Office Grump: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“ICU, this is Nurse Becky. How can I help you?”

I take a deep breath. “I wanted an update on Marissa Quail’s condition.”

“Can I ask who’s calling? I need to make sure you’re on the approved list,” she says.

“Magnus Heron, her emergency contact.”

The clicking of computer keys fills the phone. Then the nurse sighs.

“She’s still in a coma. Stable. She could wake up any time.”

“But we flew in that surgeon overnight—”

“Right,” she says. “And that’s why she’s no worse off. Traumatic brain injuries are precarious. She sustained multiple direct blows to the skull. It could go either way right now, but we’re all rooting for her. I’d recommend coming in to visit.”

“And your visiting hours start at nine?” I ask, aware of Jordan’s eyes riveted to my face and his white knuckles from the grip he has on my couch pillow.

“That’s right.”

“In your experience, with comas...you’re thinking she could be there for a while?”

The nurse sighs again. “If she goes home, it’s not going to be for a while.”

The word if hangs in the balance. If she goes home.

Fuck.

I study the kid—my little brother—perched on the couch. We need to find a way to bond, or at least co-exist, because he’s going to be here for who knows how long.

Shit. I hope his mom pulls through. Jordan has already lost so much, and now he’s in a world of trouble. I know what it’s like having Baxter Heron for a father.

Jordan thinks he’s been deprived because he’s never met our dad. I know he’s better off.

“Eat breakfast and we’ll go see your—”

“Is she okay?” He doesn’t let me finish the sentence.

“She’s in a coma,” I tell him as calmly as possible. “But she has the best medical team money can buy, I assure you.”

Jordan jumps up on his feet. “We don’t have time to eat. It’s almost eight thirty. We have to go see Mom.”

I’m exhausted, slumped in an overstuffed chair, thinking what to say. The boy has to eat some time.

“Dude.” He looks at me expectantly. “I meant like now.”

The kid drives a hard bargain.

“I’ll call my driver.” I go to the kitchen and pour my coffee into a cup with a lid.

Yet another reason I hate myself for flaying Brina so raw with my words.

I won’t survive this day without a whole heaping lot of coffee, and now I’ve got to supply my own dumb ass.* * *We’ve spent the last hour in Marissa’s hospital room in total silence.

The poor woman looks awful. She’s pale with bruises on her face, her skin swollen. I can tell from Jordan’s expression that he’s about to lose it. His lower lip keeps trembling, like he’s trying to put on the brave face a man carries around like a mask, but it can’t hold up forever.

“Do you like sports?” I ask.

“Huh?” Jordan looks up from another world, dazed.

“You’re tall. Do you play basketball? I did when I was your age.”

He shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“Are you on the school team?”

He shakes his head. He hasn’t said two words to me since our last confrontation this morning, and he doesn’t look like he wants to talk right now, either.

“What, are you being shy? You weren’t so shy around me this morning.”

He shrugs, sullen. “I’m not shy. I’ve got other things on my mind. Take a hint.”

Right. If only surly teenagers came with handbooks...

Holding in a rough sigh, I look at his mom in the hospital bed with IVs and monitors hooked to both arms and stitches across her head.

“You still haven’t eaten,” I say quietly. “Would you like something from the vending machine? Or cafeteria?”

“I’m not hungry,” he grinds out, shaking his head.

Yeah. This isn’t working. The kid’s a brick wall, just like I’d be in his position.

“I’ll give you a moment alone,” I say.

I leave him at his mom’s side, his head bent so he’s practically resting it on the side of the bed. I walk into the hall and pull out my phone, then check to see if it’s working.

No calls or texts from anyone.

Just this eerie silence.

What the hell? How can it be that there are no fires to put out at HeronComm? Sabrina must be handling the news of my temporary leave, but I knew she would.

A nurse approaches just as I’m about to go back into the room. “We’re going to take Marissa for more tests. We’re investigating how much of her brain activity was affected by the trauma and what areas it’s localized to.”

I nod and follow her into the room. “Jordan, they need to take your mom for some scans. We’re going home, okay?”

He stares at me, a scowl breaking out on his face.

“There’s no point staying. If we don’t come back today, we’ll return tomorrow,” I tell both him and the nurse.

“Today. We’ll be back later today.” He gets up, kisses his mom on the cheek, and walks out the door with me.