by Jenn Marlow
We were brought back to a room right away, which was nice. But it almost seemed like a false alarm when it took the doctor over an hour to join us. I sat in the guest seat, while Derek sat on the bed, and we hardly spoke. We only looked at one another for an uncomfortably long amount of time.
I didn’t want to get wrapped up in conversation only to be interrupted when the doctor showed, and something told me he thought the same…
I was glad we didn’t because just as I was about to begin small talk a slight knock at the door sounded, and the door opened. And my God, when the man in the white coat entered the room, my mouth fell open in shock.
He was tall—around six and a half feet—and gorgeous. He had beautiful chestnut hair and facial scruff to match. He looked rugged, masculine, and delicious as all get out.
“Hey, guys!” the doctor said as he closed the door behind him. His smile was intoxicating—so intoxicating that I nearly fell off my seat.
“Zoe,” Derek said as the incredibly good-looking doctor entered the room completely and made his way towards us. “This is my stepbrother.”
My brows contorted into pure confusion, as I looked at the man. “Your doctor is your stepbrother?” I asked, still confused.
He smiled at me extending his hand to shake my own. “I’m Dr. Freeman; and my patient here happens to be my stepbrother, yes.”
“But isn’t that a conflict of interest?” I asked, taking his hand and looking from Derek to Dr. Freeman and back again.
“He was my doctor before he was my stepbrother, so it just remained that way when his mom married my dad,” Derek spoke, his voice soft and weak.
“But legally or ethically speaking?” I asked, my attention shooting from one man to the other.
“Legally, we aren’t related, so there’s not a lot that can be done. In the eyes of the law, as well as ethics, we are no different if you became friends with your doctor,” Derek said in a manner that seemed a little more rehearsed than I was comfortable with.
I looked at him and dread immediately filled my body. He looked so pale, so weak. And it was then that I wondered if I really should have come along. He looked terrible…
And I wasn’t expecting to see someone so brave, so strong, so intelligent become someone so weak and frail…. he was so frazzled, in fact, that he could barely formulate sentences. And I wasn’t sure he even would have had the strength to say what he just had if he hadn’t rehearsed it beforehand.
“I’m still not sure it’s a good idea,” I said and sighed, my nose clearly in their business. I wasn’t sure what gave me the authority to say something like that, or think that I should have, but something in me told me that it was ok.
“Live a little!” Derek laughed, his IV jutting out, making me nearly pass out. I couldn’t handle the sight of human blood. Pig blood, cow blood, horse blood even—those were fine, but not human blood.
I turned away. “Little being the keyword in my case.” I heard him say, and immediately no matter how queasy I felt, I looked up at him. My eyes glistened with sadness, I knew they did. I hated hearing that sort of attitude. I hated hearing about his fate, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted him to fight, or if because I hadn’t really faced the truth… Derek Sholts was probably going to die.
Dr. Freeman squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we aren’t that lucky,” he said, smiling down at me.
I knew that he was trying to make me feel better, and I appreciated it. I faintly smiled up at him in response, silently thanking him.
But after that, Dr. Freeman’s demeanor changed a bit.
The longer that I was in the room, the more that I felt there was something about him that I didn’t like. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was making light of every situation, or if it was the fact that there was something else that I felt was wrong with him.
I was fine with jokes, and I was fine with his light-hearted spirit. I felt that Derek needed that…but there was something about the way that he joked that seemed almost morbid, especially for a doctor—and especially for someone who was supposed to love him.
But I shook it off, realizing that other families had different dynamics, and morbid jokes were part of some family dynamics.
“Alright,” Dr. Freeman said after a while. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now, Zoe.”
He smiled at me as a way of ensuring that nothing was wrong, and I knew why I was being asked to leave.
They were about to begin another level of treatment.
Chapter 17
His suite never looked so good.
It was nearly nine that night by the time we finally made it back to his penthouse apartment. The good thing was, though, that the longer we sat in traffic the more of his strength he seemed to return. I knew he had to be exhausted though. It was a long day, I was sure.
His stepbrother of a doctor wouldn’t let me stay in the treatment area when he was getting pumped full of more treatment drugs, and I wasn’t exactly sure why. I assumed it was because I wasn’t family, but because I wasn’t allowed back there, I had no idea what all he had to go through.
So I had no idea how much of a toll it really took on him.
He never let it show that he was tired.
He hardly ever showed any sort of vulnerability in fact.
Yet, I knew he had to be worn out…and that thought was almost proven to be fact as soon as we closed the front door behind us. He moaned in excitement and immediately kicked off his shoes and looked around slowly, determined, but with hesitancy in his movements.
He used the wall as leverage as he continued to look around.
I wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was, I assumed he found it when I heard him sigh, disappointedly. Still using the wall to hold himself up, he pulled off his jacket and set it on the hardwood floor.
I watched him as his body instinctively walked towards his bar cart to pour himself a glass of whiskey just like he usually did. But only, he didn’t go for the whiskey. He went for a bottle of wine—which was uncorked and placed in what looked to be a bucket of melted ice.
“Uncorked?” I asked, watching him grab the bottle from the bucket along with two glasses.
“This was a really good year,” he said and sighed again, gesturing towards the gorgeous dark bottle. “I thought we’d be home a lot sooner,” he tried to explain, “so it’s a little under-chilled.” He handed me a glass. “Or over-chilled, depending on how you look at it.”
I smiled. That was a cute way to look at it. The ice had melted, and the wine, which had been chilled, heated back up to room temperature.
“Let’s sit on the couch and drink a little bit of it.” I smiled, reassuring him. Truthfully, I would rather have warm wine with him than cold wine with anyone else.
I knew that now. And it scared me.
He grinned at me and grabbed my hand, leading me to the couch. Although he would have never admitted to it, and although he never would have purposely showed it, I could tell that he was tired.
I was, too.
I sighed, as I cuddled up next to him. My eyes closed, tears welling up as my emotions came flooding in.
I knew what the emotions were…
And I didn’t like it. In fact, I wanted to slap myself with everything that I was worth.
I told myself not to fall for him. I told myself not to get close. Yet, as I lay there, atop his overly comfortable plush couch, with him right next to me sipping on a glass of wine, I knew that I had.
I had gotten way too close.
I had fallen in love with Derek Sholts.
I had fallen in love with a dying man.
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Jenn Marlow