The gurney had barely been parked and locked in place before employees were scattering around him like ants, some taking his vitals, some prepping him for his surgery.
Veda approached the side of the bed, snapping on latex gloves.
Gage circled the bed to the opposite side, his eyes never leaving Veda. He raised his brows while snapping his fingers at her.
Veda’s eyes widened in the midst of prepping the IV. “Don’t snap at me.”
“What the hell’s taking so long?” Gage demanded. “This man is in enormous pain, let’s get him some meds now.”
Brock held a hand out to Gage while shooting Veda an apologetic look. He spoke through clenched, chattering teeth, beads of sweat collecting rapidly on his forehead. “I’m fine.”
Veda raised her eyebrows at Brock. He wasn’t fine. She knew he was in agony. There was no way around it. He was showing exceptional composure for someone with second and third-degree burns. And it wasn’t the third-degree burns that were eating him alive. Those were so deep he probably couldn’t even feel them. No, it was the second-degree burns—the burns that made up a third of the damage to his leg—that were the real killer.
Veda met Brock’s eyes. “Mr. Nailer, I’m Veda. I’ll be your anesthesiologist today.”
“Just the person I’ve been waiting to see.” He smiled, but the pleasantry was laced with torment, his teeth clenching so tight it was a wonder they didn’t shatter. His voice wobbled, betraying his suffering. He gripped the handlebars of the gurney until his knuckles grew pale.
“You must be in an awful lot of pain,” Veda said. I hope it haunts you for the rest of your miserable fucking life.
“Ahh…” Brock feigned calm, waving his hand through the air. The number 5 tattooed on the inside of his wrist screamed out at her.
She locked onto that tattoo, the hair on her neck standing on end.
Veda’s hot eyes took in the second hand that clasped the railing from behind her, the scream in her throat now too hoarse to make a sound as he entered her, his skin slapping against hers and his breath heating up the back of her ear, making it sweat, as he emptied himself inside. Her burning eyes stayed riveted to the number 5 on his wrist. A tear fell from her eye, and he touched it after it rolled down his hairy arm.
“I think I want it in your ass,” he groaned into her ear. “Do you like it up the ass?”
“How could I be in pain when you’re here?” Brock whispered, covering his heart with his hand, hiding the tattoo.
Gage’s lips curled down.
Brock didn’t notice, his eyes falling to her name badge. “Shouldn’t I be calling you Dr. Vandyke?”
“I prefer Veda.”
“You can call her whatever you’d like, Mr. Nailer,” Gage interjected, shooting Veda a poisonous look.
Veda glared at him from under her lowered lids.
“Veda it is, then,” Brock said, his eyes moving back and forth between them knowingly.
Gage sighed as Veda brought the IV needle to Brock’s arm, preparing to inject. “Dr. Vandyke, the snail’s pace you’re moving at is completely unacceptable, and you can expect a discussion in my office before the day is out.”
“Jesus, Gage, give her a break, will you?” Brock begged. “Especially considering she’s got a needle primed at my arm.” He hissed when Veda injected the needle, immediately pressing a cotton swab at the injection site, followed by two pieces of tape.
She peeked up at Brock.
He smiled softly. “Barely even felt it.”
Her eyes fell.
“And her hands are warm too,” Brock said. “Some of the doctors in this place make a guy feel like he’s been dropped into a frozen tundra.”
I will not like Brock Nailer. Veda did her best to avoid his gaze. I will not like my number four.
Sure, he hadn’t cussed her out, uttered a single word of complaint, or emitted so much as an uncomfortable moan, even though he was in incredible pain. Sure, he was a model patient, proving himself better composed with half his leg charred off than most adults enduring a simple flu shot. Sure he was a philanthropist in medical research—charitable, kind, and he clearly had no problem going up against Gage when he was being a complete asshole.
But he was still her number four.
It didn’t matter how nice he was, how charitable he was, or how many sick people his foundations had saved over the years.
His balls were still coming out.
Point. Blank. Period.
“Oh, Veda…” Brock breathed, his lashes fluttering, smile growing lazy. “Oh, yeah… there it is.” For the first time since he’d been wheeled into the room, the grin on his face became genuine. It reached his eyes, making them gleam bright, and his long dimples emerged full force. “That’s the good stuff there. What is that?”
Veda scribbled his vitals on the chart as the rest of the staff continued milling around him. “A magical little drug called morphine.”
“A drug she took her sweet time injecting you with,” Gage said. “Moving a lot slower than I know she’s capable of.”
Both Brock and Veda shot Gage a look.
“I assure you, Mr. Nailer,” Gage said, still looking at her. “She’ll be reprimanded.”
Brock made a horrified face. He sputtered for several moments before finding his voice, pointing at Veda. “If you reprimand this woman, I’ll personally see to it that this hospital never receives another dime of my hard earned money. Are you out of your damned mind? This morphine angel deserves a raise for the gates of heaven she just opened up to me.”
Gage met Brock’s eyes. His jaw tightened.
Veda’s gaze moved between them, wondering if she could deviate from her plan and switch them up. At the moment, she’d have a much easier time cutting Gage’s gonads out than she would Brock’s.
“And what’s with all this Mr. Nailer vernacular?” Brock continued chiding Gage. “I get wheeled in on a gurney and all of a sudden I’m ‘Mr. Nailer?’ Like we didn’t go to camp together every summer? Spend every weekend at each other’s house? Lose our virginities at the same party?”
Veda’s heart zoomed to a stop and her eyes fell closed as tittered laughter came from everyone in the room but Gage. She was forced to hold her breath to keep from gasping. She could only imagine what party they’d lost their virginity at, and what woman had been on the receiving end.
Just like that, Brock Nailer had centered her mind, and she hated him more than ever.
She prayed for her heart to stop its mission of climbing up her throat. Feeling on the verge of a nervous breakdown, she reminded herself that, soon enough, this man was going down.
And Gage was going with him.
It was the only thought that helped Veda open her eyes, and when she did, she found Gage’s hard gaze looking right back at her.
Her stomach did a somersault.
His eyes fell back down to Brock, voice softening. “I’m at work,” he muttered, a slight hint of begging in his tone. “In this hospital, I’m Mr. Blackwater…”
Brock chortled again. “Whatever you say, Mr. Blackwater…” He shot Veda a smile while pointing to Gage. “This guy…”
Veda didn’t smile back, frowning at the vital screen, noting that Brock’s numbers were slightly erratic. Burns of this magnitude often caused inflammatory responses that could affect the function of his liver and kidneys, and while his vitals weren’t worrisome yet, they were getting awfully close.
And Veda couldn’t let him die until she’d gotten what she needed from him.
“Do you feel any dizziness or nausea?” she asked, looking for signs of internal distress. “Are you too cold or too warm?”
Brock shook his head, lips poked out.
Knowing he wasn’t a complainer, Veda slightly adjusted the output of his morphine drip, just to be safe.
“Well, regardless how sluggish the anesthetic aid, I’m thrilled that your pain has been minimized, Mr. Nailer,” Gage said. “And I hope you’ll keep the pro
mpt and efficient work of our other medical staff in mind when it comes time for The Nailer Foundation to decide whether to increase its endowment to encompass improvements in our obstetrics ward.”
Sour looks hit Gage from every angle.
But Brock chuckled. “My God, Mr. Blackwater, I assure you, the money is coming…”
Gage cleared his throat, sneaking a hard look at Veda before lowering his eyes and adjusting his tie.
“Those budget cuts are really doing a number on you, huh?” Brock shook his head at Gage as the nurses moved to the head of the bed and began lowering his gurney, so he was lying down. It was time for surgery. “You know, you’re a lot more handsome when you’re not soliciting donations.”
Soft laughter picked up in the room, but when Gage turned to see who was laughing, lips drawn, everyone turned away.
“Calm down, Mr. Blackwater.” Brock met Veda’s eyes, motioning to Gage with a smile. “Never could take a joke, this one.”
Veda didn’t smile back. She’d done everything in her power to express to Brock that she had no interest in exchanging jokes, pleasantries, or even smiles with him, but he seemed dead set on forcing her to do just that.
“I think my staff can take it from here,” Gage said, moving around the bed. He patted Brock’s good leg before starting towards the door. He spoke while walking away, hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Dr. Vandyke, I’d like to see you in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”
“It’d better be to give my morphine angel a raise,” Brock warned.
Gage shot Brock a glare over his shoulder and gave Veda one as well before turning and leaving the room completely.
“Aw, don’t pout!” Brock called after Gage. “Such a baby,” Brock said to the giggling nurses. “Always has been.” His head rotated on his pillow, and he gave his smiling eyes to Veda.
She pretended to be preoccupied with her chart.
“Will you stay with me…?”
Veda looked down at him, eyes widening.
He smiled again. “Through my surgery?”
She swallowed. “I don’t have much choice but to stay.”
“And if you did have a choice?”
I’d be slicing your nuts out right now. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Mr. Nailer.”
“Hmm…” Brock nodded toward the door, lowering his voice. “You know, he’s a fool.”
Veda’s skin tightened.
“Smart, beautiful… hands as warm as apple pie…”
She cut her eyes at him.
“Real.” He squinted at her. “Maybe to a fault.”
Veda took a deep, heaving breath, wishing he would stop talking.
“We don’t see a lot of real in our world. He was a fool to let you go.”
Veda wanted to tell Brock that, yes, Gage had been lucky to have her, but she’d been cursed to have him. That she’d been cursed, ten years ago, by both of them.
“You don’t smile much, huh?” Brock teased. “I think I like that about you.”
Veda didn’t respond—too busy drowning in the beauty of her own thoughts.
Then, she did smile.
Because Brock Nailer and Gage Blackwater were both about to learn just how real Veda Vandyke could get.
6
She couldn’t be pregnant. She was too screwed up to be pregnant. She didn’t have time to be pregnant.
“You’re not pregnant,” Veda whispered to herself, clutching the edge of the bed with one hand and the bronze chip she always carried with her in the other. The paper bed cover crinkled under her pink nails. “You’re not pregnant. You’re not pregnant. You’re—”
“Well, you’re definitely pregnant!”
Veda’s eyes flew to the door of the hospital room. Her gynecologist, Dr. Penny Nailer, smiled from the doorway, her white coat wafting with the air-conditioned breeze sneaking in from the hallway.
Silence.
“Oh,” Dr. Nailer sobered. “You’re one of those. Sorry…” She cleared her throat, forcing her blue eyes and bird-like features to go hard as she shook her blonde bob away from her face, using a more clinical tone of voice. “Uh, Ms. Vandyke, you’re definitely pregnant.” She nodded sharply, her thin pink lips pulled into a straight line.
Veda’s face slowly fell until she was sure her cheeks were about to hit the floor. She pressed her chin into her chest, peering at Dr. Nailer from under heavy eyelids. “How definitely?”
Dr. Nailer nodded. “99.9%.”
“Ah-ha….” Veda squinted one eye while pointing a finger at her. “But not 100%?”
“Uhhh…” Dr. Nailer’s eyes narrowed to the only window in the room, as if the starry night sky could help her explain to Veda that there was no getting out of this.
“So, here’s the thing,” Veda said, clapping her fists down on the bed, the paper cover crinkling once more. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“Are you considering abortion?”
“No. I’m considering not being pregnant. Even if I am. I can’t be.”
Dr. Nailer smirked, closed the door, and crossed the room, seizing the blood pressure kit sitting on the tray table next to the bed. She let a long silence dominate while wrapping Veda’s arm with the fabric blood pressure cuff.
“I can’t be pregnant,” Veda whispered, with much less authority, staring off into space. In the next instant, she buried her forehead in her hand, cursing under her breath.
“If only I had the power to un-impregnate a woman at the snap of a finger,” Dr. Nailer said, squeezing the inflation bulb, causing the cuff to swell and tighten around Veda’s arm. “I’d be rich!”
“It’s probably a false positive.” Veda’s voice filled with hope as she shot up and met her eyes. “We need to do another test. I’m not pregnant.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Are all the symptoms there? Sure. Have I been throwing up for weeks? Absolutely. But… my life is a disaster, so throwing up on a daily basis isn’t exactly out of the ordinary.”
Dr. Nailer removed the blood pressure cuff and placed a gentle hand on Veda’s back. “A woman always knows. And I think you know the truth, Veda.” She removed her gloves and moved across the room to drop them into the waste bin before facing her. “We should go ahead and get you scheduled for a blood test, pap smear, strep screening, and an ultrasound.”
“You don’t understand. I’m in no condition to be anyone’s mother. I would be a terrible mother.”
“Listen… Veda…” Dr. Nailer smiled at her, crossing her arms and leaning against the sink. “Take it from a woman who’s been doing this for years. The fact that you believe you’ll be a terrible mother means you’ll be a better mother than most. It’s the ones who think they’re Patron Saints raising the next Pope Francis that screw up their kids the worst.”
Veda smirked and then a laughed bubbled up her throat.
“Were you not on birth control?” Dr. Nailer asked.
“I was! I was on birth control. I never missed a pill. I got tested before I agreed to have sex without a condom. I did everything right, damn it. But, of course, I fell head first into the 0.001% that gets screwed over anyway. Of course.” She sighed, shooting Dr. Nailer a look. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem. You were nice enough to see me outside your normal hours, and now I’m screaming at you.”
“Listen. I get it. It’s a big responsibility. An expensive responsibility. Nothing to take lightly.” She took a deep breath and approached the bed. “Listen, I can give you the phone number of—”
“No.” Veda shook her head before she could finish. “I can’t have an abortion.”
“I hope I’m not overstepping, but…” Dr. Nailer took Veda’s hand between both of her own. “We both saw the x-rays. And the numbers don’t lie. Maybe the fact that you got pregnant, despite being on the pill, despite your unique circumstances… Maybe it’s a blessing, Veda. A real miracle.”
Veda sniffled. “The doctor who saw me? After the attack?… He said it would never
happen.”
“The numbers support his assertion. But never is a strong word, and I think we’re both learning—after one of those little guys slipped through the pill and all of your tubal scarring… that you’re one to defy the odds.”
“I just never pictured it. Having kids. Being someone’s mom.”
“You’re still young. You’ve just finished medical school. You’ve got your entire life ahead of you. The world at your fingertips. I don’t blame you for not being ready. You’ve still got a lot of living to do.” Dr. Nailer squeezed her hand. “But can I let you in on a little secret? Off the record? Woman to woman?”
Veda nodded softly.
“There’s never going to be a perfect time. Don’t wait too long. I did, and I regret it every day.” She sniffled. “I was born with an inhospitable womb. Years ago, I didn’t care. I didn’t see it as a loss. I was a lot like you actually. I didn’t want kids. And when I got pregnant a little after med school, I wasn’t ready. I made the decision to terminate. I regret that decision…” She sucked in a breath, squeezing Veda’s hands tighter. “Every single day. Every single day… my husband and I fight for another miracle, and when we don’t get it, I wonder if the God’s are punishing me for what I did.”
Veda squeezed her hand back, unable to think of the right thing to say.
“That doctor was right, Veda. The infection you acquired during your attack left the kind of scarring that makes impregnation nearly impossible. It shouldn’t have happened for you. But it did. And this might be the only one. This might just be your miracle.”
Veda bit her bottom lip. Even though she hadn’t told Dr. Nailer the real story about her attack, but instead made up some fictional man who’d followed her down a fictional alley on a fictional date, the gist of it was still there. The fact that one of her attackers had lingered inside of her long after they’d dumped her in the ocean for dead. That one of them had left behind an infection that was curable but had already reaped havoc on her uterus by the time she’d even realized it was there.
Assuming the emotion in Veda’s eyes was due to thoughts of her baby, and not blind rage at the thoughts of her worse enemies, Dr. Nailer patted her hand.
Yearn (Revenge Book 4) Page 4