Page 10 of Doctor Enemy

The cell phone is shoved back into the pocket of my scrubs, and then I step into the elevator. No one else joins me. It’s a quick ride down to the main lobby.

There are more people there. The waiting room at the side is packed full, and I’m sure that the left lobby is the same way.

My department doesn’t see quite as many cases as some of the others. Brain injuries aren’t a dime a dozen the way that a broken bone is. Nor are they nearly so frequent as a heart attack.

If we’re incredibly shorthanded, then they’ll call me in to help out the other departments. But I should be fine for the day.

I nod at the woman behind the front counter and then step out into the parking lot, making my way toward my sleek, red Shelby GT500.

The cold air helps. Being outside of Mercy General—that helps too.

I slide into the Mustang, running my palms over the dark leather of the steering wheel.

I pull in one breath, and then another, before backing out of my parking spot–it’s got my name on it, a nice shiny placard that got put up when I became the head of neuro–and heading for the main road.

The windows are rolled down, and the moment that I hit it, harsh, cold air slams into me full force. It stings my eyes and gives me a good excuse for the way that tears are starting to brim in the corner of my vision.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve lost a lot of patients over the years. It doesn’t matter that the moment Sawyer Green was brought into the operating room, I knew he had a piss poor chance of living.

And it doesn’t matter what I said to Lori.

I lost a patient today. A teenager. And it still cuts me deep.

I know that it’s cut her deep, too. You shouldn’t change careers just because you’re struck with grief over the loss of a life, but you do need to figure out how to keep it under control and out of the workplace.

For me, it’s long late drives, hitting up clubs on my evenings off, and finding pretty women to lose myself in.

The comfort of a stranger is much better than no comfort at all.

I’m not looking for another woman tonight, though. I’ve got too much of Lori on my mind. And too much of Sawyer, too.

No, tonight I’m just looking for a long drive through Seattle to help clear my mind.

Just a few hours where nothing exists but myself and the car.

It should help.

It’s got to.

Chapter four

Lori

It’salreadybeenaweek since Sawyer flatlined, but I still think about him constantly. I wonder if that’s something that will go away eventually.

It would be nice if I had someone to ask but… I’m not close with the head of my department. Shannon O’Brian is hard-knock, hard of heart, and no-nonsense. And the other doctors don’t have much time for a resident like myself.

My shoes come down hard against the tile floor. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I literally run into someone. My forehead bounces off chiseled pecs. “Sorry!”

Just my luck. As I look up I see Kurt's penetrating gray eyes. For a moment I'm lost. His short, well-groomed beard frames his jaw in the most appealing way. He's strong and tall, and his features mesmerize me against my will.

He settles his hands on my shoulders, steadying me. “You’re fine.”

Guilt flares up inside of me. I haven’t spoken to him since I demanded the paperwork on Sawyer. My own upset over losing a patient had me running off at the mouth. I should apologize, but I can’t bring myself to swallow my pride.

His hands linger on my shoulders, and I can feel the heat of his palms through the light cotton of my scrubs. Something about his touch is electric. Kurt looks amused. “Someone’s in a hurry.”

I brush his hands off me, instantly missing the contact. You know, like anidiot.

---