Читать книгу Claiming Colleen - Beth Kery - Страница 8

The first thing Colleen Kavanaugh Sinclair saw when she walked into Dr. Fielding’s familiar examination room was her son, Brendan, slouching in a chair. The second thing was her arch-nemesis standing nonchalantly next to him. Once she took in Eric Reyes’s unexpected presence, pretty much everything faded from her awareness for two stunned seconds.

Of course, he wasn’t really her arch-nemesis. That was just stupid. An enemy would have to mean something to her, and Eric Reyes did not mean anything.

“Colleen, Dr. Reyes mentioned that you two know one another.” Dr. Fielding’s voice interrupted her dazed disbelief.

She blinked and forced her attention to Dr. Fielding. He looked especially short, round and amiable while standing next to the brooding, dark tower of maleness that was Eric Reyes. Dr. Fielding had moved to Harbor Town around twelve years ago, soon after Colleen herself had returned. He’d delivered Brendan and her daughter, Jenny. Because he hadn’t lived in Harbor Town at the time of the crash, he clearly didn’t get the history and thick emotion that ran like a humming electrical wire beneath his seemingly innocuous statement about her and Eric knowing one another.

“Did he?” Colleen returned, eyebrows arched.

“Yes, he’s told me you two work together at The Family Center. Wonderful place. I’ve heard Colleen speak twice now about the facility,” he said, turning to Eric. “Once for the Rotary Club and once for the Pediatric Society in Detroit. She’s a talented public educator and speaker, in addition to being a gifted clinician. But I’m sure I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, Eric,” Dr. Fielding said.

His warm, friendly glance between Eric and Colleen melted when he noticed Eric’s wooden expression and Colleen’s averted gaze. She inhaled deeply for courage. If Eric could seem so calm, so could she.

“I work at The Family Center,” Colleen corrected. “Dr. Reyes is a volunteer. He comes in a few hours a week.” Blessing us with his supreme presence, Colleen finished silently. Eric’s mouth twitched, as if she’d spoken the words out loud. If she hadn’t been thrown so off balance by Eric’s unexpected presence at her son’s doctor’s appointment, she probably would have had to hide a grin at the knowledge that her arrow had hit its target.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him quietly instead.

Eric held up a chart. “Dr. Fielding consulted with me about Brendan’s case today. I examined Brendan. Even though your son hasn’t quite finished his course of penicillin, I recommended an X-ray and bone scan. We’ve received the results.”

“You recommended them?” Colleen repeated. She hadn’t realized he’d examined her son, although she now recalled Brendan mentioning a funny, cool young doctor dude who had looked at his foot last week before Colleen had taken him for X-rays in a different part of the hospital. Dr. Fielding had said he’d have a specialist take a look at the foot, but neither that comment or her son’s description had brought to mind Eric Reyes, who, in Colleen’s opinion, was an interfering, arrogant block of ice. Sure, he might have that glossy, dark, movie-star-quality hair and angular jaw that kept the secretaries at The Family Center wide-eyed and breathless. And she conceded he possessed an authoritative yet trustworthy bedside manner.

But Colleen’s days of being overwhelmed by those surface charms were long over.

“Dr. Reyes is Harbor Town Memorial’s finest orthopedic surgeon, Colleen. I immediately went to him when I had questions about Brendan’s foot problem.”

Her brow crinkled. She glanced anxiously at Brendan. Her son gave a small, sheepish shrug and rolled his eyes. Her heart squeezed in her chest in compassion for him. She knew how much he longed to be back playing football, how much he despised all these doctor appointments. The “foot problem” had become the bane of his twelve-year-old existence.

Over the past month, Brendan had acquired a limp. Initially, it’d hardly been noticeable, but it became more pronounced every day. Brendan denied any serious pain, insisting there was only a dull ache in his right foot. Colleen had assumed he’d pulled a muscle or gotten run over by an unusually big kid at Little League football practice, although Brendan and his coach insisted nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She’d made an appointment with Dr. Fielding, not really expecting anything more than the normal bruises and sprains Brendan had acquired over his active boyhood years. Dr. Fielding had discovered internal swelling and recommended a course of antibiotic treatment. Much to Brendan’s distress, Dr. Fielding had also put the kibosh on any more football for the rest of the season.

Eric Reyes was an orthopedic surgeon, though. His presence at this day-long hospital visit implied the foot problem was a good deal more significant than a bruise or infection.

“He needs a specialist? It’s that serious?” Colleen asked Eric.

“Brendan hasn’t responded to the course of oral antibiotics. The swelling of the soft tissue has increased, as has his pain. Considerably,” Eric replied.

She knew patients at The Family Center responded to Eric to an uncommon degree, seeming to instinctively trust his intelligent, incisive, perpetually unruffled manner. What he was saying in that even, authoritative tone didn’t soothe Colleen at the moment, however. It frightened her.

This did sound serious.

“Your pain is worse?” Colleen said, turning to Brendan. Her son shrugged again.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” Brendan mumbled.

“On a pediatric scale of pain, Brendan is scoring in the high category,” Eric said.

“Brendan, why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so much?” Colleen asked worriedly. Brendan hunched down, revealing little to her but the crown of his dark gold, wavy hair. She forced down a maternal desire to go over and hug him. She swore her son had skipped preadolescence and moved right into teenage rebellion. It bewildered her at times, how independent he wanted to be, how withdrawn he could get. One second he’d been an adorable, chubby two-year-old, the next he’d become an impenetrable puzzle.

Colleen wasn’t ready for her little boy to grow up. She wasn’t prepared to deal with Eric Reyes. She wasn’t ready for any of this.

“Some people are underreporters of pain,” Eric said, diverting her attention away from Brendan. He approached her and opened the medical chart. “It’s actually fairly common among active, athletically inclined kids. Brendan’s not being dishonest when he says it doesn’t hurt that bad. He just has a high pain tolerance, that’s all.”

She glanced up quickly into his face. Typically, she made a point of not standing so close to him when they worked together at the Center. At five foot eight inches, she was tall for a woman. Her brothers were both tall men, but in general, she wasn’t used to having to look up so far into a man’s face. She especially hated having to do it with Eric.

He showed her the contents of the folder, pointing at an X-ray. “Here’s the problem. Do you see this dark portion here? That’s an osteolytic lesion at the first metatarsal of Brendan’s foot. It’s beginning to punch into the bone.”

“Lesion? Wait…you don’t mean—” Colleen stopped herself short, her mouth hanging open. She gaped at Eric as the beginnings of panic started to roil around in her belly. The word she’d stopped herself from saying in Brendan’s presence echoed around in her skull like a ricocheting bullet.

Cancer.

“It means that the inflammation of the soft tissue is starting to eat away at a portion of Brendan’s bone,” Eric said quietly. She stared up at him, unable to look away from his eyes. The compassion she saw in them couldn’t penetrate her alarm. Neither did Dr. Fielding’s reassuring touch on her upper arm.

“Dr. Reyes is recommending surgery on the foot, Colleen,” Dr. Fielding said in his warm, grandfatherly manner. “I’d like to admit Brendan this afternoon. We’ve already briefed him, and Dr. Reyes has generously made room in his schedule. He’ll be able to do the surgery first thing tomorrow morning.”

“No,” Colleen blurted out.

“Uh…no?” Dr. Fielding repeated, confused. “Colleen, this is my recommended course of treatment. Dr. Reyes feels the surgery should be done as soon as possible, and I agree wholeheartedly. ”

“May I talk to you for a moment? In private?” Colleen asked Eric in a high-pitched voice.

She distantly noticed through her rising anxiety that Eric looked much calmer than Dr. Fielding, almost as if he’d expected Colleen’s reaction. He nodded toward the door.

She gave Brendan a reassuring smile and brushed back his bangs. “I’ll be right back. Okay?” She waited for her son’s nod before she followed Eric. He led her down the hallway to a dark, empty exam room.

“What do you mean, lesion?” she demanded the second he flipped on a light and closed the door. “What is it, exactly, that’s eating into Brendan’s bone?”

“It’s likely that some kind of foreign body somehow managed to lodge itself in the tissue. I questioned Brendan about it. He does recall stepping on a good-sized thorn when he was at the beach months back.”

“But—”

He held up his hand in a “pause” gesture.

“I know he probably never said anything about it to you. He wasn’t aware that something had lodged in his foot. I won’t know more until I can get in there and clean up the tissue.”

“But you said lesion. You said something was eating away at the bone. Does that mean it’s cancerous?”

The edges of her vision darkened, as if just saying the word out loud had taken everything out of her. Eric stood just inches away, one hand on her upper arm, steadying her. When had he moved closer? Colleen wondered dazedly.

“No, no, it’s not cancerous,” he said hastily. “It’s an unusual situation. The cells are irregular, yes, because of the persistent inflammation. The location of the lesion is isolated, though. A minor surgery and debridement of the tissue will take care of things completely. On the other hand, we shouldn’t wait, because the health and structure of Brendan’s bone is at risk. I wouldn’t want it to develop into osteomyelitis. He’ll get an intravenous cocktail of antibiotics, but that’s the only postoperative treatment he’ll require besides some physical therapy. We’ll follow him closely afterward, but there’s every reason to believe that a cleanup of the tissue and removal of the foreign body will resolve things.”

Colleen stared blankly at the light blue shirt he wore beneath his blue lab coat. “The bone hasn’t been damaged permanently?”

“No,” he replied, his firm tone reassuring her despite her disorientation.

“I want another opinion.”

“I thought you might say that.” She glanced up. A shock went through her when she finally took in how close he was to her. He’d combed his hair back, but the long bangs had fallen forward and brushed his cheekbone. A five o’clock shadow darkened his lean jaw. He had a cleft in his chin. She didn’t know how it was possible that his midnight eyes could be as cold and hard as onyx at times, and so warm at others.

Like now.

“The only other orthopedic surgeon at Harbor Town Memorial is Marissa Shraeven.” He leaned his head to the side and hitched his chin toward Brendan’s chart, keeping his gaze on her the whole time. Colleen realized he’d tossed the chart on the exam table before he’d reached out to steady her. “I had her review the case. She agrees one hundred percent with my course of treatment.”

The pressure of his hand increased subtly. She turned out of his hold and took several steps, distancing herself. His nearness was only increasing her unrest.

“I’d like Dr. Shraeven to operate, then.”

“Really?” he asked dryly.

She spun around. “What’s that mean?” He looked so calm that for a split second, she was sure she’d misunderstood the edge of sarcasm in his tone. He reached and retrieved Brendan’s chart.

“I think you know what it means,” he said mildly, his gaze flickering over the chart.

“I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to operate on Brendan.”

“Are you questioning my ability?” he asked, looking up.

“No.” She gave an exasperated sigh when he merely quirked up one brow in a challenging gesture.

“My integrity, then?”

“I’m not questioning your ability or integrity. I just think that given everything…given our pasts, there has to be a better option.”

For several seconds they just stared at one another while Colleen listened to her heartbeat drum loudly in her ears.

“So you’re falling back on the excuse of the crash, is that it?” he finally said.

“Does it surprise you? My father killed your mother sixteen years ago in a car wreck. I know how you feel about the Kavanaughs. I know how you feel about me,” she finished under her breath.

“Do you?”

She hoped her incredulous glance reminded him of it all—the deaths of their parents, his sister’s considerable injuries and facial scarring, the lawsuits brought against Colleen’s father’s estate by the Reyes and Itani families, their silent battle of wills while the two of them worked together at The Family Center…

“I’m not buying it,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not buying that you don’t want me to operate on your son because your father killed my mother in a case of reckless homicide.”

“Oh, really? You can think of a better reason why I wouldn’t want you to operate on Brendan?”

“I can,” he said quietly, glancing up from the chart. “Sunset Beach, Memorial Day weekend, last summer.”

His image swam in her vision. She breathed through her nose slowly, trying to calm herself. Her knees went weak. She felt flattened and numb at once.

She couldn’t believe he’d just mentioned that night so casually. They’d worked together at The Family Center now for over a year—distantly and infrequently, granted—but still, they’d seen one another, spoken to each other…

…simmered in each other’s presence.

Never once during that time period had he acknowledged what had happened on the beach that hot, early summer night. Colleen had been all too eager to comply with his silence on the matter. She’d never been able to come to terms with that kiss; never could logically make sense of it. It shocked her to the core that he’d just brought up that forbidden topic in this situation. She’d long known Eric Reyes had nerves of steel, but she’d underestimated him.

His cockiness was titanium strength.

“I’m the most qualified orthopedic surgeon in Southern Michigan,” he continued. “Are you really going to waste precious time booking appointments with other specialists who are going to tell you exactly what I just did? All because you’re too proud to acknowledge a kiss? Or are you too stubborn to admit how much you liked it?” he added in a low, rough voice.

He’d done the impossible for the second time in her life. He’d made her hyperaware of her weakness, not to mention speechless with the knowledge. She responded precisely as she had that first time on Sunset Beach.

By turning and walking away.

Late the next morning, Colleen and her mother conferred across the hospital bed, their voices hushed because Brendan lay sleeping between them. He’d awakened in the recovery room earlier, but he’d soon fallen asleep once he’d been hooked up for his first round of IV antibiotics. To Colleen, he looked smaller than usual lying motionless in that bed, more vulnerable than she cared to consider with the tubes running from his arm to the machine administering the medication.

“I wish Dr. Fielding would come and examine him,” Brigit Kavanaugh said as she studied her grandson, her brow creased with worry.

Colleen experienced a twinge of annoyance at her mother’s uncertainty about Eric Reyes operating on Brendan. Guilt followed her mild irritation. What right did she have to be annoyed at her mother when she’d expressed even worse doubts about him just yesterday afternoon?

It hadn’t taken her long to work past her wariness about Eric. Of course she wanted the most qualified surgeon available. Brendan’s well-being was her top priority, and if that meant she had to squirm in discomfort because of the identity of the most qualified candidate, so be it. She heard from practically everyone on the planet how skilled, smart and gifted Eric was at his job. Working with him for the past year plus had proven to her the accolades weren’t overrated. He was talented, all right, even if his approach with her patients had occasionally set her on edge. He’d been known to trump her clinical opinion a time or two.

But truth be told, Eric’s kindness and attention both toward Colleen and Brendan before and after the surgery had cooled her uncertainties considerably.

“Brendan is under Dr. Reyes’s care, Mom,” she said quietly. “He says the surgery couldn’t have gone any better. He assured me the wound has been completely cleaned. Brendan is going to be fine.”

Colleen waited, her breath burning in her lungs, sure she knew what her mother would say next. He’s only a specialist because he took all of our money in that lawsuit and bought himself a medical degree. She’d learned to dread her mother’s hurt and defensiveness every time the crash or anything relating to it was mentioned.

But the bitter words never came.

Brigit had changed a lot in the last two months, ever since Liam—Colleen’s brother—had confronted her about her past; ever since old Kavanaugh family secrets had been exposed, secrets that revealed why Derry Kavanaugh had been so upset and intoxicated on that fateful night sixteen years ago. The Kavanaugh family was still reeling from the revelation of those painful truths, perhaps Brigit—the secret-keeper—most of all.

Brigit had not only hidden the fact that her daughter Deidre was another man’s child for Deidre’s entire childhood, she’d also withheld the identity of Deidre’s father until just a few months ago.

At times like this, Colleen found herself missing her mother’s anger. It was better than the quiet, sad resignation that seemed to have replaced the bitterness.

“I know, but still…Dr. Fielding delivered Brendan. He knew Darin,” Brigit added, referring to Colleen’s husband, who had died in a special operation in Afghanistan three years ago. Brigit gently tucked the blanket around Brendan’s waist. “We’ve known Dr. Fielding for so long now.”

They’d known Eric Reyes longer, Colleen thought. Her mother hardly needed reminding of that, though. One of the innocent victims of the crash had been Eric Reyes’s mother, Miriam. Another victim had been his sister, Natalie. Natalie had escaped the tragedy with her life, but she’d spent the better part of her eleventh year in the hospital, suffering from severe injuries and scarring sustained in the accident. Eric had been both father and mother to his little sister since he was eighteen years old.

It was no wonder Eric could be so cool and businesslike at times, Colleen admitted to herself. He’d hardly ever had the opportunity to be a carefree teenager. None of the kids in the Itani, Kavanaugh or Reyes families had really had much of an opportunity for that. At least, not since the crash.

She stood like she’d bounced off springs when the object of her thoughts walked into the room. She was surprised to see him so soon after he’d conferred with her so extensively postoperatively only around an hour ago. He was so tall that he seemed to fill up the small, curtained-off area of the hospital room completely. Or maybe it wasn’t just his physical stature that caused her reaction, but the strength of his formidable personality.

He nodded at Colleen in a friendly, professional way.

“Out like a light, huh?” he murmured as he studied his patient.

“He’s been asleep for about forty-five minutes. Should I wake him?” Colleen asked.

“No, he’s fine. The nurse took his vitals before he fell asleep, and he looks likes he’s resting easy. I’ll come back in a bit and check on him.”

Colleen nodded. She had a feeling that most surgeons didn’t offer this much bedside attention, and she was thankful.

She was also a little confused by his solicitation, but she thought she might understand it. Colleen had worked as a social worker in hospitals for most of her adult life. She was familiar with the professional courtesy employees in the medical field extended one another when it came to caring for family members. Besides, thanks to Liam and Natalie’s flourishing romance, Eric and Colleen were related now, in a sense. Colleen had managed to deny that connection in her mind for the past several months as she watched her brother and Eric’s sister growing closer and closer. It seemed impossible to ignore it under these new circumstances, however.

“Mrs. Kavanaugh,” Eric said politely to her mother, “are you comfortable? Would you like something to drink?”

Color stained her mother’s pale cheeks. She wondered if it was the first time Eric and her mother had met with anything less than animosity since the courtroom proceedings following the crash. She couldn’t help but feel thankful to him for his kindness.

“I’m fine,” Brigit said softly, her gaze averted. “Thank you for taking such good care of my grandson.”

“He’s a strong kid. Smart, too. I had nature on my side as his doctor.” He glanced at Colleen. “I’ll just come back in a short while.”

“Thanks,” Colleen said.

She hadn’t meant for the word to come out sounding so pressured…so earnest. Maybe it was his unexpected kindness toward her mother that had made her sound that way. His gaze flickered over her face, and his small smile faded. Their gazes locked. For a split second, she was unguarded. She felt it: that connection that took place whenever she looked—really looked—into his eyes. For the first time, she admitted that jolt of awareness was the reason she’d been so determined to avoid his presence for over a year.

She glanced away, feeling breathless.

“Of course,” she heard him say stiffly before he left the room.

Her mother picked up a magazine and began to leaf through the pages. Colleen suspected she was trying to be tactful by not discussing Eric. What did one say, precisely, in these unusual circumstances?

The silence stretched, interrupted only by the soft beeps of the IV machine and the distant sound of voices at the nurses’ station. She had nothing to distract her from recalling that charged glance she’d shared with Eric before he’d left the hospital room just now. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from remembering other things, as well…things she’d rather stayed buried, feelings she found highly disrespectful and unsettling, given her love for her husband.

She didn’t want to remember. Not when her son had just had a surgery.

Not ever.

Her undisciplined thoughts kept veering into forbidden territory, however. She couldn’t seem to stop herself from recalling every detail of what had happened on Sunset Beach nearly a year and a half ago. Surely her memory was playing tricks on her.

There was no way Eric’s body could have felt so hard or fit against her so perfectly. No man alive could possibly taste so good.

Ridiculous. Impossible, Colleen assured herself heatedly. It was some strange combination of their argument and their volatile history that had made the moment so electric.

The noise of her mother setting her magazine back on the bedside table started Colleen out of her memories and ruminations.

She sighed and brushed her son’s bangs off his forehead. Brendan still slept. He’d never let her pet him like this if he was awake, she thought, a familiar small pain going through her.

She hadn’t set a toe on Sunset Beach for over a year now, despite Eric’s invitation to continue with her swimming routine. She’d been all too happy to forget that bizarre, inexplicable incident. Kissing Eric just didn’t fit in to her safe, known world. When Eric appeared just as eager as she was to ignore what had happened, Colleen had assumed he was as regretful as she was.

So why had he made a point of reminding her of it yesterday in that examination room?

Even if they didn’t share a turbulent past, he was the exact type of man Colleen disliked: opinionated, arrogant, bull-headed. Movie-star-caliber good looks could only get a guy so far when they were accompanied by all those less-than-stellar qualities.

Besides, hadn’t her father used to say Colleen had cornered the market on stubbornness in the Kavanaugh family? It was no wonder she didn’t get along with Eric. They were like repelling magnets. Was that why her heart give a flutter when she heard someone enter the hospital room? She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the tall man who appeared next to the drawn curtain wasn’t the handsome surgeon.

“Hey,” she greeted quietly, smiling at her brother, Liam. He was in uniform, and his wavy, light brown hair streaked with gold looked windblown. “Did you walk over from the station?” The Municipal Building, where Liam worked as the chief of police, was only a few blocks from the hospital complex.

“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. How’s he doing?” Liam asked in a hushed tone as he bent down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“He’s doing great,” Colleen replied. “Eric says the wound looks clean and that the bone tissue should heal with time. Brendan’s going to have to do some physical therapy, though.”

“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem. It’d be more of a challenge to keep Brendan still for any extended period,” Liam said, grinning. “Did Eric say what had lodged in his foot?”

“A rose thorn, of all things,” Brigit murmured, shaking her head.

It struck her as a little surreal to hear her little brother say Eric’s name so casually. A year ago, he would have said Reyes with a hard edge to his voice and a frosty look in his blue eyes. Now he spoke of him as he would a close friend or family member. Which Eric was, in a way, Colleen conceded. Liam had told her point-blank last month he’d fallen hard for Eric’s sister, Natalie.

Still, the change in the landscape of her life disoriented her a little. Things had seemed much more comprehensible when Eric Reyes was her enemy, pure and simple.

No matter. Brendan would be out of the hospital in a few days, and she and Eric could go back to keeping their wary distance from one another.

Liam sat down, and they talked for a few minutes in hushed tones until they were interrupted by the nurse coming in with a pitcher and some plastic cups.

“Dr. Reyes says he can have ice water when he wakes up if he wants it,” the nurse told Colleen.

Brendan’s eyelids flickered at the sound of the nurse’s voice.

“Mom?” he asked hoarsely, sounding a little anxious and disoriented. Colleen placed her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently.

“I’m right here, honey,” she soothed.

He focused on her sitting next to his bedside, and his anxiety immediately vanished. “I’m thirsty,” he said.

“Perfect timing, kid,” Liam said as Brigit stood to pour him some water. Brendan turned his head on the pillow and returned his uncle’s grin groggily.

“How are you feeling, Brendan?” Brigit asked.

“Okay.”

“Your foot doesn’t hurt?” she asked. As if her words had reminded him, Brendan lifted his head and stared down at his bandaged foot. He groaned, and his head fall back on the pillow.

“Does that mean yes?” Colleen asked anxiously.

“It doesn’t hurt, Mom,” Brendan assured, meeting her eyes.

Colleen loved her son to the ends of the world at the moment. He got exasperated with her mom-worry sometimes, but deep down, he knew how much she loved him.

“He just saw the bandages and thought of all the boring hours of lying in bed,” Liam said knowingly.

“Dr. Reyes said I can start moving around later this afternoon. He says it’ll make my foot stronger,” Brendan told Liam between sips of water.

“Did someone say my name?” Eric asked. The curtained-off portion of the already small space suddenly seemed as crowded as a dorm-room party.

“Hi,” Brendan said, smiling at Eric. “Did you do a good job on my foot?”

“Your mom didn’t tell you?” Eric asked.

“I just woke up,” Brendan said, leading Colleen to believe he didn’t remember much about his groggy transfer from the recovery room to his hospital bed.

“Then I’ll tell you,” Eric said. “You’re going to be tackling your uncle here by Thanksgiving, because I did a fantastic job.”

Brendan gave a tired little whoop of celebration.

Colleen couldn’t help but give a grudging smile as she watched Eric and Liam shake hands in greeting. She had to hand it to him. His cockiness was only exceeded by his charm.

Brigit and Liam stepped out of the room to give Eric room to examine Brendan, giving Colleen a chance to observe Eric’s easy banter with her son and the way Brendan seemed so comfortable with him.

“Do you work with kids a lot?” Colleen mused after he’d finished Brendan’s nerve response test, joking and talking with her son and distracting him with the fact that he was gently poking at his exposed toes with a sharp-looking metal instrument.

“I did my residency in pediatric orthopedic surgery,” Eric said. “When I was hired at Harbor Town Memorial, it was with an understanding that I’d be serving both adults and children, though.”

“Why did you decide to come back to Harbor Town when you could have worked in a larger hospital and just focused on children?” Colleen asked, puzzled. It suddenly struck her that she really knew absolutely nothing about him. Eric opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.

“Hi, Brendan. Hey, Colleen.” Colleen looked around to see Natalie Reyes, Eric’s sister, peering around the curtain hesitantly. Eric glanced at Natalie and then back at Colleen. Suddenly, Colleen had her answer. He’d sacrificed some of his personal goals because he’d felt a fraternal responsibility toward his younger sister.

Natalie must have come from her office, because she wore an attractive chocolate-brown suit that highlighted her svelte figure and dark eyes.

“Should I come back later?” she asked.

“No, I’m all finished. My patient gets perfect marks,” Eric said. He walked over and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. Colleen noticed that Brendan’s eyes went wide at the gesture. He looked stunned that his newly acquired friend had just done something as treasonous as kiss his uncle’s girl right in front of him. Eric must have noticed, because he grinned.

“Natalie is my sister, Brendan.” He threw Colleen a quick, wry glance. “I see no one told you that, either.”

“Well, I’m sorry! It never came up. We were thinking about other things, like emergency surgeries,” Colleen said defensively.

“Natalie is your sister?” Brendan asked.

Natalie smiled and nodded.

“Didn’t the same last name ring any bells?” Eric asked, chuckling at Brendan’s continued wide-eyed stare of amazement.

Brendan grinned and shook his head.

“Liam told me you’re doing really well, Brendan,” Natalie said.

“I’m okay. Just sleepy,” Brendan said before he grimaced slightly. “And a little…”

“What?” Colleen asked.

“Sick to your stomach?” Eric asked from behind her.

“A little,” Brendan admitted.

Colleen glanced around at Eric. He obviously read her concern, because he gave her a small smile.

“It’s normal to be groggy and a little nauseous after the anesthesia. I’ll have the nurse bring in some soda and crackers. Then Brendan can take a nice long nap.”

Natalie walked out of the room with her brother while Colleen stayed with Brendan, who was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Eric returned a few minutes later. He hadn’t just told a nurse to bring something to soothe Brendan’s stomach. He’d brought the items himself.

“I really didn’t expect you to do all this,” Colleen said in a hushed tone as she stared at Brendan’s sleeping face. He had drunk half a cup of soda and eaten two crackers. He’d said his stomach felt better before he’d promptly fallen asleep.

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

Colleen blinked and turned around from where she was sitting at the edge of Brendan’s bed. She’d been surprised, all right—by the nearness of Eric’s quiet, gruff voice, not by his solicitation. He stood a foot or so behind her. Her face was at the level of his abdomen. Her gaze flickered up the length of his scrubs. His eyes gleamed in his shadowed face as he looked down at her. She found it impossible to break his stare. The moment stretched.

Her heart seemed to stall in her chest as he reached to touch her cheek.