Just Good Friends (Cheap Thrills #5) - Mary B. Moore Page 0,82
my head jerk to the side to look at her. This time I ignored the pain as much as possible, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the machine burst into flames with how fast my heart rate was.
“Your blood pressure’s a bit too high, Mr. Evans,” the doctor warned. “Take some deep breaths and try to relax, or I’ll have to ask Miss Waite to leave the room.”
The fact he used her real name didn’t register, but not taking my eyes off her, I growled, “You even try to do that, and I’ll shove that machine up your ass. No offense, Doc, but my girl crying will always be a priority.” Then, turning my hand over so that the palm was facing the ceiling, I moved it all of two inches across the bed, indicating that I wanted hers.
Looking from it to the doctor, she reached over and gently laid her hand on top of mine. “Don’t be mean to him, honey. He’s only looking out for you.”
“I’ll apologize to him in a minute. What’s wrong, pretty girl?”
I’d never seen anyone look more tormented than she did at that moment, as steady rivers of tears fell down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault,” she croaked, sobbing silently. “He shot you because he was trying to get to me.”
Flashes of images struck me hearing those words, but not one of them made sense. The skeleton of the house, the land we’d bought, I was saying something to her on my knees and watching her eyes change color with the sun.
It was pretty damn romantic and idyllic, so how did it go to shit?
Then I remembered a bang and being hit in the shoulder by something.
Needing a moment alone with her to make sure she was okay, I tightened my grip on her hand and turned toward him. “I’m sorry for threatening your ass hole, Doc. Can you do what needs to be done so that I can have some time with Tamsin? I hate seeing her cry and her blaming herself for this when my job isn’t exactly risk-free…” I trailed off, watching as understanding filled his face.
“Of course, of course. My girlfriend’s the same. The second something happens, and we get hurt, they want to blame themselves for not stopping it while smothering you with attention. Some say it’s down to women having a maternal instinct, you know,” he said, getting out a foam strip and laying stuff out on a table he wheeled over from the side of the room.
“I’m not sure if that’s true, but they’re remarkably good at it. Then again, we have a lot of male nurses who are outstanding at looking after their patients, so who knows why. I say just go with it,” he advised me, half of his mouth tilting in a small smile. “They hate us being hurt, and if this is what it takes to help them through it—and what you’ve just gone through is by no means a small thing, so it’s understandable that Miss Waite is feeling this way—then it’s worth it. We’re equally as bad when the situations are reversed. Can you imagine if she was lying here instead of you?”
The machine started making some sort of rave music again, the beat and pitch incredibly obnoxious in the otherwise silent room. “I don’t even want to consider that ever being a possibility, Doc. She’s my world.”
Nodding, he went back to what he was doing, carefully raising the head of the bed, watching me for increased pain and stopping when it became clear I needed time to adjust. It took him longer than it should have to get me to a slightly higher position, but he was patient and watchful.
With every indication that I was hurting, Tamsin’s hand would shake, and at one point, she whimpered when I had to clench my eyes shut. I fucking hated it.
I hated that I was hurt, I hated that I couldn’t remember any of it, I hated that I was in pain. But I hated that she was crying and suffering at all even more.
Lowering the sheet so that it was pooled in my lap, he checked my side and nodded like what he saw was good.
“Amazingly enough, there’s very little bleeding coming from the wound here, much less than I would’ve expected,” he informed me, just as the door opened and a big breasted blonde came in wearing a scrub top that was a size too small for her. Seeing the