Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Once we walked back into the hospital, I started talking to him all the way to the cafeteria. I’d learned a lot through my first year of residency in the ER, especially how to approach kids in similar fucked-up situations I’d been raised in.
There was something different about this boy. I couldn’t resist the urge to help him. I’d pumped his mom’s stomach too many times to know no good came out of his home.
Hoping I could get through to him, I explained myself, “I’ve been the doctor on call when you’ve brought your mom in before. Seen her the last few times in fact.”
“She gonna be alright?”
“To be completely honest with you, she got lucky this time. Overdosing on alcohol caused her seizure. I pumped her stomach again, like I have every time she’s been in my ER. You know the drill by now, I’m sure. I want to keep her overnight for observation and get some fluids in her. She’s severely dehydrated right now. How long has she been an alcoholic? From the looks of her liver, it’s been a few years.”
“Somethin’ like that.”
We stepped into the elevator and I watched him carefully, contemplating what I was going to say. “It’s only a matter of time before her liver starts giving out on her, Noah. Is there anyone who can help you get her into a rehab?”
“She won’t go,” he stated, hitting the fourth-floor button to the cafeteria.
“You’ve tried to talk to her about it then?”
“Listen, Aiden, yeah?”
I slowly nodded.
“No need for this heart-to-heart, cut the bullshit. She gonna be alright or not?”
“For now, yes. For the future, no.”
He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. Looking like he wanted to tear it the fuck out. Making me recall how many times I’d felt the same way.
“She needs help, Noah. You can’t keep enabling her.”
“Enablin’ her?” he growled in a throaty roar. “Don’t talk like you know shit ’bout me. You don’t know what I do for her. She’s my mother, and half the time I want to ring her fuckin’ neck for drinkin’ herself into a coma. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? Huh? I can’t make her stop drinkin’, and if you think I’m just gonna let her drink herself into the ground then”—he nodded at me—“fuck you. I’ll take her to another damn hospital. Didn’t ask, and don’t need your shit on top of all the other bullshit I deal wit’ on the daily, Dr. Pierce.”
I jerked back as the elevators dinged open, and it was the first time I took a good look at him. From his tattoos to the cut he was wearing on his back.
I’d lived with a few motorcycle clubs as a child, they were all the same.
Bad.
Especially, Devil’s Rejects.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, sixteen years old… how was he already wearing a prospects vest?
“You’re right,” I acknowledged. “I don’t know shit about you. What I do know is that you keep bringing your mother into my ER to get her stomach pumped, and one day her liver is going to stop working and you won’t have a mother to bring into my ER anymore.”
He grimaced. It was quick, but I saw it.
I hated that he was trying to be so fucking strong, when what he needed was for someone to be strong for him.
“I’m trying to help you, it’s my job,” I affirmed in a sincere tone. “I know what it’s like to grow up too fast. I’ve been in your combat boots, but I chose another life.” I didn’t hesitate, eyeing the 1% patch on his cut before bringing my stare to meet his again. “And you can too, Noah.”
It was his turn to get a good look at me, instantly shifting his eyes to the three crosses tattooed on my neck that I was trying to cover with my white doctor coat and stethoscope. He recognized the symbolism behind my tattoos, most people who grew up like we did didn’t bat an eye on the meaning.
They understood. Exactly like he did.
He took one last look at me and backed out of the elevator, leaving me in there. Shaking his head, he scoffed out what I’d been thinking all along, “Not when your old man is the one holdin’ the gun to your head, ready to pull the fuckin’ trigger.”
I jerked back again, instantly understanding who his father was. Putting two and two together seeing Jameson on his cut and his mom’s chart. I hated the reaction I gave him, but for some reason…
It still fucking hurt him coming from me.
“Fuck’s sake, you really are old. Are you reminiscin’ right now?” Noah questioned, bringing me back to the present.
“You’re still such a fuckin’ shit.”
He shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”
I joked, “I should have just ignored you in the hospital.”