Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Gaines
I’m not on duty but everyone in this ED knows that they need to get the hell out of my way when I hear someone in distress.
I’m racing around Jordan Whitman as he sprints toward the waiting area.
I easily beat him.
People are rushing toward where Dr. Otis Carnbet is on his feet. He’s my mentor and one of my favorite people on this earth. His wife, Irene, is currently in an exam room. She was brought in my ambulance just as I was leaving the hospital. I stuck around to add my two cents to Dr. Whitman’s diagnosis.
“I’m fine,” a soft, very familiar, voice says from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. “I’m not having a heart attack.”
I say excuse me twice, before I push my way through the crowd to get to where Otis is standing.
I’m crouching immediately when I see who he’s pointing at.
My Eloise.
“What’s going on?” I toss that question out there, hoping someone is playing some sick, twisted joke on me.
Otis is the first to speak, “She’s experiencing radiating pain from her stomach through her chest. She’s flushed. Her resting heart rate is one hundred and twenty five.”
Eloise looks up at him. “You were taking my pulse when you were holding my hand?”
Otis shrugs. “It’s a trick of the trade.”
She smiles. “I’m not having a heart attack.”
He’s right about her looking flushed, so I rest a hand against her forehead. “You’re not fevered.”
“Did you forget everything I taught you?” Otis laughs. “I didn’t say she had the flu, son. I said it was a heart attack.”
I shake my head and smile. “She’s not having a heart attack.”
“How do you know that?” he questions. “Do you have a crystal ball?”
The people who had gathered around us disperse to reclaim their seats. Jordan motions for Otis to join him. “Irene can see you now.”
“She can see me whenever she damn well pleases,” he responds in a gruff tone as he sets off with his cane. “Save that young woman’s life, Dr. Morgan. Don’t make me look bad.”
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I take a seat next to Eloise. “What’s going on with your chest?”
She leans close to speak in a whispered tone. “You’ve seen it. It’s pretty special, isn’t it?”
She has no idea how fucking beautiful her tits and the rest of her are, but I’m not in the mood to joke with her.
“Dr. Carnbet said you’re experiencing chest pain.”
“For a split second. It disappeared like that.” She punctuates that with a snap of her fingers. “I’m hungry for real food, and I’m super tired. I think that’s all it is.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?”
“Just ice cream.”
I push to stand. “Give me ten minutes to check on Dr. Carnbet’s wife, and then I’m taking you home.”
“You don’t have to do that.” She stands too. “I can get home on my own.”
“We’re not going to your apartment, lamb,” I correct her. “I’m taking you home with me.”
“Humor me.”
Eloise shakes her head. “I’m not letting you take my blood pressure, Gaines.”
“What if I strip?” I try to strike a bargain. “Have you ever had your blood pressure taken by a nude doctor?”
“You do not want me to answer that.”
For fuck’s sake.
I can’t tell if she’s joking or not, so I chuckle, hoping she joins in. She doesn’t.
“Eloise?”
Her hands drop to her hips as she surveys the interior of my apartment. I’m proud of the fact that I own it, but beyond that it’s a barren space that has only ever functioned as a cocoon of sorts for me.
It’s the barrier between my job and me. I seek solace here. I don’t fuck here. I rarely eat here, but I always sleep here.
“Yes,” she answers. “Did you have another question, Dr. Morgan?”
I drop the bags in my hands on the couch, and go to where she’s still standing in the foyer of my apartment. I curl my index fingers through two of the loops on her jeans so I can tug her closer.
A smile starts on her lips but she stops it.
“Kiss me,” I say in a hoarse tone.
She greedily accepts that challenge. Cupping her hands around my face she gifts me with a slow, sensual kiss.
I swear to fuck that is all the fuel I need to get through my days.
“I’m fine,” she insists. “You can do that magic trick Irene’s husband did and take my pulse when I’m not aware.”
“He’s going to fucking love it when I tell him that you refer to him as Irene’s husband.”
“That’s who he is,” she says with a soft smile. “He told me it’s his full-time job and he loves it.”
“He loves her.”
“Will she be all right?” Concern taints her tone. “I know you can’t share personal information, but she’ll survive, right?”
“She will,” I say that with confidence, since what brought Irene to the ED tonight was remedied with a subtle change to one of her heart medications.