Bachelors In Love

by Jestine Spooner

  CHAPTER ONE

  Shouts sounded from down the hallway as Tia adjusted her scrubs. The panic and urgency in the voices of people all around her was something she’d grown used to as a trauma surgeon. But tonight, for the first time in years, her heart raced along with the tension surrounding her. She took a deep breath and tried to concentrate on what the nurse had just informed her of.

  Blunt force trauma from being hit by a car. The patient was riding a bike. Wearing a helmet—thank god. But he’d been pinned under the car and dragged for thirty feet. He was scraped and bleeding profusely and there was no telling what internal damage there was. She was prepared to have to save internal organs, clean and suture wounds, remove bone shards, administer CPR if it came to it.

  These were all things she did often, and with ice water in her veins. She was calm and collected in the operating room. Always had been. But tonight, she felt a slight tremor in her chest.

  Never in her life did Tia think that the first time she ever touched Elijah Bird would be on her operating table.

  “We’re ready for you, Dr. Camellia,” Rita, the OR nurse, called into the room where Tia was just finished scrubbing in.

  Tia turned, bracing herself for the jolt of seeing Elijah through the observation window. Unconscious and white as a corpse. He’d lost a hell of a lot of blood in the accident. But it was Tia’s job to make sure that was all he lost.

  With a determined grit to her teeth, Tia pushed away all personal thoughts about the man on her operating table. As a trauma surgeon, she’d dealt with this level of injury at least twice a week for years. She could do this.

  She stepped into the operating room, and the rest of the world faded away, just like it always did. Tia, her team of nurses, and the patient were the only people who existed. And she was the leader of that world. All of the people in this room, Elijah especially, needed her to know what to do, when to do it, and how to do it.

  She was very good at her job. And tonight was going to be no exception.

  Clinically, she listened to the report from the head nurse, assessed the damage to his body, and planned her attack.

  Sixteen years ago, all Tia had wanted was to occupy just a small corner of Elijah’s life. Tonight, she held his life in her very hands.

  Three hours later, exhausted but determined, Tia stepped out into the waiting room. She immediately recognized Elijah’s father. He had Elijah’s smile lines and the same hairline, although his was mostly silver at this point.

  “Mr. Bird,” Tia said, crossing the waiting room quickly.

  “Ryan,” he corrected automatically, his handsome face sheet white as he rose.

  Tia knew from experience that there was no room for pleasantries in conversations like this. Even if it felt cold, even if her instincts shouted at her to comfort people in need of it, she knew that every suspenseful second was its own separate hell.

  “Elijah came through the surgery very well.”

  Ryan’s hands trembled, ever so slightly, as he jammed them into his pockets. “Ok.”

  “He’s not out of the woods. He lost a lot of blood. And the level of trauma he sustained was considerable. I had to remove his spleen, which had been ruptured beyond repair. There was glass and a great deal of dirt and debris in the wound on his side. It required 63 stitches. And, as I’m not a cosmetic surgeon, it’s going to scar.”

  Ryan nodded, his dark eyes burning into hers.

  “He has broken ribs on both sides,” Tia continued. “What could be a sprained wrist, and a considerable amount of bruising. The good news is that there was no trauma to his head. His helmet did its job.”

  “Good boy,” Ryan mumbled to himself. Obviously relieved his son had been wearing a helmet. He nodded, tracing his trembling hand roughly over his eyes and nose. “But the nurse said that he was unconscious when the ambulance brought him in.”

  Tia nodded. “I think it’s safe to assume that was from the loss of blood. And possibly from the shock. I’m stitching up the driver of the car that hit him in a moment and she said that Elijah spoke with her in the moments before the ambulance arrived. It wasn’t until after EMS got there that he passed out.”

  “She?” Ryan asked, his eyes tearing up. “The driver was a woman?”

  “Yes,” Tia said, relaying what she knew of the accident. “An elderly woman. It sounds like she ran the red light and hit his bike.”

  Not every family member that she spoke with in this waiting room wanted comfort or touch from her. Most simply wanted the facts, their questions answered, and then they wanted her to get the hell away. But as Ryan swayed in front of her, Tia went on instinct and laid her hand on his elbow. She took the seat next to the one he’d been occupying and drew him down to sit next to her.

  “What—what happens next?” he asked, his voice hoarse with worry for his son.

  “He’s headed to recovery right now. We wait for the anesthesia to wear off. And then we wait for him to wake up. Once we get him settled there, you’ll be able to come back and see him.”

  One of Ryan’s hands covered his mouth as he nodded, staring at something only he could see in front of him.

  Tia, unable to help herself, because there had been a time when she’d loved Elijah, reached out and pulled Ryan in for one tight hug. The older man’s arms gripped her surprisingly firmly, he was a man used to giving good hugs.

  “He’s a fighter, Ryan. Never once did his vitals dip during surgery. Never once did he make me worry about him in that operating room. He knew he was coming out the other side.”

  Ryan’s eyes searched hers for a second, overwhelmed and grateful.

  “Ryan!” a familiar voice called out from across the waiting room.

  Tia turned to see Jay Brady racing from the elevators. She rose. “I’ll leave you to your family. As soon as we know more, I’ll make sure someone lets you know.”

  She nodded her head at Jay as he raced past, but he only had eyes for Ryan. He instantly fell to the older man’s side, grabbing for his hand. “I came as fast as I could and Mom is right behind me. What happened? What do we know?”

  Tia turned and slid silently back toward the OR. Her night was far from over.

  ***

  His mother had just died. That explained the roaring, searing, excruciating pain in his stomach and chest. No. Eli tried to shake his head but found he couldn’t, he felt like he was taped down to his bed. His mother hadn’t just died. She’d died when he was fourteen.

  Then what was this pain?

  It tore up from his abdomen, hot and hungry and trying to pull him under. This pain wanted to drown him. End him.

  Fuck that.

  Eli ripped his eyes open and the effort nearly exhausted him. Unable to focus completely, he took in the blinking machine next to him. His eyes scanned the dark room. It smelled of antiseptic. A hospital room. He took in two blurry shapes he’d recognize anywhere. A dark-haired shape slumped over in a chair and a blonde-haired shape stretched out on the floor. Marcus and Jay were here. Which meant. Yup. And there was his father at the other end of his bed, one hand over Eli’s foot.

  The door of the hospital room opened and Eli had just enough time to see Kat Brady, Jay’s mom, come through the door with a tray of food and drinks. She gasped when she saw his eyes were open, and he wanted to say something to Kat. Wanted to greet her and ask for a kiss from his second mother. But he found his eyes falling closed, found he couldn’t fight against the exhaustion for another second.

  When he woke again, it was light in the room and Eli was alone. He was grateful when his eyes focused. And much less grateful for the blurry nausea that he recognized as the signs of heavy pain killers. God, he hated that shit. He’d had to take it when he’d blown out his knee and he couldn’t wait to get off the opioids. But the memory of the blinding pain in his stomach and chest had him willing to put up with the dizziness and cloudiness of the pain meds for a little while.

  Something moved in the corner of his vision and Eli realize
d he wasn’t actually alone. There was a dark-haired woman in scrubs and a white doctor’s coat. She was leafing through a clipboard. Sighing, she turned and slipped the clipboard back in a pocket on the wall next to his bed. Must be his chart.

  She froze when she saw that Eli’s eyes were open. He couldn’t quite focus on her face, but even in the fluorescent hospital lights, he could see that she had the glossiest dark hair he’d ever seen. It shined like a shampoo commercial.

  “Elijah,” she said, and something skipped in Eli’s mind. Her voice was trying to trip some memory out of him. Did he know her? “Elijah, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” he tried to say, but found his mouth filled with sandpaper, dry pain tore up his throat.

  Immediately, the woman reached behind her and fiddled around with a sink. She turned back with a cup and a straw and gently guided it to Eli’s mouth. It was all he could do to gulp a sip or two of water, and it was like heaven against his parched mouth. Cool and refreshing and a balm to his aching throat.

  “What happened,” he tried and this time the words came out actually resembling words, if not gravelly and husky, like he’d been up all night smoking cigarettes.

  “You were in an accident, Elij—Mr. Bird. You’re in a recovery room at Greenview hospital. Your friends are down in the cafeteria and your father is—”

  “Right here,” Ryan said as he stepped out of the small adjoining bathroom in Eli’s room. He rushed over to Eli’s side.

  “Eli? Oh god. Eli.”

  The tears running down his father’s face hurt almost as much as the knife stabbing through his ribs right now. His face pulled back in a grimace of pain.

  “Mr. Bird, are you in pain?” the woman asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. After you pass a brief neurological exam, which I’m certain you will, we can have the nurse up your pain medication. Just for a day or two while you rest.”

  “Good. Good,” Ryan said. And then, noticing the expression on his stubborn son’s face. “Don’t argue with the doctor.”

  A small smile lit the woman’s face and Eli fought to bring her into focus, all he could see was the shine off her gorgeous hair. “He’s allowed to argue with his doctor. But for now, he’d better get some rest.”

  A hand brushed against his forehead and as his eyes fell closed, Eli wasn’t sure if it was his father’s hand or the woman’s.

  ***

  It was four days later when Eli saw the woman again. He was able to stay awake for hours at a time now and he wasn’t having any trouble with his vision. He was still on the opioids, the smallest dose possible, and his friends and father had taken to visiting during visiting hours. They were no longer holding vigil at his bedside. Which Eli was grateful for, if not a little bored by. He knew he was going to be ok. And now they knew he was going to be ok. So everybody could just get back to their lives and he could concentrate on healing.

  Jesus. Another time in his life when he had to concentrate on healing. First it had been from his mother’s death. Which had taken damn near a decade. And then it had been his knee injury. And then what the knee injury had led to. And now this. Right when he’d thought it was looking good for next season.

  His coach was going to have a fucking heart attack.

  Star quarterback, about to be approved to enter pre-season training for the first time in two years, gets hit by an old lady and goes back to square one. Jesus. He didn’t even want to know what the tabloids and ESPN announcers had to say about all this. Another year on the bench. Another year watching some other, less talented, stooge do the job that Eli was born to do.

  Eli was the prodigal son of Ocean City, Maryland, seeing as he’d grown up there and then returned only to transform their pro football team into the most impressive team on the East Coast. Hell, in the country.

  He’d been the star quarterback of the Stingrays for four years before he’d blown out his knee in a game. It had required two years of recovery time for reasons he didn’t like to think about. And just when he was back to full health, about to re-enter the world of professional football, he gets dragged for thirty feet underneath a 1998 Lincoln Continental.

  He let out a mirthless chuckle, but stopped abruptly when the movement tugged at his ribs.

  “What’s funny?” asked a slightly husky voice at the door.

  Eli looked over and there she was. The shiny-haired doctor. He was grateful that the blurriness in his vision was gone because she was fine as hell. She had a squarish, sculpted face with severe eyebrows and thick black glasses. Her nose was small and pointed at the end. But her eyes and lips lent her face unlimited softness. Her lips were naturally pink and plush, pressed together so sweetly. And those eyes. Huge and lined with thick lashes, they were the color of an overcast day, a shade of gray so light they were almost silver.

  She was of medium height, but Eli couldn’t make out her body type underneath her scrubs and doctor’s coat. He could barely peel his eyes from that shiny braid of dark hair over her shoulder.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Just marveling at the way the universe works. And I was laughing because—”

  “Because you always laugh.”

  He cocked his head to one side, studied her. Her voice rang bells in his head and she’d just said that like she knew him. He was a pretty famous guy, so could be that she was just a fan. But there was definitely something vaguely familiar about her. Eli was fairly certain that they hadn’t slept together. He thought he would remember being close to that kind of interesting beauty. But, he noted with chagrin, there had been some wild nights in his past, all of which couldn’t exactly be accounted for.

  “You say that like you know me,” he said, his natural smile finding its way to his mouth. He was glad that the RN on his floor had talked him into a shower and a toothbrush that morning as the doctor stepped across his hospital room and leaned in to the computer screen, checking his information.

  She turned to him. “We went to high school together.”

  He squinted his eyes at her again. He really did not recognize her face in the least. But the glasses sort of rang a bell. And that voice. Well, he knew he’d heard that voice somewhere before.

  “I’m Natalia Camellia,” she said, holding her hand out for him.

  Eli tried not to wince as he raised his right hand. “Elijah Bird.”

  She shook his hand and studied his face. “Good. That’s a good strong grip, Mr. Bird. I’m happy to see that. Ribs giving you much pain?”

  “Eli, you can call me Eli.” He watched as something flashed across her face. Something soft. And… vulnerable? “I’ve had broken ribs before. I know the pain that comes with the territory.”

  “Alright. I suppose you would, seeing the line of work you’re in.” She dropped her hand.

  He nodded. He’d wondered if she’d known he was a football player. It gave him a small, unexplainable spurt of happiness to think of her watching him play on a football Sunday. “You a fan?”

  She shrugged, her face neutral. “It’s hard not to be in this town.”

  She wasn’t wrong. Stingray fans could be a little… rabid. He grinned at her answer and was delighted when the full wattage of his smile brought a touch of color to her cheeks. Usually, his smile drew answering smiles from anyone he pointed it at. But she remained dutifully serious, tucking her hands in the pocket of her doctor’s coat.

  “So you came back to Ocean City after med school?” Eli asked, curious about her.

  “My family is here, so I jumped at the opportunity.” She cleared her throat. “Well, my break’s almost up and I haven’t gotten dinner yet, so I’m going to go.”

  He furrowed his brow. “You came to see me on your break? You’re not making rounds?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I’m not a recovery doctor. I’m a trauma surgeon.”

  Something tightened in Eli’s stomach. “Oh. So you’re the one who stitched me up, huh?”

  She nodded, ultra solemn. “If you’r
e worrying about scarring around the incision, we could have the plastic surgeon, Dr. Cattell come in for a consultation.”

  “No,” he shook his head immediately. “No, I’m not worried about that. It’s a part of who I am now. I’ll get used to it. And anytime I look at it, I’ll remember the beautiful surgeon who saved my life.”

  The line came out a little cheesier than he’d intended, but he meant it. She furrowed her brow, a little bit of color deepening in her cheeks.

  “Right. Well.” She took a step backwards. It made Eli grin.

  “You’ll come back and see me before I’m discharged?”

  “Sure,” she nodded her head and took another step backwards. She held his eyes, silver into amber, nodded once more, and was gone through the door.

  Eli felt a strange tug from somewhere deep inside him. Now that he knew she’d held his life in her hands, he almost felt as if his life were still connected to her. Like he was supposed to go where she went, or something.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to dispel the feeling.

  ***

  A few days later, Marcus and Jay sat in two chairs on opposite sides of his room tossing a football back and forth.

  “Nah,” Jay said, flipping back his long blond hair and responding to something that Marcus had just said. “She was cute, but not for me.”

  “Story of your life, dude,” Marcus said as he tossed the ball back toward Jay.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you find a fault in every single girl you hook up with. They’re humans, you know. Nobody is ever gonna be your match in every single way.”

  A slightly angry, tense look came over Jay’s face. It was a look that Eli was very familiar with. Jay, usually easy-going, had made that face quite a bit since he’d barely survived a hurricane on a small island just north of the Bahamas. He’d almost lost his life and he rarely ever talked about it. The only way they ever knew he was thinking about it was that tight expression he was wearing at that very second.

  “What do you girls have your panties in a twist about?” Eli asked, propping himself up in the bed.