Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance

I smiled a little bit and nodded. I believed her when she said it—she had a hard look in her eyes, despite her beauty, and I had a feeling she’d lived a tough life. I’d seen a lot of people with that look come and go from Mercy over the years since I’d been a resident. We were a major hospital in a big urban environment, which meant we got a wide variety of people—many of whom were poor or in bad positions in life. When you were a doctor at Mercy, you had to learn how to read people, how to spot the junkies desperate for a pill prescription, how to find the neglected children, the abused spouse, the blackmail victims. I’d learned to become part doctor and part detective.

Besides, I had a soft spot for women like Erica, and not only because she was beautiful—but because something was happening to her and I wanted to help. I’d seen this sort of thing before, and I’d sworn never to let it happen again—not if I could do something about it.

“I had a sister once,” I started saying, but she interrupted me.

“I’m fine,” she said again, her voice hard. “Thanks for your concern but really, if this isn’t medical in nature, I’m not interested.”

I took a breath and forced myself to smile. I couldn’t make her talk if she didn’t want to.

“All right,” I said, “if that’s what you want then I’ll leave you alone. Press the call button if you need anything from the nurses, or if you change your mind and want to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Those men were my cousins.”

I shrugged, put her chart back, and walked to the door. I looked back at her one more time and caught an agonized expression on her face before I slipped back out through her door and slid it closed.

“How’s she doing?” Fiona asked as I approached the nurses’ station.

“Seems okay, but doesn’t want to go home.” I leaned against the counter and craned my neck over it. “How do her vitals look?”

“Fine,” she said, squinting at the monitor. “What’s the deal with her? Are you worried about something?”

I shook my head and looked back at the door. “Let me know if you see some guys come visit her again, okay?”

Fiona let out a little grunt of acknowledgment. “I’m going to assume this isn’t only because she’s pretty.”

I gave her a tight smile and rapped my knuckles on the station counter. “Thanks for your help.” I walked off before she could say anything.

That girl was deep in something and I wasn’t going to let her turn me away so easily. I wasn’t the kind of man that stood by and let things happened—that wasn’t why I became a doctor, and too much had happened in my life to let me turn my back on a girl that needed help.

I didn’t know exactly what was going on or what I could do, but I was going to try, whether she wanted me to or not.2EricaMy head spun as I leaned back in the hospital bed. Every inch of me ached from the accident still, but I knew it wasn’t the concussion that made me dizzy—no, it was the visit, those two mafia bastards with their big, eager smiles and their stupid threats. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched the sheet, trying to calm my heart rate. I didn’t want the nurses to come check on me.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. I felt like I had no options—I couldn’t pay them back even if I wanted to, but I also couldn’t marry their boss. I met Cosimo once, before the accident. He showed up at my work and sat at a table in the back. He was quiet, polite, smiled a lot, and was even a little handsome—at least until he grabbed my wrist and told me that if I didn’t marry him then I’d regret it. After that, I made Tonya take over that table and spent ten minutes sobbing in the walk-in.

I couldn’t make myself stay in bed all night. As the sun sank down and visiting hours ended, I slipped out of bed, grabbed my IV stand, and snuck to my door. The nurse behind the desk was pretty with auburn hair and big hazel eyes, and she was busy writing something on a chart while another nurse gabbed on about something in her ear. I slipped around the corner and walked fast down the hall, pulling my IV with me, and reached the far end. I turned the corner and found my mother’s room, two doors down on the left. I pulled open the door, walked inside, and shut it behind me.

My mother lay on the bed with her eyes shut, her blankets pulled up to her chest, the machines beeping, and breathing, and churning away. I felt tears spring into my eyes as I walked over to the chair next to her bed and sank down into it. She had a large gash down the side of her head that had been stitched shut, making her look like Frankenstein, or like she’d had brain surgery.