Forbidden Doctor - R. S. Elliot Page 0,52

breath on the other side of the phone.

“Ade, what’s wrong? Is something wrong?” she asked immediately.

“She’s—she’s broken,” I groaned, and then I couldn’t speak anymore.

I hung up and it didn’t even occur to me how cryptic that sounded. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and tried to breathe. I rocked back on my heels and counted to ten, but my brain was pushing through with horrible thoughts.

“One..”

She’s probably dying out there.

“Two…”

She walked home; you know why she was walking.

“Three…”

It’s all your fault because you turned her away.

“Four…”

If you had done something...

“Five…”

If you had done anything...

“Six…”

All you had to say were three words.

“Seven…”

All you had to do was tell the truth.

“Eight…”

And you couldn’t.

“Nine…”

Say it, Adrian. Stop being a coward.”

“I love you,” I whispered to the air, instead of finishing my counting.

My hands shook—my whole body shook. Everything hurt from the mere tension of not knowing what I would find when I walked back to the ER. What I was sure of, though, was that I wasn’t going home. If I could help it, I would never leave her side again.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door and, before I could reply to whoever it was, a stricken looking Dr. Hale was opening the door and apologizing profusely as he took in the way I was curled next to the toilet, hunched and shaking. His own eyes were rimmed with red, and I could tell that he’d been crying.

“What right do you have to cry over her?” I snapped, standing up. “Who the fuck are you to be crying?”

If I had been rational, I might have realized that aside from being her fling, he had also been her classmate, maybe even her friend.

As it was, I wasn’t rational, and all I saw was someone that didn’t deserve her, crying when he should have been doing his best to fix her, to make her better, to—

“They need you in the ER,” he whispered. “I know you clocked off and were supposed to be going home, but they need you because she’s—she’s—”

“She’s going to die?” I asked, like I was daring him to say it, like I was wondering if he’d suggest something so sacrilegious.

Dr. Hale just closed his eyes.

I could do this. I could keep it together for Stevie. I had to, unless I wanted to see her rolled away in a body bag.

“Call up for an OR to be prepped. I want my usual team. If they’re at home or asleep, ask them if they can come in. If they can’t, I want to know who they’d trust with the love of their life.”

Dr. Hale nodded, opening his eyes finally. I wiped a hand down my own face and stilled my hands by clasping them.

“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”

I spent the next twenty minutes watching Stevie be prepped.

In the time I had been in the bathroom, it looked like they’d splinted her every which way. I’d have Jonah with me in the OR, but it was of little consolation. He would be working on her legs, her poor legs, which had to be fixed or risk needing an amputation. I wondered what would have happened if I’d just told her the truth. Would we be cuddling in the postcoital bliss of her small apartment? Would I be wondering how damn lucky I was to have her in my arms?

Would she be okay?

She needed to be okay. Melissa had been right. There was no point in anything without the one person I loved more than life itself. I wondered how she’d struggled through years of that emotion, of watching Harry live his life, be hurt by its toils, and get back up—without her help.

“Sir—sir, um, Dr. Price.” A voice came from behind me.

I turned and Jonah’s precious protege, Lehaney, stood there. His eyes were wide with terror, but he had a look of determination, like he knew I was likely going to deny whatever it was he wanted to ask me.

“I know this isn’t a case where you’d usually assign an intern, but, um, sir, I would like to assist.”

I stared at him. I knew he was friends with Stevie, but could it have been more? Was Lehaney another of her suitors?

“And why would you like to be on this case?” I queried, trying to keep my voice calm and professorial.

Lehaney sighed and I wondered what dramatic speech he had prepared in the moments since he’d heard of Stevie’s injuries.

“She’s my best friend,” he muttered, “and I need to know that