Page 11 of Piece You Saved

He smells nicer than I’d expect a surgeon just out of surgery to smell. Clean, with a hint of something woodsy that could almost be cologne.

“While there are one or two doctors who married nurses in this hospital, I have no designs on the lovely Olivia,” he says as he continues his examination.

How in the hell did we get to talking about this?

He takes a step back, lowering his hands. “Everything feels good. Any blurriness or—”

“No,” I interrupt, recalling Simon’s list of questions from my last hospital stay. “I don’t have a concussion. Simon… I remember the things he asked me before, so I’m sure it’s not that.”

Harley nods once before he again lifts his hands as if for permission. “I need to check those bruises. May I?”

And after another pause, I nod.

He probes my sore areas quickly. It still hurts like hell. I bite my lip and peer over his shoulder, focusing on the open doorway and the luminous white squeaky-looking floors outside. I’m almost positive I hear Kade’s voice rise. Although I strain as I listen, his voice doesn’t come again.

Harley continues to probe my bruises while I try not to wince, and I think about what happened back at the house. I don’t remember Kade and Dariel bursting into the attic, yet they must have. If they were wolves before, when did they shift back to their human form? Dariel, especially. Does it mean he’s able to control his wolf now?

“All done,” Harley says, stepping back and recapturing my attention. “Nothing concerns me, but it would help to—”

“I don’t want scans,” I say in a rush. Just the thought of being inside one of those white claustrophobia-inducing tunnel-like scanners I’ve seen on TV is enough to make my throat tight. “I think I’m just bruised.”

And I wait, my muscles tense for him to push the issue.

Harley nods again as if he’d expected I would refuse. “I can wrap the area, but if the only discomfort you have is when you’re lifting your arm or when someone presses on the area, it won’t help like Tylenol will. If the pain travels or gets worse, we’ll need to do a scan, regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you.”

I nod. If things get worse, I’ll do a scan. If I can avoid it, then I’ll avoid it. The longer, the better.

After watching him peel his gloves off, I clear my throat. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “You weren’t to blame.”

“You didn’t let me finish. How did you know what I…”

Harley lifts his head and levels serious eyes on me. “I’ve been a doctor long enough to read the signs, Jane. Simon’s death wasn’t your fault. You have nothing to apologize for, least of all to me.”

He holds my gaze, and although I could break it, I don’t because he’s wrong. “If he hadn’t tried to help me, he would still be alive.”

A smile quirks Harley’s lips, surprising me. “If you knew Simon the way I did, you’d know there was no way you were leaving this hospital without his help. He was…” His voice trails off, and the smile fades. “A good man and an even better friend. He’s the reason I became a doctor.”

I flinch.

Guilt swarms me. It’s a swarm of angry bees buzzing around my head.

It’s your fault he’s dead. Harley says it isn’t, but we all know that isn’t true.

A soft tap on my nose startles me.

I stare at Harley, lifting my hand to rub the tip of my nose, only to wince when it pulls on my bruise. “You tapped my nose.”

His lips are still quirked in a smile. He turns back to his tray and peels off his other rubber glove. “Booped, Jane. Iboopedyour nose.”

With my nose wrinkled in confusion, I try to work him out. “Why?”

“Simon’s death doesn’t belong on your pretty head.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “So, youboopedme? What the hell kind of doctor are you?”

His body trembles, enough I know he must be laughing, though no sound escapes his lips. “A prodigy. And one who spent far too much time with his head in a book.”

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