Page 65 of Doctor Second Chance

I can sense a shift in Shep's demeanor as his hands gently grip my waist.

“I can do business better than I can do operating.”

“I can’t believe that. But seriously, there is something I want to talk to you about," he says, his tone suddenly more serious.

I lean back, studying his face. Those stormy blue eyes that usually dance with mischief are now clouded with something else. Concern? Apprehension? It's hard to read.

"Uh oh," I tease, trying to lighten the mood. "You're giving me your serious doctor face. Should I be worried?"

Shep's lips quirk up slightly, so I'm not too alarmed yet. "No, no. Nothing to worry about. Just something we should discuss."

I nod, sensing this isn't the time for jokes. Reluctantly, I slide off his lap and perch on the edge of my hospital bed, my legs dangling over the side. The thin mattress dips beneath me, a stark reminder of where we are and all that's happened.

"Okay, Dr. Duncan," I say, folding my hands in my lap. "I'm all ears."

Shep leans forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. He takes a deep breath, and I find myself holding mine, waiting for whatever bombshell he's about to drop.

"Charlie stopped me after surgery today. He had an unusual request."

My heart skips a beat. "Oh, yeah? What kind of request?"

"It's about you, actually," Shep says, his voice gentle. "The hospital is at full capacity, and they're pressuring Charlie to free up some beds. He says you're ready for rehab, but..."

"But what?" I prompt, leaning forward.

"There aren't any open rehab beds within a hundred-mile radius," Shep explains. "Charlie doesn't want to fully release you yet, given your recent bout with sepsis and the need for continued antibiotics and therapy."

I nod slowly, trying to process this information. "So what does that mean for me?"

Shep clears his throat and shifts in the chair. He runs his hand through his thick, dark hair, a gesture I've come to recognize as a sign of nervousness for him. "Charlie asked if I'd be willing to have you stay at my place again for another week or two. It would be like a hybrid halfway discharge. You'd continue your outpatient therapy here at UAB, and Charlie can see you a couple of times before final release from his care."

My breath catches in my throat. Stay at Shep's place? For weeks? My mind races with the implications. The last time that happened, I almost died. But, then again, he is the reason I didn't.

Not to mention, if I have to be stuck here, playing a little house doesn't sound too bad. There are certainly worse scenarios that I could imagine.

"Interesting. Last time, it was kind of a fluke situation, but he actually asked you if you would do it. Hmm. It's an interesting proposition, for sure."

"I told Charlie I needed to talk to you first," Shep continues, his eyes searching mine. "I wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the idea before I gave him an answer."

The first time he offered me a room in his house, we hadn't slept together yet. This time, the cat's out of the bag, pun intended. The stakes are definitely higher.

I sit there, stunned a bit into silence.

"Not that I'm against it, but did he say what the alternative is? Like, am I being kicked out of the hospital?"

"We didn't discuss it, but I imagine they would transfer you to one of the rehabs, which is a good way out of the city. He would probably consult with an on-site doctor and keep up with your progress that way. Your antibiotics can be finished at rehab."

"Let me explain my reticence."

"No explanation needed," he starts, but I cut him off with my open palm outstretched.

"Please. I'd like to say this. We have been kind of acting on pure emotion and raw desire. If we both agree to do this, I propose we have a real conversation. So we both know what exactly we are doing and what expectations are on both sides."

"I think that is an excellent idea." He seems genuinely open to the idea of talking.

"So, are we doing it?"

"Let's do it. I'd love to get more time with you than just a few visits here and there. And late nights sneaking in and out of your room," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

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