Page 3 of Sinful in Scrubs

“You used your body to compress her. Was that combat training?”

“Combat training?” I asked, shocked. “No. I haven’t been in the military. Have you?”

He nodded slowly. “Retired Army. Field surgeon. That kind of quick outside of the box thinking is what saves lives.”

“We have to be able to come up with nontraditional solutions in trauma care, don’t we?”

He chuckled. “We’re more creative than people give us credit for.”

“Is that what you call it? Creativity? Most people would call it detachment. I was walking around with that kid’s blood on me and the head nurse had to yell at me to go change. I don’t think she’d call me creative.”

“No, she calls you Doctor. If you need someone to talk to about our creative ways, I know we just met, but I have years of interesting ways of dealing with what we do. If you ever want to chat.”

My gut twisted as his words felt too much like he was starting to ask me out. I was not in a dating phase of my life at the moment. And I didn’t think talking trauma response with some guy who had just seen my nipples was the best idea at the moment.

“I’ll keep your offer in mind,” I said as the kindest brush-off I could come up with at the moment.

2

MARCUS

Nipples.

I got thrown into the deep end of a trauma case my first shift at Manhattan Memorial, and all I could think of as I walked away from the hospital was nipples. More precisely, the dark, pert nipples of Dr. Emma Chen.

There were more pressing concerns that should have occupied my mind, such as why hadn’t there been a better triage intake of incoming cases, or would I be walking into a cage match between the kids when I got home? Instead, all I could seem to focus on was that delicate bra and the way the black lace framed and called attention to Emma’s nipples. They were small, tight, and dark. Maybe that was the fabric of her undergarment, but there was no hint of pink. Pink. Blair’s nipples had been pink.

I couldn’t believe I was actually thinking about another woman’s nipples. But as hard as I tried to bring Blair’s lovely breasts to mind, I could only remember her scars. And the only nipples I could see in my mind belonged to Emma Chen.

A pang of guilt lanced through me as I headed up the stairs to the brownstone. I hadn’t thought of any woman other than Blair for years. It was weird and invasive. How dare my memories of my late wife give way to thoughts of another woman? I wasn’t ready for that.

“Dad!” Jason yelled as he bolted out of the den, nearly crashing into me as he slid across the hard wood floor in his socks. “Tell Lily it’s my turn.”

“You little kiss-ass!” My daughter’s voice rang through our new home after her brother. “Whining to Dad the second he gets home. Don’t believe him, he’s been on the PS5 since school got out. It’s my turn and the little shit knows it!”

“Lily, I would appreciate it if you stopped calling your brother names,” I said as I hung my jacket on the coat tree by the door.

“She’s been bitchy all afternoon. She must be on her period,” Jacob sneered.

“Enough!” I barked.

“You do not talk about your sister that way. As a matter of fact, you don’t talk about women like that ever.”

Jacob wilted, dropping his shoulders and making a guppy-fish motion with his mouth. “She’s such a bi?—”

“What did I just say?” I snapped.

Jacob flopped his arms around, shaking his torso to make the movement. He let out a defeated sigh. “She’s so mean and always telling me what to do.”

The fights between the kids would wax and wane like the phases of the moon. We were due for a physical altercation soon. The move hadn’t been easy on them. Hell, the entire situation hadn’t been easy on them.

First they lost their mother, then they got me. I was aware that my time in the military kept me away from my family, only I hadn’t realized what the damage was. Blair had always been there keeping us together, keeping the kids in check, making sure they wrote to me when I was deployed.

Somehow, I thought when I returned home and stayed, we would have some picture perfect life. Blair had found us a nice home. The kids liked the schools they were in, and there were a few different hospitals within an hour’s drive where I should have been able to get a position.

Well, that picture perfect life lasted three months before her diagnosis came in and everything went to hell. It was clear right away that I struggled at managing the kids. I got it, I did. Dad came home and they were going to lose Mom. Maybe if I had stayed away, she wouldn’t have gotten sick.

It wasn’t logical, but it was the thought process of the kids. It took a year of family therapy to realize they blamed me. It took another year to gain their trust, and then I went and ruined it all by accepting a position that uprooted them and moved us all from small town life into the heart of New York City.

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