Page 4 of The Chance

She darted a look at him.

One filled with fear and uncertainty. Like she was just… waiting for him to pounce on her, maybe?

She straightened her shirt sleeve. It fell to her elbow. She always wore longer sleeves; he’d noticed that before. He’d just thought icicles were cold creatures and chalked it up to that.

Now he understood why. Any doctor worth their salt would recognize those scars for what they were. And there were some who would gossip about how she’d gotten them. Maliciously. She was in a position of authority—people would be vindictive.

Her shirt sleeve brushed against the first of the half dozen scars. Only two were visible below the elbow. They were enough for him to know. Someone had seriously hurt her before. Held her down and burned her. Abused her.

Those were cigarette burn scars.

The scars were old. Faded. He had studied them while stitching her arm. She had known he was, as well. Maybe thatwas part of the uncertainty now. She should know he would not ever share her secrets. He would not do that. Ever.

But those nervous little glances she kept sending him shot straight through him.

Until it clicked.

This woman was afraid.

It slammed into him like a ton of bricks.

Seriously afraid. Terrified. Aubrey wasafraidof him. Why?

He didn’t want her to ever be afraid of him again.

4

Her arm stung.Even after three days. Aubrey was going to have to check it again. The amoxicillin script Guthrie had chased her down at the hospital the next afternoon and given her wasn’t quite working. She’d given it several days, but she knew all the signs.

Her arm was infected. And not getting better. She just needed to confirm it. But twisting her arm in that type of movement just wasn’t going to happen. And while Genny could definitely tell her the basics of what it looked like, her friend couldn’t prescribe a stronger medication.

That meant… Dr. Guthrie “Gorgeous” Hiller or Dr. “Hot Hands” Fields—as they were known around certain circles at the hospital. They already knew what had happened—and they wouldn’t ask questions. Hopefully.

She considered asking her boss, Caine.

She seriously considered it… except that he would have questions about what had happened in the first place. And that beautiful man had a known temper. The last thing she needed was Caine Alvaro coming down hard on the man responsible. That would just set the fires of gossip flying in every direction.

The hospital would be a nightmare for her after that, especially if people thought Caine was riding to her rescue specifically. She had to be able to handle the job, perceived to be able to, or she would lose every bit of authority and respect she had. And with the rumors going around about her and Caine being more than just friends—and him a married man and head of the hospital—no, she had to be really careful right now. The rumors were getting worse.

The latest was that Caine’s wife, Nikkie Jean, was getting a restraining order—against Aubrey. Aubrey had apparently been stalking Caine lately.

Aubrey had fifteen minutes left on her lunch break. She would track down either Dr. Hiller or Dr. Fields. That was probably her best bet. They already knew what had happened. And so far, had kept that knowledge to themselves.

But neither of those men were anywhere to be found. She had to settle for finding a quiet moment in the women’s restroom in front of the mirror. She’d track one of them down later. It wouldn’t take them long to look at her arm and prescribe an injection of something a bit stronger. But the thought ofaskingsomeone for help…

It was a hang-up, and she knew it.

Aubrey was used to doing what needed to be done. To taking care of herself—and Ayla.

She had her shirt half-off and was trying to twist around when the restroom door opened.

Her breath caught. Mandy and her pals were known to frequent this hall restroom. But the one at the other end of the ED was far busier. She’d weighed her options, and this one was the safest.

It didn’t feel so safe now.

She tensed, seeing the woman who stood there. “Dr. Alvaro.”

“Please, you are my husband’s baby-sitter-slash-dragon tamer when I’m not with him. And I know what people are saying lately. You deserve medals and Kevlar armor for dealing with that. And probably occasionally, a shrine built in your honor. I do know my man very well, after all. It’s Nikkie Jean.”

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