Unbreakable (Unrestrained #4)

by S. E. Lund

  Then I went to his office.

  I arrived a few moments later and saw that his door was open and he was seated behind his desk, his reading glasses on and a file open on the desk before him.

  “Hey, Fred,” I said and went inside his office, closing the door behind me.

  “Have a seat, Drake,” he said and closed the file. I took the chair across from him and waited. “Tell me what this is about,” he said and leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled.

  “I may have to withdraw from the program,” I said softly.

  “What?” he said and leaned forward. “Why? I thought everything was going well. You have less than two months left. Your residents like you, you’ve had some great cases, your research project is doing well.”

  I took in a deep breath and told him the truth.

  “I’m having problems with Lisa Monroe. She’s interested in some kind of relationship, but I’m married and she doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer.”

  He closed his eyes. “I was worried she was going to be a problem after the incident in the bar. Just ignore her. Tell her it’s impossible.”

  “She has something on me, and threatened to use it if I wasn’t ‘nice’ to her.”

  “What’s she got?” Fred asked, frowning. “If you can tell me. If you can’t, I really won’t be able to help.”

  “I,” I said and hesitated. “I was involved in the kinky lifestyle before I met my wife,” I said and watched his face. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. “Lisa and I had a couple of encounters in the past that I had no memory of because we wore masks. She threatened to reveal my participation in the lifestyle if I wasn’t her friend.”

  Fred shook his head. “What?”

  “It was after my divorce,” I said and shrugged. “I played around, met a woman who was into kink and tried out a few things. Lisa and I were what’s called play partners a few time at a party.” I didn’t say more, not wanting to reveal more than I had to.

  “Drake, you should have told me as soon as you knew,” Fred said and shook his head. “The good thing is that she’s not your resident, so there’s no conflict there and as long as that was in the past, I don’t see an issue unless either of you are harassing the other.”

  “She’s threatened to reveal my past. I wanted you to know the truth. If I have to withdraw, I will.”

  Fred shrugged. “I lived in Japan for a few years a while ago and know all about the lifestyle. It’s nothing in Japan – every man wants to be tied up by a dominatrix and every woman wants to play at being a top.”

  Relief flooded through me that at least Fred understood. However, he was just one person in a supervisory position over me. There was no guarantee that others would be as liberal or accepting.

  “You’re not involved at all with her now?” he asked, pulling out a file and opening it as if he was ready to move on to something else. “With Lisa, I mean?”

  “Not at all.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t see this as a problem, but I can’t promise everyone will be like me.”

  “I honestly don’t know if she’d carry through with her threat to reveal my past, but I can’t take the chance.”

  “Is she going to be a problem for the program? I mean, is she unstable?”

  I pursed my lips and thought about how to phrase things. “She seems very bright and a talented surgeon from what I’ve seen and from talking to Brodinski. She doesn’t seem to accept that nothing is going to happen between us. If she’s going to insist and threaten me, I’ll have to pull out.”

  He frowned. “That’s entirely your decision,” he said, his expression serious. “I hate to see you withdraw. You’re so close to finishing your accreditation.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to. If I do withdraw, I’ll apply somewhere else. I really don’t want to leave Manhattan since my wife’s doing her MA at Columbia but if I have to, I have to.”

  “Like I say, we can probably work around this. Let me know when you’ve made your final decision. Of course, I’d be happy for you to stay and in fact, I’d encourage you to stay. We really appreciate having someone with your expertise supervising our residents and contributing to research at NYU and don’t want to lose you. I’ll speak with her, find out what’s going on.”

  “No, don’t do that,” I said quickly. “I don’t want to cause any problems with her.”

  “You understand I have to speak with her now that you’ve brought this up.”

  I sighed. “I understand,” I said. “I didn’t want it to get to this point, but she’s harassing me.”

  Finally, Fred stood and we shook hands, and I was sorry that I had to pull out but while Fred was fine about my past, others in the administration might not be.

  I hoped I’d never have to find out.

  On my way back to my office, I felt a huge sense of relief flood over me. I didn’t realize until that moment how much stress I felt dealing with Lisa and her constant threat to reveal my past. Fred had been really understanding, but I couldn’t be sure everyone else would be. There were people who could never understand kink. Hopefully, it wouldn’t get to that point. If I could only manage Lisa for a few more weeks, I’d be finished and through with her.

  I arrived at my office and sat at my desk, looking at the files without being able to read them. I was torn.

  Could I handle seven more weeks of her?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Kate

  Drake called me on Thursday to let me know he would be late due to a practice with the band so I knew I wouldn’t see him until really late. I decided to walk down to a deli close to Central Park, grab a sandwich and something to drink, and sit in the park. I loved watching the sun set, the long orange-red sunbeams falling between the buildings surrounding the park, glinting on the windows.

  I checked my watch and saw that it was close to five o’clock. I finished my sandwich and threw the wrapper into a trash can. When I went to cross the street, I saw my trusty security detail parked a few cars down the block. Its lights flashed on as the black SUV pulled out of the spot so he could trail me as I walked along the street. I told him I didn’t want a ride, because I needed the fresh air and so he followed me down the street, keeping a few car lengths behind.

  I decided to take a more circuitous route back to the apartment, so I could walk along Central Park, so I stepped off the curb and heard the screech of tires…

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Drake

  My world came crashing down when my pager went off while I was on my way from my office to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich for supper.

  I assumed it was one of my residents, reminding me about getting off early for drinks and food, but I had already told them I had a practice and was staying over the supper hour to wrap things up before I left for the night.

  I checked my message. It was from John, Kate’s bodyguard.

  If you’re at NYU, get to the ER right away. Kate’s on her way there in an ambulance. She was involved in a hit and run when crossing the street. I told them to take her to NYU where you are. I tried to call you but your cell went to voice mail.

  I ran to the ER, my heart pounding almost out of my chest, a constriction in my throat.

  When I arrived, I spoke to the nursing staff, who informed me that Kate was being brought in and would arrive any minute. I stood by the ambulance bay waiting, taking in deep breaths trying to calm myself, running everything I’d learned about trauma to pregnant women in my time working the ER. The last thing Kate would need would be me panicking, but in those minutes while I waited, my heart racing, adrenaline pumping, I couldn’t help it.

  Kate, oh, Kate… Katie… My hands were shaking and I felt close to tears.

  I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The minutes seemed to stretch interminably, as I ran down a checklist of what to do. Finally, her ambulance drove up and I ran to meet it. The doors opened and I saw her on the stretcher, an oxygen mask covering her face.
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  I introduced myself. “I’m Dr. Morgan, her husband. What have you got?”

  “She was struck in a pedestrian crosswalk and has a head injury and vaginal bleeding. How far along is she?”

  “Twenty-nine weeks,” I said, thinking about the odds of the baby surviving if they had to deliver her now. From memory, I thought she had a pretty good chance of surviving if they had to do a crash C-Section but that would depend on how much blood Kate lost.

  The EMTs brought her in on a stretcher, rolling her in with grim faces. She was on a backboard, was wearing a cervical collar, had an oxygen mask on and they had already started an IV and were giving her Ringer’s.

  I took Kate’s hand as they wheeled her into the trauma bay. Already, nurses and ER docs were waiting for her, and I knew I had to step back and let them take over. I let go of her hand with reluctance, but had to trust that they were the most capable of dealing with her. One of the nurses came to me and put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Dr. Morgan, I’ve contacted Dr. McAllister. She’s on her way but she was just finished in the OR and so she won’t be able to scrub in but can consult, if she’s needed.”

  I nodded and watched while the EMTs transferred her care to the ER staff, letting them know her vitals and the specifics of her case. I listened as I stood in the entrance to the trauma bay, my chest tight, my throat choked, hands still shaking.

  The good news was that both patients were still alive. The bad news was that Kate’s pulse was high and thready, indicating loss of blood. Her heart was pumping fast to try to keep her body oxygenated. They’d given her Ringer’s to replace blood volume. She was unconscious but her pupils were responsive, indicating that she wasn’t brain dead. They checked for the baby’s pulse and it was strong, but showing occasional decelerations, which could either be premature labour induced by the trauma or an abruption – the separation of the placenta from the uterus. If that was the case, they had only minutes to deliver Sophia before she would be affected by lack of oxygen.

  I watched helplessly while they wheeled in a portable ultrasound machine and imaged her uterus while the nurses cut off her clothes in preparation for surgery. They’d deliver her if the ultrasound showed that she had an abruption or internal bleeding.

  I tried to see the ultrasound monitor but couldn’t over the staff crowed around Kate, working on her.

  “She’s abrupted,” the ER doc said and nodded to the others. “Let’s get her in the OR stat.”

  Then, in a matter of mere moments, Kate was rushed to the closest OR and that was it.

  “I want to scrub in,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Morgan,” the circulating nurse said when I stood outside the OR. “You know better than that. Wait here,” she said. “They’ll do their best to save them both. What is your wife’s blood type?”

  “A-positive,” I said, straining to see Kate over her shoulder. “Save her,” I said, my voice finally breaking. “If it comes to a choice, save my wife.”

  She nodded and left me, going back to the OR table to speak with the other staff. I watched through the window as they transferred Kate from the gurney to the OR table, shocked at the blood I saw covering her thighs. In seconds, someone had a unit of blood up on the IV pole and began infusing it. The anesthetist had a mask over her face and they began to drape her and prepare her for a crash C-section.

  One of the nursing staff came to me and took my arm. “Come into the conference room, Dr. Morgan,” she said in a soft voice. “You can watch the video feed.”

  ORs were often videotaped for teaching purposes. I could watch the entire procedure from the conference room.

  A crash C-Section is the way it sounds – everything moves extremely fast because, usually, surgeons are trying to save the baby’s or mother’s lives. Often both. That was the case now, as Kate and Sophia were both in danger. If the abruption was too extensive, Kate would bleed too much before they could deliver the baby, and the baby would be without oxygen for too long and die. The veins and arteries in the uterus were large and the placenta had a rich blood supply. Kate was in danger from hemorrhage as well, let alone any head or other internal injury she might have sustained. Depending on how long it took to deliver the baby and tie off any bleeders, she could lose even more blood.

  All the permutations went through my mind – everything I learned in medical school – the possible complications. The risks. I felt completely helpless for the first time in a long time, watching as the surgeon made an incision and began to cut through the layers of skin, subcutaneous fat, muscle and the uterus itself to get to the baby.

  To Sophia.

  I wiped my eyes and watched as they laid Kate on the operating table, her arm stretched out for the IV, a tube down her throat, leads going from her chest to measure her vitals. Blood dripped off the table onto the floor as they pulled my daughter out of Kate’s womb and I wept when I saw her limp body in their hands, waiting to find if she was still alive.

  Far too tiny, red, wrinkly, covered in blood.

  Sophia Marie McDermott Morgan.

  They transferred her quickly to a waiting table where they worked on her, intubating her, attaching ECG leads, cleaning her off, putting in an IV, then I saw the reassuring and very rapid blip of her heart on a monitor, and I leaned closer, my vision blurred, trying hard to see her.

  One of the nurses turned to the video camera, and held her thumb up to signal to me that she was alive.

  She was alive.

  Now that I knew Sophia had survived delivery, I turned my focus to Kate, and watched as they searched in her body to find the source of bleeding, hoping to cauterize and stitch up any wounds so they could stop the bleeding from the abruption and any other internal injuries. They worked away and then I saw a nurse hang another unit of packed cells on the pole. And then another.

  That wasn’t good – Kate was losing blood too fast. At some point, if they gave her too many transfusions, her clotting mechanism would give out and she could bleed to death, despite their best efforts. I knew only too well that death from automobile crashes was the highest cause of death for pregnant women.

  I watched as the nurses talked to each other, and I tried to turn up the volume so I could hear but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. No one was using any mics so all I had was video feed and one mic that was always on, but it relayed only a murmur for it was too far from the action.

  One of the nurses went to the door and spoke with someone outside of the OR theater. Soon, I heard a light tap at the door and in walked Dr. McAllister, her face the usual focused calm.

  “Drake, I’m so sorry about this,” she said and came to take my hand. “The good news is that your baby is fine. She was well-oxygenated the entire time so there’s little chance that there are any lasting issues since the abruption was minimal. They’re having problems stopping Kate’s bleeding from internal injuries to her spleen and a small tear in her uterine wall. They’re going to have to take her spleen and do a hysterectomy to save Kate’s life.”

  I nodded, and wiped my eyes. “Save her life,” I said, my voice shaking. “She’s too young to die.”

  “I just wanted you to know that they have to take her uterus. I’m sure you understand.”

  She squeezed my hand and I nodded in understanding.

  They didn’t take a uterus out lightly. It was done to save Kate’s life.

  I turned back to the screen when McAllister left the room and watched as they worked on Kate, unable to really see anything specific, but I knew the process. Cut off the blood supply to the uterus, clamping any vessels that were bleeding. Cutting the broad ligaments that supported the uterus inside the body, then removing the uterus itself entirely, careful to preserve the ovaries if possible.

  Kate would never get pregnant again. She’d never carry another baby of her own again and I wished so hard at that moment that I had spent more time with her while she was pregnant, feeling her belly, feeling Sophia moving inside of
her, enjoying Kate’s ripe body as she carried our daughter, giving her life.

  Tears flowed down my face and I didn’t care, because once more, I had been far too busy in my life, far too preoccupied with my career, with my fellowship, and with getting my certification and not enough time with the beautiful amazing woman who made my life meaningful.

  I felt so bad for Kate – she’d given up so much to have this baby. Her MA thesis on hold, all alone during the day at our apartment due to morning sickness, seeing me only a few hours each night. Now, to lose her uterus…

  There was always surrogacy and adoption, but what was more important to me was saving her life and that was all that mattered to me.

  I had finally found the love of my life and I couldn’t bear the thought I’d lose her not even a year since we were married. I prayed at that moment, despite not being a very religious man.

  I prayed to God, to the gods, to any overarching power in the universe, to save Kate’s life.

  An hour later, they had found all the bleeders, and were busy closing Kate up, having removed her spleen and uterus. She’d received another unit of blood and her vitals were critical but stable as they wheeled her into the ICU. I followed along in the hallway, getting a report from the ER doc.

  “We’re going to keep her sedated and once we’re happy with her vitals, we’ll do another CT of her head to check on any bleeds but I think her injuries were largely internal.”

  “Can I stay with her?” I asked, hoping they’d let me stay in the ICU so I could be with her.

  “They’ll call you when you can go in,” the ER doc said, his hand on my shoulder. “She’s pulled through. The next hour or so will tell us whether we’ve caught all the bleeders and once we have that head CT, we’ll know more.”

  We shook hands, and the expression on his face told me that while Kate had survived the initial operation, she was still in danger.