Dare to Stay (Dare Nation 4)

“How’s it going with Willow?”

“Avoidance at its finest,” he muttered. “She’s a tough nut to crack. Not that I blame her. She’s a child of foster care. Moved around a lot. She puts up walls to keep from getting hurt. She let me in and I blew things. It’s going to take more than an I’m sorry to make her believe in me again.” It was the first time he’d spoken about Willow’s past and her issues. As much as he respected her privacy, he needed an ear and some advice. “So the question is, do I push or give her space?”

“I say push. What’s space going to get you but more of the same? Being ignored.” Hudson shrugged and glanced out the window.

“Good point.” Braden cut the engine and they exited the car, meeting up in the graveled lot.

“The outside leaves a lot to be desired,” Braden said, checking out the building you couldn’t even tell was a health clinic but for the small sign in the window.

“I hope the equipment inside is up-to-date and working. Not to mention the state of their supplies.” Hudson strode up to the glass and peered inside. “Hard to tell.”

Braden opened the door, and they walked into a full waiting room with what was clearly a barely working air conditioning unit. He stopped at the check-in window.

A woman glanced up at him, looking harried. “How can I help you? Though I should warn you it’s a long wait. We’re short-staffed.”

He leaned an arm on the counter. “Actually that’s why we’re here. We’re doctors interested in joining the staff. Can we speak to whoever’s in charge?”

“Dr. Anderson!” the woman spun around and called out toward the back of the area. “Two doctors here to see you! You’re going to want to talk to them.”

Turning, Braden raised an eyebrow at Hudson, who shrugged.

Half an hour later, they’d been given a tour of the facility, such as it was, three exam rooms in the back, a storage area that needed organization, an X-ray machine that lacked a technician, and a donated ultrasound machine. Basically, they were making do with the bare minimum and that included doctors on hand and ready to help.

Dr. Thomas Anderson had welcomed them without question. The clinic operated on a sliding scale of what a patient could afford and, according to Tom, as he liked to be called, was hanging on by a thread. Braden and Hudson were badly needed.

Braden knew he’d have the time. Ian had assured him once he had his footing with the players, he could fall into a routine with overseeing the athletes here, and like the other doctors, he could either work at a medical practice or, as he wanted to do, this healthcare clinic.

As they were talking, the receptionist began to call out. “One man with chest pains, another with severe bleeding, and a pregnant woman with cramping!”

Tom looked from Braden to Hudson, who shrugged. “I’ve got the bleeder.”

“I’ll take the chest pains,” Tom said.

“Send me the pregnant patient.” Braden headed to the nearest sink to scrub his hands. He wasn’t an obstetrician, but he’d delivered babies with much less equipment in much less sterile conditions, so he felt sure he could handle this situation.

The young woman, a blonde named Aurora Michaels, said she was eighteen and seven months pregnant. She’d been into the center earlier in her pregnancy and hadn’t been back since. She just barely met the metrics for a safe weight at this stage of her pregnancy, and she appeared exhausted, causing his heart to twist at the sight.

He examined her, then used the sonogram machine to check on the baby, making conversation as he ran the wand over her stomach. “Are the contractions regular?” he asked.

“No. They just made me nervous. It’s too early to have my baby,” she said, tears in her eyes along with the trembling fear in her voice.

“Well, that’s a good sign. Are the contractions getting stronger?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a tightening that’s uncomfortable and it comes and goes.”

“Okay, let’s see. Do you want to know if you’re having a boy or a girl?”

Her eyes opened wide. “I… Yes. Please.”

He didn’t have to look too intently. “It’s a girl,” he said with a smile. “And she looks good.”

The young woman on the table visibly relaxed, a tear slipping out of one eye. Poor kid, he thought, wondering if she was all alone. He’d have to tiptoe carefully in order to find out.

“Are you getting enough sleep? I know it’s harder the later you go in the third trimester.” He’d start with basic questions about her life and hope for truthful answers.

She bit down on her lip. “Sometimes. Depends on the night.”

“And food? Are you eating okay?” he asked, checking measurements of the baby’s head. All looked good. He breathed out his own sigh of relief.