Resolutely, I nodded. He might be loud and in pain, but I’d seen much worse. His symptoms and surly attitude were nothing compared to what I had helped patients through while volunteering at clinics in the Philippine jungle and inner-city. Nope, this would be a walk in the park.
“I’ll be back shortly.” Regina rose and left the room in quickly.
“You’re new.” His voice was gravelly, thick with tension no doubt as a result of pain. I glanced up.
“Yes.” In keeping my answer short, I tried to avoid upsetting him.
His gray eyes narrowed as he regarded me while he worked his jaw. And I thought he was about to speak, but he groaned instead, twisting on his bed and shuddering.
“They never tell you what it’s like to go without the drug, just tell you how awesome you’ll feel when you take the damn thing.” His words were stuttered as he pulled a blanket tighter against his chest.
“Would you have taken them if you knew?” I asked as I began to arrange the medication that had be tipped over from his earlier fit with the first nurse.
“Hell, yeah. Though I’m seriously regretting it now. Shit. Does it ever stop?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“Yes, it does. But your body needs time.”
“Can’t they give me something to kill the pain? I’m dying here.” He groaned.
“No, you’re not dying. You’re quite alive and your body is learning how to survive without the drugs.” I didn’t want to say more. I was afraid I would cross the line and speak more of my mind rather than medicine.
“What is it?” He had relaxed slightly and was watching me curiously.
“What is what?” I questioned.
“You’re not saying something. What is it?”
I hesitated, debating whether to be painfully honest or to be politically correct.
“Don’t give me this PC shit either, I’m sick of it.” He began to shiver.
I noticed another blanket on a chair and I placed it over the others.
“Thanks,” he said grudgingly.
“You’re welcome.”
“Now what were you thinking?”
“Persistent, aren’t you?” I quirked an eyebrow.
“No, just willing to go to any lengths to get my mind off of all this damn pain.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against a pillow. Dark eyelashes fanned across his undeniably masculine face, accenting the perfect line of his jaw.
I swallowed and glanced away. “Understandable. Tell me…” I sat down on a chair next to his bed and leaned forward slightly. “What is the pain doing? Is it something you’ll ever forget?”
“Hell, no. This is… shit, this is bad. I could be passed out drunk and bumped, but I’d remember this.” He gave a humorless chuckle as another shudder overtook him.
“Good.” I leaned back and waited, hoping I hadn’t pushed too far.
“Good! Good? How dare you—”
“Because you are suffering so greatly, once you’re healed and on the other side of this addiction, you’ll remember. Like a permanent scar, you’ll wear this pain as a badge of honor that you overcame something near impossible. And you won’t look back, will you? The pain alone is enough of a deterrent to remind you to never touch drugs again.” I shrugged and leaned back, watching his bloodshot gaze study me with a grudging respect.
“Damn, I walked into that one.”
“You did. But it’s true. You’ll move past this, but before you do, it will get worse. Know that. But with every beat of your frantic heart as it survives what you’ve done to your body, remember that the pain is a reminder that you are still living. The drugs, the addiction didn’t win. You did.”
His gaze pierced me with curiosity. “Who are you?”
“No one important.” I glanced down, self conscious about my soap box rant. Funny, I usually reserved that for people I actually knew, not drop dead gorgeous drug-addicted strangers with eyes that made me want to run in the opposite direction.
“Here we are.” Regina entered and glanced to me. Probably making sure I wasn’t in tears or trying to run away like the earlier nurse. I gave her a small smile and she nodded, turning her gaze to Mr. Bentley. Immediately her expression was concerned and confused. I followed her gaze. He was watching me, a mix of curiosity and something deeper clouding his expression. I glanced away quickly and stood, making room for Regina.
“That will be all, Miss Holton. Please wait for me in the hall.”
“Of course.” I nodded and left, hoping I hadn’t crossed a line I wasn’t even aware existed.
When Regina met me a few minutes later, she was studying me intently.
“Miss Holton, what exactly did you say to Mr. Bentley?”
My hands started to sweat. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut!
“Just that the pain he was enduring now would benefit him later with a reminder of what a drug addiction can do.”
“I see.” She watched me with an unreadable expression while her lips pursed. After a moment of studying me, she walked into the hall. With a deep breath, I followed.
As the day progressed, I kept waiting for her to question me further or warn me against being so blunt. But she didn’t. I learned the location of the supply closet as well as the dining hall and recreation center. Regina gave me a tour of the grounds and bought me coffee from the in-house Starbucks while introducing me to nurses and doctors we passed along the way. Each person I met was kind, a bit reserved, but more than welcoming. It would be a while before I kept all the faces and names straight, but hopefully not too long. The one person I didn’t met was Dr. Solomon, the one I was to intern under. By mid-afternoon, Regina apologized for his absence but didn’t give me any details, simply stating that I’d meet him tomorrow.
By the time I left, I was slightly overwhelmed and completely thrilled. I started my day shift in the morning, and I was already counting the hours. I had my dream come true, and I wasn’t going to waste it.
Chapter Two
I walked into the main reception area for Willow and Oak and turned left toward the lockers. My heart hammered in my chest. Just as I finished changing, Regina came into the locker room.
“Miss Holton?”
“Yes?” I stood from the bench.
“Rather than the usual intern assignment, you’ve been given the opportunity to work with a specific patient. Per his request. If you’ll follow me I’ll show you where you’ll be working.” She offered me a small smile and left, pausing for me to catch up. I followed her down the same hallway as we visited yesterday.
“Mr. Bentley requested your exclusive care.” She paused and regarded me, as if thinking intently over what she was about to say next. “We try to accommodate our guests, but this is highly irregular. Please understand that you will be moderated closely and there is no room for error. That the management would take such a risk on you, with as new as you are, speaks highly of your credentials. Personally…” She paused her walk and turned toward me, her gaze intense. “I’m not sure why they are allowing an intern to take on such responsibility. Tread lightly. Mr. Bentley is not our easiest patient.” Folding her hands in front of her, she rocked back on her heels, piercing me with a solid gaze that left me nervous.
“I understand.” I swallowed, and my hands began to sweat. So much for easing into the job.
“Good. Why don’t you go in and check his vitals. You’ll still be under Doctor Solomon. He’ll be in shortly to introduce himself. Don’t forget that if you run into trouble, each room is equipped with several alarms you can initiate for assistance should your patient become unmanageable.” She handed me my key card and walked away, her shoes treading noiselessly on the polished floor.
I turned to the door and took a deep breath, mentally reviewing the emergency buttons hidden in easy locations. It was a wise safety precaution, especially since I’d be alone when I assisted patients. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday’s issues. Not sure what to expect, I said a quick prayer for wisdom
and knocked on the heavy wooden door.
“Come in!” Mr. Bentley called, irritation evident in his tone.
Here we go.
“Good morning, Mr. Bentley. How are you feeling today?” I tried to keep my tone relaxed as I entered the suite and walked over to the couch. He was sprawled over the armrest with several heavy blankets. His piercing gray eyes were bloodshot and tearing up. I mentally took notes on his appearance and went to the side of the couch.
“How do I look? That will give you a pretty legit answer on how the hell I feel,” he mumbled, as he rested his head against the leather arm of the couch.
Ignoring him, I murmured, “You’re progressing. You’re one day closer to the end of your detox.” I reached out to take his pulse.
“Don’t—” He jerked his arm away and sat up, glaring at me with an expression full of contempt.
“I’ll need to take your vitals, Mr. Bentley.” I said warily, folding my hands in front of me.
“Warn a guy before you start grabbing body parts—” He snickered and gave me an amused glance. “What, you don’t get it? C’mon! I’m dying here and even I thought it was funny.”
“Oh, I got it,” I said plainly, a completely open expression purposefully on my face.
“What are you, a prude?” He snorted in disgust and leaned back again, closing my eyes.
“No, I just wasn’t impressed.” I reached out again. “I’m going to take your pulse, Mr. Bentley. Please remain still.”
He snorted but let me place my two fingers to his wrist. His heartbeat was erratic but strong. Everything I had anticipated and nothing out of the ordinary for someone in his current condition.
With a nod, I removed my fingers from his wrist and made notes on the iPad the front desk had checked out to me when I arrived. After logging in, I entered his stats and then glanced up.
He was watching me. Even though his gaze was anything but clear, there was an intensity behind it that was unsettling in its awareness. A tingle prickled my flesh, but I stopped it from spreading. I held his gaze, unwavering.
“Yes?” I asked after a moment.
“Nothing.” An insecure expression passed over his features before he glanced down.
“Next I’ll take your blood press—”
“Hello, Greyson. I see you’ve made the move from your bed to the couch. I commend your bravery.”
A man strode in; his gaze was fixed on his iPad. He was easily over six feet tall and broad, far broader than any other doctor I had ever met before. His sandy blonde hair wasn’t overly short, so it had a slight curl that gave him the California surfer look. When he glanced up, the piercing blue of his eyes was startling as was the brightness of his grin as he reached out to pat Greyson’s shoulder.
Greyson winced.
“Hey, Dr. Solomon. You really don’t need to speak so loudly,” he mumbled and glanced away, his expression one of grudging respect.
“The sensitivity to noise will pass soon. Ah, you must be our newest addition to the Willow and Oak.” He turned to me and offered a hand.
Shifting my iPad to the other hand, I reached out. His hand was warm and easily enveloped mine.
“Yes. I’m glad to meet you, Dr. Solomon. I’m Sophia Holton.”
“So that’s your first name,” Greyson drawled, pulling my attention from the warm gaze of Dr. Solomon.
“Yes,” I replied, slightly confused.
“Damn Nurse Regina would only say your name was Miss Holton. Makes me feel like I’m your student or something, not that I’d care. You can teach me any day.” He winked.
I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “If you were curious, all you had to do was ask, Mr. Bentley.”
“And yeah, if you could cut the Mr. Bentleys that’d be great. I’m not sixty,” he grumbled and regarded me with misery. His emotions changed so quickly, but that was common for his particular situation in detox.
“I’m not sure if—” I glanced to Dr. Solomon, trying to determine if I was allowed to let a patient use my first name. Was that against protocol?
Dr. Solomon nodded as if reading my thoughts but his attention turned to Greyson and he watched him curiously as if seeing something that wasn’t fully apparent to me.
“Miss Holton or Sophia is fine, but please mind yourself around the nurses, any of the nurses, Greyson, Mr. Bentley.” A warning tone laced the doctor’s words.
Curious at the warning, I watched for a reaction. He didn’t strike me as the type that dealt with authority well.
“Yesterday was not my fault,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m simply referring to our code of conduct that you signed when you were admitted. That is all. Now…” Dr. Solomon rubbed his hands together and walked around the couch, bending down in front of Greyson and examining him.
“Today I’d like you to walk a bit. Have you been able to keep your food down?” he asked while tapping his iPad.
“Yeah, mostly.” Greyson adjusted himself and closed his eyes once more.
“Your symptoms will subside after time. You are paying severely for what you did to your body. Hopefully that will deter you in the future.” Dr. Solomon rose.
“You sound just like her.” Greyson opened his eyes and glanced at me before closing them again.
“Then you have a wise nurse. You would do well to listen to her.” Dr. Solomon nodded and began to walk out. “Nurse Holton, may I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.” I draped my stethoscope around my neck and walked outside and into the hall.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Holton. I’ve reviewed your file and must say I’m impressed. We don’t get many nurses, let alone interns who have raw condition experience. I think your perspective is exactly what is needed — at the Center, but more importantly, with our patient here.”
“Thank you.” A warm blush heated my cheeks, but I tried to maintain my composure.
Dr. Solomon rubbed his chin with his fingers, his brow furrowed. “I feel the need to warn you about Mr. Bentley. Surely you’ve heard of him, but as a person he can be quite compelling. That the management feels you are up to task in caring for him speaks highly of you, but he’s not one you can ever let your guard down around.”
“Thank you. Nurse Regina said something similar. I won’t let you down. And my guard will remain raised.” I nodded, making a mental note to do an online search on Greyson Bentley when I got home. I was missing something important, it seemed.
“Very good. After you’ve finished taking his blood pressure, see if you can get him to walk around. I’ll check in later.” Dr. Solomon regarded me for a moment, his expression curious yet… attracted. But the expression passed though his gaze so quickly; the moment he turned I convinced myself it was imagined. I watched him walk away, then I took a deep breath before entering the suite once again.
“Mr. Bentley—”
“Greyson! Shit.” He moaned and held his head with his hands, likely because of his earlier shout and the headache it caused.
“Greyson…” I articulated carefully.
“Better,” he mumbled.
“You need to get up and walk.” I strode to the front of the couch and reached out my hand. He glanced at it, derision and disbelief coloring his expression.
I wiggled my fingers.
“Yeah, that’s not incentive. This isn’t kindergarten.” He glared at me.
I wiggled my fingers again, just to spite him.
“Fine.” He reached out and grasped my hand tightly. His grip was strong and I saw the sinew in his forearm flex. Slowly he stood. As he rolled his shoulders the white t-shirt he wore stretched under his muscular frame. Swallowing compulsively, I struggled to maintain my composure as my body responded with warmth. He had seemed so much… smaller when he was curled up on his bed or the couch. Now he towered over me, his frame easily two of mine and solid. I took a step back and tugged my hand free.
“You have nice hands,” Greyson said quietly, his
eyes focusing on mine. At least one of my first impressions was correct. He was indeed dangerous. Though slightly shaky and clearly weak, he was powerful and his gaze captivated me.
“Th-thank you,” I stammered and then mentally scolded myself.
“Ah, so the ice princess isn’t completely frozen solid. Good to know.” He shot me a cocky grin.
That was all it took to clear my focus.
“I may not be frozen solid, but at least I can walk around on my own. Can you take a few steps forward without my help?” I waited for him to move.
“And we’re back to frozen,” he mumbled and began to walk, a patronizing grin on his face.
“Good. Now, drop and give me twenty.” I jerked my chin and crossed my arms. The shock on his face was priceless.
“Wh—”
“Kidding.” I grinned.
“And she can smile too,” Greyson tossed back while taking a few steps toward the large picture window. He paused just in front of it and gazed over the scenery.
“How much longer?” he asked after a moment.
“‘Til?” I queried while I tapped information into my iPad.
“Until it doesn’t hurt so damn much. Until I can walk without my knees shaking.” He glanced back at me with a dark expression.
“That depends.”
“On what, exactly?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“You.”
“Okay, if you’re going to feed me bullshit about it being ‘all in my head’ I might commit a serious crime in your presence.” He turned, facing me fully.
“No, it’s not all in your head.”
“You’re damn straight, it isn’t.”
“But that’s where you’ll either win the battle or lose it. Your mind, that’s your battlefield.” I took a step closer. “You can mentally give up, stop fighting and just accept the pain as your temporary lot in life, feeling sorry for yourself and justifying your actions. Or…” I took a step to the side of him and faced the window. “Or you can see the pain as evidence that you’re winning the battle, that you are no longer a slave to your addiction. It’s a sign that you’ve overcome it.” I turned my gaze to Greyson, watching my words war against what he felt. His easiest course was to feel sorry for himself, exactly what he’d been doing earlier.
Beyond Broken Page 2