Page 29 of Bad Medicine
Taking out my stethoscope, I pressed it to his chest and had a listen, frowning at what I heard there.
“Alright, Jacob. We’re going to get you fixed right up, okay?”
He nodded, his eyes wide and frightened. Even though he was doing his best to hold it together, I could see he was close to breaking down. Drawing Candice away, I gave her instructions for administering oxygen and ordered blood work to assess the situation further.
“Has anyone been able to contact his parents yet?” I asked.
“No. They are having trouble reaching a few kid’s families.”
I stared around the ER, the beds full of teenagers, and sighed.
“Well, make sure you let me know when they get here, okay?” I gave her another smile and then headed back to the desk for another chart.
That was how the next hour passed, moving from bed to bed, assessing and reacting, taking each situation as it came, and doing my best to keep all the balls in the air.
“Hey, Doc.”
I had honestly completely forgotten that he was coming. I was so caught up with work that I hadn’t really looked at a clock in hours.
And the part of me that was dismissive—the cynical part that thought I was not worth coming for—was actually surprised he had shown up.
But the rest of me? That part was honestly glad he had, and that part was the part that was dangerous.
Spinning, I blinked at how close he was standing, needing to tilt my head back a little to meet his eyes.
He looked absolutely gorgeous, and I had to work hard to keep my mouth from opening in shock.
So far, I had seen Rocco dressed in what I secretly referred to as “crime lord casual,” dark wash jeans, simple button down shirts, and motorcycle boots.
And I had liked the look on him.
A lot.
But tonight, Rocco was anything but casual, and it had me all kinds of worked up.
He stood before me in black dress pants, pressed and expensive looking, with a sleek black button-down shirt, tucked in and looking tidy. A black suit jacket hung off his shoulders like he’d had it custom made, charcoal gray pocket square perfectly folded out front. His dark hair was freshly cut, and the two-day scruff on his chin had me thinking all kinds of thoughts that were better left for private.
I ran my gaze over him, blinking slowly when I reached the open neck of the dress shirt, not a tie in sight.
Rocco looked amazing. He had somehow gone from a ten to a twelve, and I was more than a little self-conscious about my thirteen hours’ old messy bun and baggy scrubs.
“Rocco,” I started, running a hand over my hair and grimacing at the greasy feel of it. “I’m sorry. I seem to have lost track of the time.”
“It’s all good, Doc. I’ll wait here while you grab your stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to go tonight.” Gesturing over my shoulder to the main floor or the emergency department, indicating the chaos that was visible everywhere, I explained. “There was an accident. School bus. Several teenagers were injured, some pretty badly.” It had been pure mayhem, actually. With some of the students still unable to reach any of their families, we were scrambling to provide treatment to kids with no guardian present. “It’s kind of all hands on deck right now.”
Rocco frowned, looking around the space, seeing the full beds and the anxious faces on the kids. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my coat, suddenly anxious myself.
Was this the point where he gave up? Granted, I hadn’t exactly been receptive to his blunt advances, but I could admit—even if only to myself—that it had felt good to be actively pursued again. I had spent so much of the last five or six years in survival mode; it had been a long time since I had experienced the thrill of feeling desired by a man.
And not the kind of desire I got from guys like Dr. Edwards; the kind that left a bad taste in your mouth and a slimy feeling crawling on your skin.
Even if Rocco’s interest in me was only temporary, I had been enjoying the attention.
And that fact made me feel incredibly shallow.
After a long few moments of gazing around my ER, Rocco looked at me, all traces of his usual cocky swagger gone. In their place was a seriousness I hadn’t realized he possessed.
