Page 16 of Can’t Fight This Feeling

I turn to face him. He’s an angry brick wall.

“It’s been a shit day.” I offer the lame excuse. Arthur doesn’t buy it. We’ve known each other for too long. He can see right through me.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you stressed to the breaking point. You’ve never taken it out on Marcy. Ever.” Arthur keeps his voice low, but it’s stern.

Words fail me. I stare into my glass.

“Whatever happened, she didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” I growl, causing the man beside us to glance over suspiciously.

Damn it. I stand and move toward the shadowed hallway. Arthur follows. The moment we’re alone, he crosses his arms.

“Then what the hell made you snap like that?”

I cradle the drink in one hand. My grip tightens as the earlier confrontation in the ER replays through my mind. “There was a patient today.” A dull ache forms at the base of my skull. “A woman. We suspected domestic abuse. But...”

“But she didn’t want help.” Arthur finishes the thought for me.

I clench my jaw and nod. “The girl was terrified. She was the same age as Marcy when...”

“Rob.” Arthur’s posture softens, and he rests his hand on my shoulder. “You did the best you could.”

“Did I?” My voice cracks. “She wouldn’t even answer the questions herself. The bastard stood there, cocky and smug, while I took care of her injuries. The ones he caused.”

“Do you have any proof he did it?”

“No.” I hang my head and collapse against the wall. “And when I got her alone for the CAT scan, she still wouldn’t talk.”

“I can’t imagine working in an environment where you’re put in that position.” Arthur leans against the wall beside me. “You offered. There’s nothing more you could have done.”

“I know. It’s just...”

“Marcy.”

“Yeah.” I rub my hand over my face. The image is burned into my brain. Every time a battered woman comes into my hospital, I see Marcy, broken and bleeding.

“The stress is too much, Rob. Maybe you should take a break. Step away from the intensity of working in the emergency room.”

“I can’t. It’s my calling.”

“Well, it’s killing you. If you keep burning yourself out like this, you’re gonna have a heart attack before you reach fifty.”

I scoff, but he’s right; the burden is overwhelming. “It’s all I have, Arthur. It’s my life.”

“I didn’t say give up medicine, but maybe you should consider alternate employment possibilities.” He pauses as though pondering those options. “You could easily start your own practice. Keep office hours. Take a vacation once in a while.”

Alone? No thanks. While his suggestion makes sense, it would leave me miserable. If I take away my work, the only thing I have is the gnawing ache for a woman who doesn’t want me. I’m fucking pathetic.

“Are you going to be okay for the wedding tomorrow morning?” Arthur’s question breaks through my mental fog.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

“You’d better not make my sister cry at my fucking wedding. I don’t care how long we’ve been friends. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

My body tenses at the undercurrent of his tone. He means it. “I promise I’ll be in a better mindset. I just need some rest.”

“Good.” He straightens and offers his hand. I take it. “Now, let’s go back and get some dessert.”

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