Dr. Fake It - A Possessive Doctor Romance - Page 5

“Yeah, I know. But I wanted to visit her.”

He nodded and looked at her. “How’s she doing?”

“You tell me.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

He walked over to the chart, took it out, and flipped through the pages. “Not much has changed since she was admitted,” he said. “Swelling in her brain’s gone down, which is good. Seems like her injuries are healing.”

“Do you think she’ll wake up?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s what they all say.” I looked back at her and held her hand tighter. “I think it’s a nice way of saying no.”

He took a breath and let it out. When he spoke, his voice was soft and soft. “I’ve seen a lot in this place over the years. I’ve seen it all happen, one way or the other. Miracles and tragedies. I really can’t say which way it’ll break for your mom, because I’ve seen too much to know that sometimes it’s impossible to say.”

I let out a snort. “That sounds like bullshit, you know.”

He laughed and I glanced back at him. I wasn’t trying to be funny—I was trying to push him away, to piss him off, to get him to leave me alone.

“I’m sure it does,” he said, “but it’s the truth. Mercy has a way of making you realize how powerless you are sometimes.”

I chewed my lip and narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was being a dick or if he was serious—and either way, I wasn’t a fan. He was handsome, that was for sure, gorgeous really, but that didn’t change anything.

I was tainted goods, and if he was smart, he’d stay far away.

“Can I stay with her for a little while?” I asked.

He hesitated. “I shouldn’t let you.”

I looked at him. “Please. For a little while.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his thick, hard hair. “All right, you can stay for a half hour. I have to do rounds, and when I get back, I’ll bring you to your room.”

“Thanks.” I smiled at him, trying to be disarming. Maybe being rude wouldn’t work—I could kill him with kindness instead.

He smiled back. “Sure, and when you’re ready to talk about those guys—”

My smile disappeared. “You should drop it.”

He tilted his head. “Maybe I should, but something’s up with you.”

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just a girl that got into an accident and I’m worried about my mom.”

“Right, that’s all you are.” He studied me and I squirmed a little under his gaze. It was intense, and I remembered the way he’d looked at my breasts before when the sheet fell down, remembered the glimmer of lust in his eyes—and felt a strange elation run through me. I had to look away.

He lingered for a few seconds longer before walking to the door again. I watched as he pushed it open and paused on the threshold. He looked back at me and his eyes told me everything—he knew I was in trouble, and he wasn’t going to let this go.

He shut the door and left me alone with my mother.

“That one’s going to be trouble,” I said softly to her, shaking my head. “I think I’m going to have to get out of here.” I chewed on my lip and leaned my head down until it touched her leg. It felt strange and bony, like she’d lost a lot of weight over the last few days. My mother and I had always been close, and I could remember curling up with her on the couch while she smoked cigarette after cigarette. We’d watch sitcoms, whatever was on at the time, and talk about our days. She worked in a law office and hated all the lawyers, and I had plenty of stories about all the snobby assholes that came into the restaurant. We’d laugh and talk about me going to college, although we both knew it’d never happen.

I wished she’d wake up and solve this problem for me.

“I don’t want to go, but that doctor’s going to keep pushing, and I can’t let him figure it out. I’m sorry, Mom. I swear I’ll come visit, and when you wake up, we’ll get you out of here, too.”

She said nothing, only breathed in, breathed out, and slept.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to cry, but the tears spilled out anyway, making the blanket damp.3GavinAnother day at Mercy General passed like waves washing over a beach. I felt exhausted, strung out, and wrung of all my vital energy, but the thought of Erica kept nagging at me, even when I got home.

I spent the night drinking whiskey and trying to watch TV, but mostly thought about what the hell that girl had gotten herself into. The idea that a man wanted to force her into getting married made my pulse spike—and even worse was the thought that she’d go along with it.

Tags: B.B. Hamel Romance
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