I’d been careful since arriving back in our hometown, Blue Beech, Iowa, avoiding all the places Kyle said she frequented. In the back of my mind, there was the reality that, eventually, we were bound to cross paths. This town is small, and the gossip is heavy.
Although I couldn’t have planned our reunion better myself. It stung, seeing her, touching her, and when I pulled out the handcuffs, I wished I could’ve been using them for a different reason—preferably in my bed.
She’d ruined the chance of that happening years ago. Lauren made her choice to leave me, and my life has been shit since.
I struggle with myself on what to feel about today’s events. Relief clung to me when she told me to drop her off at her parents’, not a boyfriend’s. No diamond graced her finger. It was the first thing I’d looked for when handcuffing her. I won’t lie. I feel some satisfaction in knowing she hasn’t found love again either.
I rub away the knot of tension in my neck.
Why do I give a fuck?
She’s not why I came home. It was for my dad … for my fucking sanity … so I wouldn’t charge into the Department of Corrections every time I got drunk and demand Missy pay more for what she did.
My keys hit the kitchen table next to the stack of decade-old Time magazines. My father is seated next to them with a newspaper in his hands, and his oxygen tank is at his side.
“She knows I’m back,” I say.
He folds up the paper and places it in front of him. “How’d it go?”
“I arrested her.”
His sunken chestnut-colored eyes study me before he responds, “Son, I understand you’re upset with her, but was that necessary?”
“Absolutely. She set a building on fire.”
He rubs his chin. “I think we both know you weren’t doing it for the safety of the town.”
“Of course I did it for that reason.” I cock my head. “I can’t say it didn’t give me pleasure though.”
He sighs. “Forgiveness is a brave thing, son. A man becomes strongest when he bears no malice.”
“I don’t want your words of wisdom. I’m not ready to bury that hatchet.”
“Jesus Christ, Dad, what the hell are you doing up there?”
My head is tilted back to gain a better view of him on the roof, tinkering with the satellite dish. It looks almost comical when I eye his oxygen tank following behind him while he moves the dish in different angles and directions.
He grunts and catches a deep breath before answering, “Dang satellite dish is actin’ up again. I’ve already missed fifteen minutes of the game.”
“And you thought it was a killer idea to climb on the roof with your tank?”
How he managed to pull it off is beyond me.
He shoots me a stony stare—the same one he gives when I stop him from doing physical work that is too hard on his body. “I’m a grown man who’s climbed atop rooftops and buildings taller than this. I’m capable of fixing stuff myself.”
Accepting his limitations on doing manual labor has been difficult for him. His health is deteriorating, and his chronic obstructive pulmonary disease is progressing. The COPD makes it harder for him to complete his daily tasks.
“You’re a sick grown man,” I correct, hating that I have to remind him and hoping he doesn’t see it as an insult. I stalk over to his old, rusted ladder settled on the side of the house and wiggle it, double-checking it’s at least halfway steady before I climb up. “Let me help you down, and then I’ll take a look at it.”
He stomps my way, wheeling his tank behind him, and stumbles in front of me when I make it to the top of the ladder. “I got this. Stop treating me as if I were a child!”
I grit my teeth. “No, you don’t got it. Now, let me help you down.”
He teeters forward at the same time I reach for him. My arms fly out in an attempt to catch him, but it only sends me down with him, taking the ladder with us.
Three
Lauren
“Nurse Barnes, treatment room three, patient fell off a ladder,” Natasha, the nursing director, tells me when I stroll into the ER after my brief dinner break.
The hospital has been short-staffed since I started three years ago, and I work more than I sleep. Not that I mind it, especially now, given that I’m homeless and I need all the overtime hours I can manage.
“How serious?” I ask.
Ladder falls can range from minor to pretty damn ugly. You can walk in to find a patient suffering from a broken arm or one needing facial reconstruction surgery.
Welcome to ER life. You never know what will be thrown at you each shift.
“Nothing too gory,” she answers. “I’m guessing only stitches. Guy was helping his dad off a roof. Dad fell and took them both down. Melanie is treating the father.” She grins and elbows me in the side, her voice changing into an annoying bubbly tone. “I stuck you with the son in case you’re in need of some delicious eye candy … or a date.”
I smack her shoulder. “You know it’s frowned upon to date patients.” Not that I ever would, even if it wasn’t.
She winks. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Stitches. Got it.” Stitches are easy-peasy.
“Ask him if he wants to grab some drinks with those stitches!” she yells to my back when I turn around.
I shake my head, blowing off her comment, and knock on the exam room door before entering. Work has taken my mind off Gage’s being back, and giving people stitches is relaxing to me, like yoga is to some people. I got certified in suturing instead of learning how to meditate.
The voice on the other side yells for me to come in, and I don’t hesitate before turning the handle and walking in, my self-proclaimed perfect nurse smile on my face.
My smile falls as I shuffle back. The door slams behind me, and I steady myself against it.
You’ve got to be kidding me! Is the universe against me this week?
Gage’s shoulders stiffen when we make eye contact. I rub my forehead, my eyes catching his, and take a calming breath. A sleeve on his white cotton tee is ripped, and blood, grass, and mud stains decorate the front of it. His hand holds bloody gauze to his cheek, and minor cuts and scrapes are spread along his face and chin.
“For someone who despises my existence, you sure are going to extreme measures to see me again,” I comment before taking a deep breath and moving away from the door to grab a pair of latex gloves.
“Funny,” he mutters. “Trust me, it was not in my plan to see you today … or ever if I could have it my way.” A smirk hits his bloody lip. “I won’t say I can complain about the view though. Sexy nurse and patient is my favorite porn. Shall we give it a go?”
I snap on the gloves and force a laugh while moving further into the room, which suddenly feels much smaller. “You know, this is your Karma for what you pulled yesterday. Don’t count on any friendly bedside manner.” I give him an innocent look. “It’s tragic that I can’t have fun and stick you with a giant needle or shove something up your ass. Would’ve made my day.”
It looks like he’s fighting pain to give me a challenging look. The dude is here for medical attention, and I’m giving him shit. Not cool. This is my job, and I have to do it right, no matter our history … or the fact that I’m terrified what emotions will be drawn out when I touch him.
He winces when I carefully pull his hand away from the gauze and peel the material back. I inhale the masculine scent of him—aftershave mixed with the outdoors. Like every muscle in his body, his scent has matured. His breathing quickens while I inspect the wound.
It’s small. Not a deep laceration. Natasha was right about the stitches. It’ll be an easy cut to close up.
“Wishing you could stick something up my ass doesn’t sound like good bedside manner, Nurse Barnes. Doubt your boss will be happy, hearing you’re discriminating against patients. Public service patients to be exact,” he comments as I move away to gather my supplies.
“This might hurt,” I say w
hen I’m finished and back at his side.
“Shit!” he says through clenched teeth when I start to irrigate his wound. “You could’ve warned a dude.”
“I did.”
He flinches, a slight hiss escaping his lips, while I work. I take my time, making sure the wound is meticulously irrigated, and clean the dried blood off the scruff of his cheek.
“I’m discriminating against assholes, by the way,” I finally correct, my attention on his cheek. “Not patients.”
He snorts. “I’d love to see your boss’s face when you use that as your argument. It’s not smart to get canned from work when you’re homeless.”
I shrug. “He won’t do anything.”
His brow lifts when I pull away and start throwing my trash away. “You seem too cocky, Nurse Barnes. You sleeping with your boss?”
“Something along those lines. Fucking him. Sleeping with him after.” I pat his arm. “Tattle all you want. It’ll only make him want to screw me more. I wouldn’t be surprised if he drags me to the supply closet and gives it to me there.”
His jaw clenches.
Exactly my goal.
So what if it’s not true?
“Your dad okay?” I ask.
We’re in need of a subject change before he continues his interrogation and catches me in my lie.
He clears his throat before nodding. “He’s in the next room. Luckily, we fell in the grass. I took the biggest hit, and even though he seemed fine, I insisted he get checked out.”
The sharpness of his voice guts me. My words hit him harder than his physical wound. Our banter dissolves, and he doesn’t give me another look while he lies back, and I start dragging out my supplies. A knock on the door causes us both to look at it, and I grin at the sight of Jay walking in looking handsome in his blue scrubs. Jay isn’t only a great doctor. He’s also great looking.
Hopefully, he doesn’t catch on to who this patient is.
“Hi, Gage,” Jay says, walking into the room and extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Whitman. I heard you and your father had a fall.”
Gage looks at Jay with uncertainty before shaking it, and I wish I could read his mind. “Could’ve been worse.”
Jay snaps on gloves, and I scoot out of his way to give him room to inspect Gage. I bite into my lip at the sight of Gage’s jaw clenching when Jay touches his cheek.
“Cut isn’t too deep, big guy,” Jay says, glancing back at me. “Good job on irrigation, and thank you for having the anesthetic ready. I’ll give it to him and let you fix him up.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
Jay goes to his tray and grabs the needle. “This might hurt for a second, but it’ll feel much better when I’m done, trust me.”
Gage grits his teeth but doesn’t let out a sound when the small needle hits the opening in his cheek.
Jay hands me the needle to dispose of and pats Gage’s shoulder. “Nurse Barnes will do your sutures.” He holds his hand up and wiggles his fingers. “She has magic fingers. I’ll be sure to check up on you when she’s finished and get you set to discharge. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Nurse Barnes or me.”
Gage nods. “Thanks, Doc.”
Jay’s attention turns to me while he takes off his gloves and tosses them in the trash. “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”
I smile. Jay is officially my favorite person. “Wouldn’t miss it. Clayton’s, right?”
He nods. “Seven o’clock.”
“See you at seven.” I run a hand over my mouth in a zipping motion. “And my lips are sealed, so no one finds out.”
Jay snaps his fingers and points my way. “And that’s why you’re my favorite woman.”
He shoots Gage a final look before leaving the room. Gage’s breathing turns heavy when I move back to his side, and his hands are balled into fists. He seems in more pain than he was before we treated him.
“Was that not enough to numb you?” I ask, tilting my head toward the door. “I can ask the doctor to give you another shot or maybe some pain medicine.”
“No need to do that,” he snaps, not looking at me.
“Okay,” I draw out. “Let me know if you change your mind. It’s no problem.”
The air seems thicker, and his anger over my supposed affair with my boss is stronger. I sigh while grabbing the needle holder and move next to him. He doesn’t say anything when I help him lie on his back, and the room is quiet while I start stitching him up.
It’s the first time I’ve treated someone I’ve been intimate with.
Not to mention, it’s Gage.
My Gage.
Well … used to be my Gage.
I should’ve walked out and told Natasha I couldn’t treat him.
Conflict of interest.
It is a conflict when the patient hates you, right?
I’m almost finished when he finally speaks, “That your husband?”
“Nope,” I answer.
“He was wearing a wedding ring.”
I look down at him with a gentle smile. “Was he? I’ve never noticed.”
If he could pull away from me, he would.
Disgust covers his features. “Never thought you’d go so low as to sleep with a married man.”
I don’t answer him as I tie the last suture. Nor do I when I inspect my work or when I clean up my mess and help him up. It doesn’t come until I throw my gloves away and grab the door handle.
“I wish you a speedy recovery, Officer.”
I shut the door and stalk to the restroom, controlling my tears until I hit the first stall and let them out.
Four
Gage
My nerves are shot to hell, and I hold myself back from busting out of this exam room and doing something stupid, like confronting the bastard doctor using Lauren as a side chick.
I tip my head back.
Dude was wearing a wedding ring.
She wasn’t.
She’s a mistress.
Where the fuck is the girl I fell in love with years ago?
She’s gone. That much is clear.
My attention goes to the door at the sound of a knock. As bad as I don’t want to, I hope it’s Lauren on the other end.
My wish isn’t answered.
My nostrils flare when Dr. Whitman walks back into the room.
Fucking douche bag.
Dude looks smart, rich, like he has his life in order, except for the whole cheating thing, and I bite back the urge to demand he get out of my face. Problem is, I’d look like a dumbass.
Lauren is no longer mine. She can do whatever … or whoever … she wants.
That doesn’t mean I’ll be happy about it, nor will I be happy for her.
He smiles like he isn’t fucking the girl who owns my heart. “Nurse Barnes said she stitched you up. You got lucky, having the nurse with the best hands, although I’m surprised at how fast she was with you. She might’ve broken a record.”
“I’m sure she’s a busy woman,” I grumble. I want to rip this fucker’s arm off.
He inspects my stitches and removes his gloves. “That she is. We see a fair number of patients for a smaller hospital. I’ll send the discharge nurse in. Hopefully, I’ll have you and your father out before the game comes on.”
I can’t help but laugh. “He tell you he was leaving if you didn’t?”
“Sure did.”
I stop him when he turns around to leave. “You married, Dr. Whitman?”
He twists his ring with a smile filled with memories. “Yes.”
Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him.
“Nurse Barnes is a lucky woman.”
He flinches. “Excuse me?”
“Nurse Barnes is your wife, correct?”
He cocks his head to the side. “Mr. Perry, I’m not sure where you got the idea.” His eyes widen when I crack my knuckles. “I’m confused on where you’re going with this.”
“How would your wife feel about you having an affair with a nurse? Treating Lau
ren as a side piece to get your rocks off while going through some midlife crisis?”
He shakes his head while processing what I said. “Lauren is not my wife, nor is she my side piece. I’m very happily married to my husband, Alec. Alec is one of Lauren’s closest friends. The invite was to my husband’s surprise birthday dinner. I apologize if any behavior led you to believe there was an inappropriate relationship between us.”
I’m rarely lost for words. This is one of those moments.
Fuck. Lauren’s lie made me look like an idiot.
Dr. Whitman stares at me for a moment, blinking. “You’re him.”
I raise a brow.
“You’re Gage. Lauren’s Gage.”
What? Has she talked about me?
“No. I’m just Gage.”
“Not from what I’ve heard.” He laughs. “Alcohol makes Lauren talkative.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Her nickname was Motor Mouth in high school.
“I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr. Perry.” He lowers his voice. “If you are the Gage she talks about during our weekly happy hour, don’t let her fool you. She still loves you.”
My nails bite into my palms. “You don’t turn your back on people you love.”
He tips his head down. “All right then. The discharge nurse will be here soon with your prescriptions. Don’t hesitate if you have any additional questions for me.”
“Thanks.”
I pull out my phone when he leaves.
Me: Do you have plans tomorrow night?
It beeps with a reply seconds later.
Phoebe: I’m free all night.
Fuck. Lauren had better not bail tomorrow night. Phoebe is a stage-five clinger. I’m risking my privacy for revenge.
Me: Dinner at Clayton’s at 7:00?
Phoebe: Pick me up at 6:30. I’ll bring an overnight bag.
I stop myself from telling her not to bother. She can’t bail on my ass before I succeed in calling Lauren out on her lie.
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