“Well, I’m really glad you’re connecting again.” Tightening her grasp on Jonah’s fingers, she snuggled in closer, his body feeling warm and solid and so, so good against hers. “I know I grumble about my parents being overprotective, but I love them, and I love that we’re close. Even if I am going to get my ass royally kicked by my father in Pictionary on Christmas Eve.”
“Speaking of things I want pictures of,” Jonah said with a laugh, and the idea that unfolded in her mind skipped right past her brain-to-mouth filter.
“Oh, my God, you should come with me! You’re not leaving for your dad’s until Christmas morning, and my parents would love to see you.”
Her parents had met Jonah years ago when they’d come to visit her at work, and she talked about him all the time, so it’s not as if they were strangers. Plus, her parents probably wouldn’t hover nearly as much if she brought a partner in crime, and then Jonah wouldn’t be alone on Christmas Eve. Talk about a win-win.
He stiffened beside her, his smile slipping before turning into the charming version he used on everyone else. “Ah, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family gathering. Plus, it’ll give me some time to rest before my drive to Charleston.”
Natalie’s gut dropped, and she gave herself a gigantic mental kick. She’d been so brain-drained by this whole job offer, then so happy hearing about the conversations he’d been having with his father, that the invitation had just barged out. Of course she wanted Jonah to come with her to her parents’ house. But of course he saw it as something she’d ask him to do if they were a couple. Something serious. Together indefinitely.
God, she really did want him to go with her.
“Oh, right. That makes perfect sense,” Natalie said, covering up the thought with a bright smile. They’d agreed to keep things casual. She’d been impulsive to ask him, even on a no-big-deal level. “I’ll probably be there super late, anyway.”
Jonah nodded, and after a beat that felt like forever, he gave her a dazzling smile. “So, should we watch a movie? There’s a Die Hard marathon on.”
“Sure,” she said with a grin. “You make the popcorn, I’ll grab the blankets?”
“Deal.”
But even after he’d kissed her and gotten up to head for the kitchen, the funny feeling in Natalie’s gut remained.
JONAH HAD the sneaking suspicion he’d acted like an idiot. Three days had passed since Natalie had asked him if he’d go with her to her parents’ house for Christmas Eve dinner, and while she’d acted one hundred percent normal after he’d declined, he’d seen the flash of disappointment in her eyes in the moment. To be fair, it was the exact same moment that he’d been clutching in dread at the impromptu invitation to the sort of event usually reserved for someone who’d achieved boyfriend status. But the more Jonah had thought about it, the more he’d realized that A) Nat had agreed to keeping things casual, and if her feelings had changed, she’d just freaking say so, and B) as much as the idea of Dinner With the Parents had been a hard no for him over the past three years, now that he’d gotten over the knee-jerk shock of her asking, he didn’t exactly hate the thought of going with her.
For Chrissake, this was Natalie. His best friend. The woman he’d been having more fun with over the past month than he’d had with anyone since…well, shit. Ever. He’d already met her parents ages ago. Yes, he had a serious aversion to anything even hinting at commitment—and for good goddamn reason—but this was totally different than if anyone else had asked.
She was totally different than anyone else, period.
“Damn,” came a familiar voice from beside Jonah, reminding him that he was leaning against the nurses’ station in the surgical unit, probably looking like he’d seen better days. A ten-hour shift with multiple trauma surgeries would do that to a guy, even without all the mental fuckery. “Long day, Sheridan?”
Jonah looked up at Mallory, who was handing a chart over to Parker. “Aren’t they all?” he asked, aiming for a nonchalant smile.
“The guy whose hip we just replaced would say yes,” Mallory replied, and Parker nodded.
“It was a pretty cool procedure, though.”
Mallory arched a dark brow. “You say that about all the surgeries you get to assist on.”
Parker arched a brow right back, although he paired the move with a smile. “I’m an intern. With all due respect, you’re damn right I do.”
“Fair enough.” Mallory turned back toward Jonah, his eyes narrowing in concern. “So, what’s got you making that face? Rough surgery?”
“Nah.” Jonah reached for the easygoing demeanor he attached to everything from work to women, his shoulders tightening when it wouldn’t come. “It’s nothing, really. I just…” Oh, fuck it. He wasn’t making himself feel any better by stewing in his thoughts. He might as well air them out and see if that helped. “If you’re friends with someone of the opposite sex, doing the stuff you’d do if you were more than friends is different, right? Like, it’s not as big a deal as if you were actually a couple.”
Mallory laughed, although he dropped his voice to keep the conversation away from anyone who might be passing by. “It’s so fucking cute that you think you and Kendrick aren’t more than friends.”
“We aren’t,” Jonah protested. “I mean, we are, but we’re not, like, together.” His heart rate skated higher as he realized, too late, what he’d admitted. “And who said I’m talking about Kendrick?”
“Um, you just did.” At least Parker had the good grace (and the good sense) to look semi-sheepish as he pointed out Jonah’s error, and shit. Shit. “But if it helps, we kind of put two and two together before this. You two have just had a different vibe around each other lately. Not a bad thing,” Parker added swiftly. “It’s just pretty obvious that you’re into each other.”
“Of course we’re into each other. We’re friends,” Jonah said, caving a second later at Parker and Mallory’s twin looks of annnnd? “And we also might be sleeping together.”
“Might be?” Mallory asked, painting the question with a healthy dose of good-natured sarcasm.
Jonah swiveled a gaze around the nurses’ station to make triple-sure no one was within earshot before he bit the bullet. “Fine. We’re definitely sleeping together. But we totally agreed to keep it casual.”
“Good Christ, it’s about time,” Mallory said. At the pure WTF that must have broken loose over Jonah’s face, he added, “What? You two have been attached at the hip for freaking ever.”
“It does seem like a logical step up,” Parker agreed with a shrug so matter-of-fact that the unease in Jonah’s chest took a breather.
“It’s no big deal, though. Everything is the same as it’s always been. Okay”—Jonah rolled his eyes at Mallory’s knowing look—“everything except the sex.”
“Which is…?” Mallory let the question hang, and Jonah couldn’t help the reflexive smile that took over any time he thought of Natalie in his bed…or his shower…or bent over his couch with the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating her skin…
“Even better than the friendship,” he said, leaving it at that out of respect for said friendship.
“Okay,” Parker said, after blinking twice in what appeared to be surprise. “So, you’re having great sex with someone you also like hanging out with, and you’re both on board with keeping things casual. This is a problem why, exactly?”
“She asked me if I wanted to go to her parents’ house for Christmas Eve dinner. I don’t think she meant it as a thing,” he emphasized at Mallory’s oh boy whistle. “Like I said, we agreed to keep things low-key, and Natalie doesn’t have a manipulative bone in her body.”
“That’s definitely true,” Mallory agreed, and Parker nodded to make it unanimous. “Still, holiday dinner with the parents is usually a pretty big deal.”
Parker tilted his head in dissent. “Not necessarily, though. I mean, this is a woman who spent a decent chunk of her last shift making sure we had a stash of presents wrapped
and ready for any kids who had to spend Christmas in the peds ward. You two are tight, and you’ve been spending even more time together lately. Maybe she didn’t want you to be alone.”
Well, shit. Parker just had to go and make fucking sense. “That does sound like Kendrick,” Mallory said. “Could be that she just wanted to hang out with you.”
He hadn’t even finished speaking before Jonah realized they were both probably right. He hadn’t meant to take Natalie’s request out of context, or—worse yet—turn it into something she hadn’t intended, but damn it, that was exactly what he’d done, and he’d disappointed her on top of it.
At least one of those things, he could fix. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she is right now, would you?” Jonah asked, and Parker nodded.
“Actually, yeah. She was over in oncology when we passed by after we got out of the OR. Sitting in the waiting area, of all things.”
Ah, right. She’d mentioned that her annual blood draw was today. Just in time to appease her mother for Christmas, she’d joked. “Got it. Thanks.”
Turning on the heel of one cross-trainer, Jonah aimed himself toward oncology. He made the trip quickly, just in time to see Natalie coming down the hallway, a cotton ball/gauze tape combo peeking out from beneath the sleeve of her scrubs.
“Hey,” he said, his heart speeding up in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that he’d fast-tracked his ass across two entire hospital wings to find her. Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. “I was looking for you. How did it go?”
“Uhm, fine,” she laughed, although she let out a breathy sigh as she hugged him back. “It was just a blood draw. I get one every year. Is that why you were looking for me? Because really, I’m—”
He dropped his mouth to her ear, close enough to ensure privacy, yet with enough distance between them to remain respectable. “Natalie Kendrick, so help me God, if you utter the word fine, I will have no choice but to spank you.”
She flushed, but didn’t look away. “Well. That does make it tempting. But it was just a tiny needle stick. Still, I’m grateful that you have my back.”
“I do,” Jonah said, and hell if it wasn’t why he’d come to find her in the first place. “Speaking of which, I wanted to ask you something.”
His cell phone chose that exact moment to sound off in the pocket of his doctor’s coat. He was tempted—not a little—to ignore the damned thing. But Natalie dropped her eyes to the sound of the ringtone so expectantly that he had no choice but to at least check to see who it was.
Wait… “That’s weird,” he said, squinting at the screen to be sure he was reading it correctly. “We didn’t call anyone at Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital for a trial for Annabelle, did we?”
“Saint E’s?” Natalie asked, her nose crinkling in confusion. “The one in Charleston?”
“Yeah, I…” Jonah tapped the icon to take the call, an odd feeling pricking somewhere deep in his chest. “Jonah Sheridan.”
“Dr. Sheridan?” came a voice over the line, changing his world with just one breath. “My name is Dr. Christina Reyes. I’m an emergency physician at Saint Elizabeth’s Hospital, in Charleston. I need to speak with you about your father.”
22
Something was very, very wrong.
Natalie’s heart hammered against her breastbone, her fingers itching to reach for Jonah. His entire demeanor had one-eightied in less than a breath, from the titanium stiffness now commandeering his shoulders and spine to the clinical chill that had replaced the happiness in his voice.
“Yes, I am,” he said, his eyes focused straight ahead even though he didn’t seem to see a thing. “I understand. When was he brought in?” Another pause. “And you’re taking him to CT right now? Okay, good. Have the radiologist call me at this number as soon as the scans are up. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Natalie asked as soon as Jonah lowered the phone. He looked at her, his brilliant, blue eyes loaded with so much emotion that, for a split second, she couldn’t breathe.
But then the emotion disappeared, as surely as if he’d slammed a steel door over it to lock it out. “My father was brought in to the ED at Saint Elizabeth’s about fifteen minutes ago. The doctor didn’t have a lot of details. He’s altered, but the staff at the assisted living facility insisted they call me immediately. It”—Jonah paused, but his tone remained flat and unchanged—“looks like he might’ve had a stroke.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. “Okay.” A thousand medical questions crashed through Natalie’s brain, each of them screaming to be asked. She obliged none of them. “Come on,” she said instead, threading her arm through Jonah’s and starting to walk briskly toward the attendings’ lounge, which was thankfully on the same floor of the building as the oncology unit they’d been standing in front of. They made the trip quickly enough, Natalie’s heart pressing faster against her ears as she caught sight of Tess looking at them in wide-eyed surprise from the couch.
“Hey, Tess. Can you do me a huge favor?” No time to fuck around with pleasantries, but if anyone would get that, it was Tess. “Can you find Langston and tell him Jonah and I have to take care of a personal emergency? Boldin is on my service, and Vasquez”—she looked at Jonah, who nodded absently in confirmation—“is on Jonah’s. They should both be up to speed on surgical patients.”
“You got it,” Tess said, her feet already in motion. She slowed for the briefest of seconds, just long enough to shoot an empathetic glance at Jonah and a knowing nod at Natalie before she disappeared through the door.
“Okay,” Natalie said softly, reaching for the handle to her locker. “We can stop by the apartment to grab some things on our way out of town, or we can go directly and figure it out once we get to Charleston. It’s entirely up to you.”
Finally, Jonah found his voice. “Nat, you don’t—”
“I do.” Turning to look at him, she grabbed both of his hands, not really giving a shit that anyone could walk in and potentially see them. He needed her. She would damn well be here, just as he’d been there for her when she’d needed him. “You can’t get updates and drive at the same time, and it’s a three-hour trip. You need to focus on this.” She let go of his fingers to press one hand over his chest, the rapid thump-thump-thump of his heart pressing back. “So let me focus on you. Okay?”
The pause that followed was like an electric charge, the magnetic force of it a living, breathing thing.
Let me in. Please, let me in.
Finally, Jonah nodded, his voice quiet and his expression unreadable. “Okay,” he said.
But as Natalie lowered her hand and began to change out of her scrubs, she couldn’t tell if that magnetic force had pulled them together or yanked them apart.
SAINT ELIZABETH’S HOSPITAL was a beautiful building, all stately lines and Southern charm. The details registered in Natalie’s brain—the elegant brickwork set off by just enough glass to lend a modern air to the place, the tidy landscaping that was flawless despite the chill of late December. She didn’t really see them, though, other than to recognize that they did, indeed, exist. As she put the Lexus in park and quieted the engine, the only thing that truly registered was Jonah.
He sat beside her, staring through the windshield and into the dusky shadows surrounding the brightly lit hospital. Natalie had done her best to read him in an effort to do what he needed, fully prepared to provide solace or take care of details or, hell, dance an Irish jig if it would help. And yet, Jonah had been nearly impossible to decipher, answering her questions in polite yeses and nos, holding her hand when she’d offered it but not seeking it out when she didn’t. She knew he was likely still in shock and trying to process—God, they saw it all the time with both patients and their families.
Still, Jonah had been so quiet on the drive (which Natalie had made as swiftly as possible without committing a felony—thank you, GPS). The only non-yes/no words he’d uttered were when he’d spoken to both the radiologist and th
e head of neurology at Saint Elizabeth’s, then when he’d relayed the scant clips of information to her upon ending the calls.
Yes, the diagnosis was that his father had suffered a stroke. No, they didn’t know how much time had elapsed between the onset of symptoms and when his neighbor and a nurse from the facility where he lived had found him on his kitchen floor and called nine-one-one. Yes, that meant they’d likely lost critical time. No, his father hadn’t been a candidate for tPA as a result. Yes, he was still unconscious.
No, there was no guarantee he’d ever wake up.
“You ready to go in?” Natalie asked, and Jonah inhaled slowly, as if unfolding himself from a dream.
“Yeah.” His nod was clipped, his voice perfectly even. “Dr. Aronson is the neurologist. He said to come directly up to the third floor and have him paged when we arrived.”
“Okay.” They both got out of the car and headed inside the hospital, navigating their way to the third floor easily enough. A large nurses’ station stood to the right of the elevators, and although it was brightly lit and festively decorated with all manner of sparkly green garland and red and white poinsettia flowers, it was also unstaffed.
“I can go find someone, if you want—”
Natalie’s request was cut short by a kind-looking woman who looked to be in her sixties, wearing a soft pink sweater and a curious expression. “Pardon me. I don’t mean to intrude. But you’re here for Kenneth Sheridan, aren’t you?”
Shock bounced through Natalie, and Jonah nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m—”
“His son, Jonah,” the woman said, her Southern accent hugging the words as warmly as her smile. “Of course you are. You look just as handsome as your picture.”
“I’m sorry?” Jonah asked, clearly as surprised as Natalie was.
The woman pressed a hand to the front of her sweater. “Oh, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. I do apologize. I’m Vivian. Your father’s neighbor from across the hall.”
Better Than Me (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Page 22