Philip’s room, his mother stiffened in her chair. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
Dean didn’t want to alert her; God only knew how scared she must have been. His fingers lifted to his mouth, signaling for her to stay quiet and not wake Philip. As he wrapped the pediatric blood pressure cuff around Philip’s arm, her face looked puzzled. “The nurse forgot to write this down,” he lied, “and the numbers slipped her mind.”
The woman leaned back and closed her eyes, believing what he said. He would have to tell her what was going on, but Dean wanted to wait until he knew for sure. Dean wrote the pressure in the chart, hung the cuff back on the wall near the bed and left the room again.
“I wasn’t expecting to see an OR nurse here on a Saturday,” he said to Mercy as he approached her again. “Is someone performing an emergency operation?”
She shook her head and continued writing in a patient’s chart. “No, they needed someone to cover the floor, and I picked it up for overtime.” She turned her chair to face him and a grin spread across her face. “Did you and Reagan have a good time last night?”
Don’t tell her anything. Dean suspected Mercy wanted to hear something exciting, but he had nothing for her. He kept his eyes on Philip’s chart as he spoke, “About as much as everyone else,” then paused before finishing, “except maybe you.”
Mercy put her head on the desk and sighed. “My head is killing me,” she complained. Dean couldn’t help but laugh at her. Serves her right, but who was he to judge? “I only had three drinks,” she said as if reading his mind.
Dean laughed and placed the chart back on the rack. “Don’t hold your liquor well, do you?”
“I didn’t eat anything,” she defended herself.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I don’t drink much myself, two would have done me in.” He grinned and turned his back, looking for another chart to go through.
Mercy swung the chair around and watched his every move. “I know Reagan is having problems at home,” she started. “What?”
“You’re asking me?” Dean questioned her in return. “How would I know?” He played dumb, careful to keep Reagan’s secret. “If anyone would know, I’d expect it to be you.”
That caused Mercy to smile and back her chair away. Dean got the impression that Mercy needed to be Reagan’s right-hand man, woman, he corrected himself. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him like she had a big secret. “I don’t like him much,” she said.
“Who? Matt?” Something told Dean it was Mercy’s way of telling him to go after Reagan, like she approved of his thoughts. I want to, Lord knows I want to taste her lips and feel her heartbeat, but I won’t overstep my boundaries. Maybe in time she’d go to him for comfort, but if he jumped too fast, he would scare her away. “I don’t know him,” he told Mercy, who fidgeted in her chair waiting for him to slip up.
Dean couldn’t discuss Reagan anymore. The
reason he worked on a Saturday morning was to escape his thoughts of her. Mercy’s eyes rolled when he changed the subject and asked her to check in on Philip at least once an hour. He could feel her stare follow him as he stepped into the elevator.
Sorry Mercy, I’m not in Bay City to pursue Reagan Fowler.
Chapter 8
REAGAN SPENT THE FIRST few hours of Monday slamming things around and snapping at anyone who said over two words to her. The weekend didn’t go anywhere near as planned and she couldn’t get a straight answer from Matt. He didn’t come home for the dinner she told him she would make. Reagan called, no answer. She called again, it went straight to voicemail, and she blew his phone up with text messages that he didn’t return.
When he arrived home, he said he had a family emergency and couldn’t answer his phone. Reagan didn’t think to call his family to see if they saw him, so she couldn’t argue. She began to trust him less than she did earlier that week. The dinner turned cold, and she threw it out. Matt opened the refrigerator when he got home, expecting to find leftovers but everything was already in the trash and there was no way she would cook again.
Sunday wasn’t much better either. Reagan kept to herself as often as possible, he laid on the couch flipping the television channels for hours. So much for hoping we were alright!
She welcomed her workload on Monday morning, more than usual. It gave her something to think about other than her troubles, but her attitude still sent a clear message for anyone near to back off.
“Hey,” Dean said to Reagan as she leaned into the elevator wall. “Are you okay?”
She whipped her head in his direction and narrowed her eyes. “You know how many fucking people asked me that today?” Dean lowered his head and backed away. “Yeah, I’m just peachy.” Reagan remained still, staring at the door.
The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out into the hallway. Dean followed. He reached for her hand and pulled her into a vacant room. “Don’t lie to me,” he ordered. “You know that I know, and you know that you can talk to me.”
Reagan pulled away from him and turned around. Tears stung her eyes, and she feared him seeing. She could have run out the door, but knew he meant well. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes; tears leaked and ran down her nose. “It’s been a bad weekend and I no longer have any trust for him.” Her body shook as he put his hands on her back. He removed his hand and walked toward the other side of the room. Reagan felt a void she couldn’t explain.
“He’s toxic, Reagan,” Dean said. Reagan knew where he was going, and she didn’t want to hear it. She held her hand up in front of her, but the good doctor didn’t listen. “I wouldn’t tell you to do something I wouldn’t. You can’t keep living with his lies.”
All the anger that Reagan bottled up came raging out. She placed her hands on her hips and stepped toward his face. What do you know? “You know what, Dean? You don’t know anything; you think you do but you don’t so why don’t you back the hell up and stay out of my business.”
“Reagan,” Dean pleaded for her to listen to reason. “I know-”
Reagan stormed out of the room and walked right into Stillman. “Reagan, we need to talk,” he told her. Garrett Stillman pulled her by the elbow and led her down the hall, away from Dean’s earshot. She crossed her arms, and shifted her feet, waiting for his lecture. “I think you need a break.”
Everybody had boundaries, there’s just so much one person can do before they come to their senses. Reagan knew screaming at an attending doctor would get her into boiling water, or any doctor, including Dean. “I’m sorry,” she said as she lowered her gaze to the floor. “I’ll go apologize,” she added, thinking Stillman referred to Dean.
He shook his head and held her arm to keep her still. “You’re cut from the next surgery. I’ll have Mercy fill in.”
“No, I got this,” Reagan tried to object, but he made his mind up.
“Either you take a couple hours and regain your cool, or I send you home for the day, maybe two.” Home was the last place she wanted to be. Her eyes swelled again, and she feared tears falling in front of him. Garrett and Reagan were friends outside of Bay City Medical, but she still didn’t want him to see her weakness. He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close to him. “We all see it. I can’t say what is wrong, but we all know something is up with you. You know we’re all here for you, call if you need someone to talk to.”
The tears she tried to hide rolled down her cheeks. He was right, any of her friends would be there for her if they knew. Only one did. Dean tried to help, but she pushed him away. Reagan didn’t know what to say to Garrett so nodded her head as it fell onto his chest. “I’ll be myself by the next scheduled surgery, I promise.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Thank you,” Reagan mumbled then turned around.
Reagan stepped inside the elevator. When it descended, she pulled a little piece of paper out of her pocket. She found it in the laundry room. Matt always took his work uniform off in there then tossed them into the washer, waiting for Reagan to do the next load. When he did that over the weekend, she didn’t second guess it. Reagan spotted the paper on the floor and held onto it. The elevator stopped and snapped Reagan from her thoughts.
555-555-0769 Whose number is this?
The doors opened to the main lobby, and she shoved the paper back inside her pocket and headed toward the cafeteria. She realized she hadn’t been eating much. She picked out a sandwich and a drink and walked up to the cashier. The girl bit her lower lip and avoided looking Reagan in the eyes. Reagan thought nothing of it until the girl's hands started to shake when she paid. “You alright?” she asked in concern.
“My sugar might be low,” the cashier said. “I’m not feeling well, but I’ll be fine.” She handed over the change and she smiled at Reagan. Glad I’m not the only one having an off day.
Reagan sat and ate, then stared out into space for what seemed like an eternity. Rain fell outside and she felt every drop hit the ground. Footsteps approached the table, but Reagan’s focus remained out the window.
“Mind if I sit here?” Dean asked. He stood back, like he was ready to run if she decided to bite his head off again.
She turned and faced him; tears streamed down her face. “Please,” she answered, not knowing what else to say. He sat down and handed her a napkin. After wiping her eyes, and blowing her nose, Reagan pulled a travel-sized container of hand sanitizer out of her pocket and applied it to her skin. “Wouldn’t want you to go to another table because of my dirty hands,” she teased. It was the first time she smiled in days and it felt good. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
Dean reached for her hand and held it inside both of his like a sandwich. They felt warm and inviting and sudden butterflies fluttered in her stomach from his simple and friendly touch. He shook his head, “Don’t,” he said, “I’m the one who should apologize.”
Reagan pulled the paper out from her pocket and opened it for him to see. “I found this,” she explained.
“Whose number is it?” Dean asked, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket.
Reagan panicked, thinking he would dial the number. “What are you doing?” She was sure it belonged to the girl she found him with and didn’t want to call her.
Dean took the paper from her hands and assured her he wouldn’t call it. “Let’s just see who it could be.” He entered the number into his contacts, went onto his social media, and searched his contacts for friends.
Why didn’t I think of that?
Dean ran his fingers through his hair as the profile associated with the phone number appeared on his phone. “I hoped I was wrong,” he said as he placed the phone in front of Reagan’s face. “Does she look familiar?”
Reagan looked up to the cashier with the shaky hands. Low sugar my ass! She almost darted across the room to knock the girl’s lights out. Dean noticed her rising off the chair and held her shoulder to keep her down. “Her too? And, what do you mean? You knew about th
is?”
Dean put the phone down and leaned back into his chair. His eyes scanned the room and he repositioned himself in his seat. “I was here on Saturday, had a cup of coffee with your brother. Matt came in and I noticed him flirting with the girl, saw her place something in his hand and thought it looked strange.” Reagan looked like a deer in headlights as he explained. “I didn’t know who he was, but when Kennedy saw him, he waved him over and introduced us. Reagan,” he paused. “I didn’t want to say anything but tried today when I saw how upset you were.”
She didn’t cry, Reagan became too angry to cry. Not at Dean, but at Matt and all the little hussies he cheated with. How many of them were there? She took Dean’s phone, which was still on social media and looked at the girl’s profile. Her friends list was private, but something told her Matt was friends with her. The short bio had little hearts and a quirky little expression about being single on it. The cashier’s profile picture displayed her hefty cleavage. It received many likes and comments. Reagan couldn’t help but look, Matt had commented with a row of hearts and a message that said she looked good. Bastard.
She didn’t need to see anymore. She knew what she needed to do.
Dean asked if she wanted him to keep any of that information, but she told him to delete it all. He was a good man and she didn’t want to drag him into her domestic disputes. He logged off the social media app and deleted the phone number from his contacts.
Reagan’s eyes burned as she looked across the cafeteria and watched the cashier flirting with an intern. Dean’s hand touched her back to comfort her, but Reagan wasn’t having it. She brushed his hands away and jumped up. As she raced out of the cafeteria, Reagan ran into the cashier, and almost knocked her over. The intern backed away as Dean ran to catch up with Reagan.
Romance Me: A Collection Of Standalone & First In Series Books Page 26