For a single breath of a single second, Jonah wanted to agree. He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her ever since she’d moved in, that he’d meant every syllable of what he’d said about her exes being morons of the highest order for not seeing how beautiful she really was. He wanted to say that he’d been an idiot himself for not fully realizing it until she’d landed under his roof, and now he couldn’t un-realize it. But Jonah could not, under any circumstances, say any of those things, so instead, he went with, “There’s nothing to talk about. I was out of line, and you deserve better. I apologize.”
“So, it was a mistake,” she said, hurt flashing through her stare again.
“It was an error in judgment,” he corrected, and yep. Idiot. For Chrissake, he had one rule. No emotions. No attachments. No exceptions. “Mine, specifically. Let me make it up to you by being a better friend. Let me drive you to the hospital.”
Before Natalie could argue—and her expression said she was primed and ready to—Jonah took a step toward her. “Look, I know you’re capable, and I know you’re tough. But would you please let me do this so I can also know you’re okay?”
She exhaled, her lips pressed together in what wanted to be a frown, but didn’t quite make the grade. “I could use the drive time to log into the system and review Annabelle’s chart,” she said. “Five minutes?”
“Done,” Jonah said.
The feeling in his chest as she walked away should have been relief, he knew. After all, his impulsiveness would’ve had their friendship on the chopping block if they hadn’t been interrupted. But as Jonah stood there, with the taste and feel of Natalie’s mouth still fresh on his, the feeling in his rib cage wasn’t relief at all.
It was regret.
9
Natalie sat back against the passenger seat of Jonah’s Lexus and tried not to feel like a fool.
Considering the circumstances, it was an uphill battle.
She hadn’t meant to tell him she was a virgin—God, her ears still burned at the thought of his handsome face so caught up in shock—and she definitely hadn’t meant to let whatever girlish fantasy she’d been having lately come to life by literally throwing herself in his lap. But all it had taken was a little laughter to go with that special brand of Jonah Sheridan charm, and a few well-meaning compliments later, bam. She’d tried to climb him like a fucking jungle gym.
If Rachel hadn’t called when she had…
Straightening, Natalie shook herself back to reality. Rachel had called, and Natalie really needed to focus on that. Jonah had flat-out said that the kiss had been a heat of the moment mistake, plus, Annabelle’s fever was troubling, and far more important than Natalie’s personal life. The little girl’s condition could be serious. She was Natalie’s patient, someone Natalie had promised to take care of. The truth was, she was worried, not just more than she’d let on to Rachel on the phone—that was a given; making the poor woman panic without a clear and concrete reason to wasn’t on Natalie’s agenda—but even more than she’d shown Jonah.
Or, at least, more than she thought she’d shown him. She must be slipping. She’d pulled out her most shiny “totally fine, nothing to see here”, only to have him insist on playing chauffeur.
And instead of feeling guilty that she’d put him out on a Friday night and made him worry that she wasn’t one hundred percent okay, she found herself grateful for the comfort of his presence.
Wanting to kiss him and wanting him, security blanket-style? Ugh, she was definitely slipping.
“You okay over there?”
“Yep,” Natalie said, just a shade too emphatically. She cleared her throat and gave herself a fleet-footed mental kick. “I’m fine.”
Jonah slid her a glance out of the corner of his Bahama blues. “Did anything jump out at you from Annabelle’s chart?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Natalie had used her staff access to pull up Annabelle’s chart on the secure hospital system via her cell phone a few minutes ago, and it was exactly as she’d thought it would be. She had discharged Annabelle herself, reviewing the orders with Rachel thoroughly no more than twelve hours ago. “I mean, she’s clearly brewing something with a fever that high. But until I can get a look at her and run labs, I’m just shooting rubber bands at the night sky, you know?”
Jonah nodded. “I do. But I also know she’s in great hands.”
“Thanks,” Natalie said.
He pulled into the hospital’s employee parking lot, swinging into a space marked Physicians Only before turning to pin her with a devastating smile. “Oh, I meant mine. I don’t hang out at this place for grins, you know. If I’m coming out to the hospital on a Friday night, it’s because no one else’s expertise will do.”
Natalie laughed, just as he’d probably known she would. “Oh, my God. I honestly don’t know if there’s enough room in this car for the three of us.”
“Three?” Jonah asked, killing the engine.
“You, me, and your ginormous ego,” Natalie said sweetly.
Of course, his grin only got bigger. “Hey, size matters, sweetheart.”
As if he’d recognized the sexual innuendo too late, he straightened against the Lexus’s driver’s seat, palming the key fob and averting his eyes. “So, are you ready to do this?”
Natalie fought the flush that wanted to creep over her cheeks. Of course, he probably wanted to steer clear of anything suggestive enough to remind either of them about their impulsive-as-hell (hot-as-hell) lip lock. “Absolutely. I told Rachel to meet me in the ED, so let’s go see if they’re here yet.”
She hadn’t wanted to text Rachel as she and Jonah had gotten close to the hospital in case the woman was still driving. But a quick trip across the parking lot and past the main entrance to the ED revealed her sitting in the waiting room, her face drawn and pale and her arm wrapped around Annabelle’s shoulders.
“Oh, thank God,” Rachel said, relief spilling into her expression as soon as she saw Natalie, and Natalie’s heart lurched against her ribs despite everything she knew about staying one step removed from any medical situation, be it a paper cut or the plague.
Rachel looked from Natalie to Jonah, her eyes going momentarily wide. “I’m so sorry to bother you. You said to keep an eye out for things like fever and vomiting, and I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did exactly the right thing, Rachel. I wouldn’t have given you my personal number if I didn’t want you to use it in an emergency. This is Dr. Sheridan. He’s a trauma surgeon here at Remington Mem. Jonah Sheridan, Rachel Fletcher.” Natalie stepped back to let them shake hands and exchange a pair of brief hellos before turning toward Annabelle. “Hey, kiddo. Dr. Sheridan is a friend of mine. Would it be okay if he helped me figure out what’s making you sick?”
“Uh-huh,” the little girl said weakly, and the concern on Rachel’s face edged toward panic.
“You think she needs a trauma surgeon?”
Shit. Natalie shook her head. “Not at all. Dr. Sheridan is a very accomplished physician, and a good friend, who I trust. Sometimes having another set of eyes can make all the difference in a case. Plus”—she worked up a reassuring smile—“he gave me a ride here, so we’re kind of a two-for-the-price-of-one tonight.”
“Oh. Okay,” Rachel said, clearly relieved. Jonah turned toward Annabelle, who was curled up in her chair and hugging her stuffed fox to her chest. He didn’t normally handle pediatric cases unless it was necessary during an ED shift, and while Natalie still trusted his knowledge one million percent, she also knew that dealing with the under-ten set on a person-to-person level wasn’t smack in the center of his comfort zone.
“Why don’t I get a wheelchair so we can move you into an exam room. How does that sound?” he asked, and she gave up a small nod.
“Mkay.”
After going through the logistics of getting Annabelle checked in and gowned up, and alerting the night-shift attending that they were treating her,
Natalie pulled up the little girl’s chart for Jonah to review while she took her vitals.
“Okay, kiddo. Your mom gave me a little bit of the scoop on the phone, so now it’s your turn. What’s going on?” she asked, and ugh, Annabelle’s temperature was still 101.
“I don’t feel good. I’m tired and I feel sweaty.”
“Yeah, a fever will do that. How about your stomach? How does that feel?” Natalie asked, murmuring Annabelle’s temperature, blood pressure, heart rate and sats to Jonah, even though she barely broke eye contact with the little girl.
Annabelle hesitated. “Mommy gave me some chicken noodle soup and the medicine that’s supposed to make my fever go away, but I threw up.”
“Just that one time?” Jonah asked Rachel, who nodded.
“Yes. I thought it might just be residual from the chemo meds and everything she had here this week, but then her fever jumped from 99.4 to 101.9, too. I was scared to give her anything else to eat or drink after that. I didn’t want her to compromise her sutures or get dehydrated if she threw up again, and I figured you’d give her fluids once we got here.”
“Good thinking, Mom,” Natalie said. God, she hated that Rachel knew all of these protocols by heart. “Alright, Annabelle. I’m going to feel your belly and take a look at your incision. But before I get to that, is there anything else you can tell me and Dr. Sheridan that might help us figure out what’s making you feel bad? Does anything hurt, or not feel like it normally does?”
Annabelle bit her lip, hugging Mr. Flufferkins a little tighter. “My incision hurts.”
“What?” Rachel asked, straightening against the chair at Annabelle’s bedside. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
A familiar pang worked a path between Natalie’s ribs, quickening her heartbeat beneath her long-sleeved T-shirt. “That is pretty important, kiddo. Did it just start hurting?”
“No.” Tears formed in Annabelle’s eyes, wobbling on her dark lower lashes. “It’s been hurting since we got home. But I knew that was bad, and after I threw up, my mom looked really worried.” She looked at her mother. “I thought if I told you, you’d just get more scared.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Rachel shot off a few rapid-fire blinks and scooped up Annabelle’s hand, clearly fighting tears. Natalie wanted to say something, anything to bright-side the situation at least a little bit, but the whole thing was so close to home that her throat just refused to work.
Thankfully, Jonah broke the silence. “So, your incision site hurts, huh?” he asked gently, and when Annabelle nodded, he added, “Can you rate that pain on a scale of one to ten, if one is only a little bit of pain and ten is the worst you’ve ever felt?”
Natalie hated that Annabelle’s ten had probably been far more painful than what most people experienced in their entire lives, let alone in their first eight years. But she hated it even more when Annabelle whispered, “Six.”
Jonah looked at Natalie, his expression translating what she already knew. Low immunity from chemotherapy. Pain at the surgical incision site. Fever. Vomiting.
Post-op infection, Jonah’s eyes said.
I know, hers replied. Now, they just had to stop it before it got worse.
Natalie cleared her throat. “Okee doke. First things first. I’m going to take a peek at it. Then we’ll figure out why it’s hurting, and do our best to make it stop.”
“Okay.” Annabelle nodded. Natalie slathered her hands in antibacterial gel before grabbing a pair of nitrile gloves from the dispenser on the wall. Shifting the blanket over Annabelle’s legs, she made sure to only expose the part of her torso covered by tape and gauze, removing both as carefully as possible. Her heart climbed into her windpipe at the sight of the angry red incision, now clearly infected, and she took a deep breath.
“I know that hurts,” Natalie said, even though Annabelle’s clenched jaw said she was trying to brazen it out. Natalie looked at Jonah, who was clearly cataloguing everything he saw with care. “I’ll go as fast as I can.”
As gently as she could while still getting the job done, she did a quick exam, palpating the rest of Annabelle’s belly and starting to formulate a strategy in her head. She conferred with Jonah on what tests to run and meds to order, and in less than a few minutes, they came up with a strong, steady treatment plan.
“Okay, you two, here it is,” Natalie said. “Annabelle’s got a pretty nasty infection. We won’t know specifically what kind or how bad it is until we run some tests, but the good news is that nearly all infections like this one get treated in the same way.”
“So, we can start now,” Rachel said, and Natalie nodded.
“Yes. Which is good because that means that Annabelle will probably start to feel better pretty soon.”
Of course, Rachel read right between the lines. “But it’s bad because…?”
Natalie hesitated, and Jonah said, “We have to re-admit her.”
A sound of frustration crossed Annabelle’s lips, mirroring the look on her mother’s face, and Natalie cobbled together every ounce of calm she could find.
She touched Annabelle’s arm. “I know you just got released, and that you want to be at home, with all your toys and books. But we have to give you some pretty strong medicine and make sure it works, and we can only do that here. I promise, I wouldn’t make you stay if I didn’t need to. But in this case, I really do.”
Toughness slowly took over for the girl’s resignation, and she nodded. “Okay.”
“And hey”—Natalie’s heart squeezed, but she forced her expression to remain as untroubled as possible—“you don’t ever have to be scared to tell your mom or me if something hurts, or doesn’t feel right, okay? We can’t make you feel better if we don’t know those things. I promise, if your mom gets scared or worried, I’ll be here to help her, okay?”
She lifted her pinkie, and Annabelle hooked her little finger around it with a solemn nod.
“I promise.”
“Good deal.” Shifting back, she looked at both Rachel and Annabelle. “Our next step is to run some tests to see how bad the infection is and get some fluids and medicine going to make Annabelle feel better. I’ll see if we can get her settled into a room upstairs as soon as possible. I know you’re both probably exhausted.” The sooner both mom and daughter could rest, the better.
“I’ll grab an IV kit and have a nurse come in to do the draw for the labs,” Jonah said, turning toward the exam room door.
“Can Connor come do the IV? Please?”
Crap. Crap. “I’m afraid not, sweetie. He’s not here tonight.”
Annabelle’s voice wavered. “It really pinches when other people do it.”
Dread formed a heavy ball in Natalie’s gut. She hated the idea of hurting the kid, who was clearly needle-phobic and already a little dehydrated, but the IV had to be placed, so she said, “If you want, I can do it.”
Jonah cleared his throat from the spot where he still stood, a few feet away on the linoleum. “I’m pretty good at placing IVs, if you want me to give it a go.”
“Are you really?” Annabelle asked, doubt tinging her voice, and Jonah lifted a hand like he was taking an oath.
“I promise. Sometimes I have to do it really fast, so I practice a lot.”
Her eyes went wide. “Can you do mine fast?”
“As fast as I can and still get it right,” he said.
Annabelle seemed to consider this. “Do you have any bubbles?”
“Any…what?” Jonah blinked, as if Annabelle had asked for a trip to the moon with a side order of world peace.
“Bubbles,” she repeated, and the laugh that Natalie had been trying to cage popped out.
“They help with the deep breaths,” she told him. “Plus, they’re really fun.”
Jonah nodded slowly in understanding. “Oh. No. I’m sorry. I don’t have any bubbles.”
Annabelle’s face fell. Rachel opened her mouth, probably to reassure her daughter and remind her that she’d had plenty of IVs without b
ubbles, but Jonah’s eyes lit with sudden charm.
“I do have this really cool lidocaine spray, though.”
One of Annabelle’s dark brown brows arched suspiciously. Not that a little eight-year-old doubt was going to dissuade him. “We usually use it on people with minor burns to make them feel better.” He turned to look at Rachel. “It’s a topical pain reliever, but it’s got some short-term numbing qualities. It might take some of the sting out of the needle stick.”
“So, it’s magic,” Annabelle murmured.
Between the bubbles and the magic, Jonah had clearly been thrown for a loop. “It’s, um…”
“It’s a great idea,” Natalie said.
Looking grateful for the save, Jonah said, “I’ll go grab everything, then.”
Before he could fully pivot on his cross-trainers to turn the words into action, Natalie caught his eye and mouthed, thank you. His no-problem smile in return sent a thread of comfort through her, and she found herself able to fully exhale for the first time in over an hour.
She did have one piece of business to attend to, though, and it was one that couldn’t wait.
“Hey, Annabelle, would it be okay if I talked to your mom for a second out in the hallway? Boring grown-up stuff,” she added with an exaggerated eye-roll.
Annabelle nodded, and a few seconds later, Natalie and Rachel stood just outside the exam room doorway, although they left it open in case Annabelle needed anything.
“Thank you so much for all of this,” Rachel said. “You’ve done so much for me and Annabelle, and your boyfriend was great with her, too.”
“My what?” Natalie sputtered, her heart thwacking her rib cage at the suggestion.
Rachel’s brows lifted, and she gestured down the hallway in the direction in which Jonah had disappeared. “Dr. Sheridan. Aren’t you two…”
Natalie shook her head, prompting Rachel’s brows to inch even higher. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she said. “You got here together, then you said he was a good friend. I thought that was for Annabelle’s benefit. Plus, you two have some seriously crazy nonverbal communication skills. You read each other like the New York Times. I just assumed you’re a couple.”
Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Page 9