Page 20 of Dr. Fellow

“Bathroom’s that way,” I jerk my chin toward the back of the house. There’s only one, so she can’t miss it. “Towels are in the cabinet under the sink.”

She simply swallows and nods, heading down the hallway without another word.

Chapter 9

Morgan

It turns out that Walker only lives a block away from my rental. His place is surrounded by two larger renovations which dwarf his white craftsman-style home. Because of the neighborhood’s proximity to Piedmont Park, the property values for the land alone are insane, and investors are beginning to flip the quaint original homes into McMansions that ruin the vibe of the neighborhood.

It’s kind of funny, really, that a huge, broody man lives in this tiny two-bedroom house, and it honestly makes me wonder how he ended up here when most residents live in apartments or condos closer to the hospital.

And while I’ll never admit this to him, I’m glad I came over. Seeing him after a day like today made me instantly feel better because he may intimidate the hell out of me, but that feeling also reminds me that I’m alive. That I can stop trying so hard and just let go.

So I do . . . just not in front of him.

I drop down to the floor of the porcelain tub, allowing myself to finally process the emotions of the day. The tears begin to stream down my face and mix with the constant cascade of scalding water. At first, they are a release of pent-up frustration about my apartment, but they quickly turn into an emotional extrication of the trauma I witnessed melded together with everything I’ve held inside for too long.

Because my patient was bleeding out, we hung several units of blood to help with the shock and hopefully control the situation until we could find a way to get the patient to the trauma hospital. The problem, though, wasn’t the blood loss. It was the heart. Blood couldn’t circulate through the body effectively, so backed up into the lungs and made breathing difficult.

Once the patient’s oxygen dropped to dangerous limits, the respiratory team was there to intubate. The tube allowed for some momentary relief, but the damage had already been done. We were losing him, and the only thing I was told that I could do was control the symptoms and provide comfort care.

Obviously, I didn’t accept that answer.

I called everyone I could think of to get a second opinion—our charge nurse, another ER doctor, the cardio team. I was so desperate that I even tried calling Parker to see if he would operate, but the jerkoff refused and said something about a specialized set of skills for that procedure. It still makes no sense to me because I feel like all surgeons should know how to control excessive bleeding, but what do I know—I’m just a nurse.

It felt like I was searching for a solution that didn’t exist, and the only thing I could do was sit there feeling helpless while I waited for the patient to code. When he finally did, we spent an hour performing CPR with the wife sobbing in our periphery until time of death was called.

There was nothing more that we could do.

I don’t know how long I sit in the shower and sob, thinking about how I wish I could have done something for the man today. And how lonely this job can be. And how much I needed this release of emotion.

I cling to my legs, burying my face in my knees as I let it all out, losing sense of everything other than the emotions that I’m finally letting go. I can hear my wailing, but I can’t bring myself to care because I’m letting the water wash everything away. The frustration, the guilt, the pain—they all become lighter with each sob until I feel a set of strong hands wrap around my shoulders.

The initial touch sends a jolt of surprise through my body, reorienting me to the fact that I’m not in the safety of my own home—I’m in the shower of a doctor I barely know, driving up his water bill and embarrassing myself.

Instinctively, I yelp and go rigid. Not because he’s seeing me naked, but because I’ve never let anyone see me cry before. I feel vulnerable and humiliated, and it only makes the tears come faster.

But before I can run away, Walker rubs his fingers along my upper arms soothingly. “Shhhh. It’s okay, little devil. I’ve got you.”

His voice is soft, a stark contrast to the firmness that he uses with everyone else, and his words send a shudder of longing through me.

I’m not sure how to react because I’ve always prided myself on being strong, independent, and untouchable—the kind of woman who doesn’t need anyone other than herself. But I didn’t realize how exhausting it was to be alone until I needed someone tonight. So even though my instincts are telling me to protect myself, I lean back and allow him to pull me against his chest.

Walker wraps me in his arms, shielding my body from the hot water. His fully-clothed body surrounds mine, protecting me both physically and emotionally in a way that feels so at odds with every other interaction that we’ve had.

Normally there’s a tide of lust-filled tension between us, but there’s nothing sexual about what’s happening right now, and the tenderness in his touch as he strokes my arm with his thumb makes me cry even more. I have no idea how he knew I needed this, or that I was in here making a fool of myself, but somehow he did—somehow he knows me better than I know myself.

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur once I finally catch my breath and the tears begin to subside. I shudder, more from embarrassment than from the chill of the water still beating rhythmically on our legs. “I didn’t realize—”

Walker cuts me off, his voice raspy, “Don’t apologize. I’ve been here before too.” He lets out a half-chuckle that vibrates his chest against my back. “In this exact spot actually.”

His admission surprises me, but I don’t dare look back at him. It’s not that I don’t expect him to have feelings, but he seems so impenetrable. So closed off. So . . . tormented. And while it shocks me that he’s broken down like this, it shocks me more that he’s admitting it.

Every interaction we’ve had has been filled with flirty banter, with pushing each other back and forth until one of us gives in. It was purely entertainment to me, seeing how far I could go, because I thought he was just like every other doctor I’ve met—overconfident and obnoxious. But every other doctor I’ve met wouldn’t get into the shower fully clothed to comfort me. And I wouldn’t have let them.

Chapter 10

Walker

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