Читать книгу One Night To Change Their Lives - Tina Beckett - Страница 11

THE EMERGENCY ROOM wasn’t as busy as it normally was. Sometimes the room was full, medical personnel running back and forth. But it was still early, and the hospital was exceptionally good at triage. His hospital in New York had also had a great quick-response team that could handle multiple trauma cases at the drop of a hat. That attention to skill and speed had probably saved his life after his accident, even though he could only remember bits and pieces of what happened.

Winding his way through the space as he often did on Monday mornings, he mentally kept track of what he saw. He’d made it a habit to visit a different department at the beginning of every workday. Not so much to check up on everyone as to make sure people felt comfortable approaching him. That they felt as if they were being heard.

The last thing he wanted was to be one of those aloof bosses that sat in his office issuing edicts and making sure everyone followed them to the letter. He wanted people to stay at the hospital because they wanted to, because it had an atmosphere that was conducive to sticking around.

Which was why when he’d sensed Addy might want to move on, he’d reacted so strongly. Right?

The emergency-room doctor had caught his attention, and not just because of her hours. Her colleagues talked as if she were some kind of superhero.

Was he sure that wasn’t why he was here now? To make sure the hospital’s star player wasn’t going to burn herself out?

Or was it more personal than that?

Nope. It was Monday. He was simply sticking to routine.

And the envelope he’d found on his desk this morning? She’d arrived even before he had. Had she not heard a single word he’d said?

Nodding to a staff member who made eye contact, he suddenly wondered if he should have skipped coming down here. He didn’t want Addy to think he was seeking her out.

Because he wasn’t.

Pivoting on his heel, he almost ran over the very person he was now hoping to avoid.

“Dr. Stapleton.” Her wide eyes and breathless tone made him smile. Okay. So maybe it wasn’t just him feeling awkward.

“Garret, remember? Everyone else calls me by my given name.”

“Oh. Of course.” She glanced at the electronic file-storage device still in her hands. “Did you get my note?”

“You mean the one that was lying on my desk when I arrived?”

“I always get here at six.” Her quick response was defensive, and her eyes came up to meet his. “I’m off on Wednesday, though. I’m actually planning on surfing.”

“Surfing as in the internet?”

Her head cocked sideways. “No. Surfing as in at the beach.” Her hand twirled through the air. “In the ocean. Catching waves.”

“You—surf?” A quick image of Addy flashed through his skull. A wetsuit? Or, worse, a bikini? He suddenly wished he hadn’t asked her to clarify her response.

Up went her brows. “This is South Beach. Doesn’t everyone?”

“I haven’t taken a survey recently.”

She laughed. “Sorry. I just thought that most Floridians… Oh, wait. You’re from New York. Sorry. Coming here must have been a big change for you.”

His imaginings died a painful death.

“Not as big as other changes.” His hand curled next to his side. Why had he just said that? “Both places have a lot of people. And a need for good medical care.”

“Of course.” She hesitated. “Do you still do consulting at all?”

“Sorry?”

“On cases. I had a head trauma come in the other day and the neurologist on duty was tied up in surgery. It took a little longer to get the patient evaluated than I would have liked.”

“Did it change the outcome?”

“The patient didn’t make it. But no, the outcome probably would have been the same. But it would be nice to know there’s someone else I can call if the need arises.”

His jaw tightened. No one at Miami’s Grace had asked him that question before. Which was another reason he’d relocated. If people didn’t think of him as a neurosurgeon, they wouldn’t treat him like one. Did he really want to open that door? Then again, did he want to risk a patient’s life by refusing?

“I don’t do surgery anymore.” Said as if he still could. So why hadn’t he said “can’t”? Maybe because he hadn’t quite faced the fact that he would never again use a scalpel to excise a brain tumor.

Addy frowned. “I realize that. So you’re not willing to consult? I just want to be clear so that I don’t keep that as an option.”

“I’m available if you need me.” And just like that, it was out there. Not exactly the way he’d envisioned this conversation going. He’d been all set to chastise her for flouting his request that she moderate her hours, and she’d ended up subtly chastising him for putting himself above their patients.

And she was right. His embarrassment over his hand did drive some of his decisions. Including being the motivating factor behind calling her into his office a few days ago. It had nothing to do with her patients—or even her well-being—and everything to do with him.

That had to change. Starting now.

“Thank you, Dr.—I mean Garret. You won’t regret it.”

He already did, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, he nodded at the tablet in her hand. “Nothing neurological this morning?”

“Not so far. Just a gator hunter who shot a hole in his boat. But not before the bullet went through his buddy’s foot.”

His brows shot up. “Well, I can’t remember seeing anything like that at my last hospital.”

“You didn’t have hunters in New York?”

He thought of the gangland shootings and senseless loss of life. “We did. But they tended to hunt a different kind of prey, and when they shot someone, it wasn’t an accident.”

“We have that here too.” She sighed. “I wish people were different. Kinder.”

“There are still some good ones out there.” Addy was one of those good ones. He could see it in her work ethic, in the fact that she cared enough about her patients to risk a firm refusal when she’d asked him to consult on cases.

Sometimes, with hospital politics in play, it was easier to just go with the flow and try not to make waves. But that wasn’t always what was best for the patient. Here was someone who was not only willing to make waves, but more than willing to swim against the current. Well, surfers had to do that each time they took their boards into the water, didn’t they? She was just doing what came naturally.

“Yes, there are. Some of those good ones even come from New York City.” She gave a smile that lit up her dark green eyes. Eyes that met and held his for long seconds.

He swallowed. She didn’t know him very well. Because if she did, she’d know he wasn’t good. Not by a long shot.

But even as he thought it, a warmth seeped into his chest that had nothing to do with a defect in the hospital’s climate control system. It had been a while since someone had handed him a compliment that didn’t originate with his position at the hospital. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

Better just to ignore it. And the way that her smile messed with something inside him.

“So what happened to the man in the boat? The one who was shot?” he asked.

“What didn’t happen to him? He fell overboard right after the bullet hit him, dousing his foot with swamp water. Then once back in the boat, he had to bail more water, while his friend drove them back to shore, giving his foot another good dunking.” Her smile widened, and it kicked straight to areas best left alone. “So we soaked it with the good stuff, shot him full of antibiotics and updated his tetanus booster.”

“Poor guy. And it wasn’t even his fault.”

“No, it wasn’t. I don’t think he and his friend are on speaking terms at the moment.”

Eyes that had seemed tired and defeated during the meeting in his office now sparkled with life and laughter. He liked the transformation. He tried imagining her with a surfboard under one arm, water streaming down her back, her dark hair wet and tangled from riding in to shore. That was another transformation he’d like to see. And one he wasn’t likely to.

“I imagine they’re not.” He tried to turn the conversation around before he ended up showing the cards in his hand. Cards he had no business holding at all. “Anyway, about the appraisal. I’ll let the person in charge of the auction know about the necklace.”

“Good. I was hoping to drop it off without making a big production out of it.”

That wouldn’t have happened. “We would have put a notice in the staff newsletter asking for information, just in case the donor had no idea as to its value.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m glad that’s not how things went, then.”

“I can understand that. Now. Its presence at the auction isn’t going to complicate things for you, is it?”

“I doubt my ex will even attend, so no. It was a wedding gift from him to me, so it’s mine to give away. Just like our marriage was his to give away.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

He waited for a nurse to go past, lowering his voice. “He cheated?”

A single nod. “How else do you throw a marriage away?”

He could think of lots of ways. One of which he’d done. Or maybe it had been inevitable, once they’d lost their daughter to a disease that was as relentless as it was deadly.

“Did you try counseling?” He often wondered if he could have saved his marriage if he’d suggested that earlier, before it had been too late. Instead, he’d become unreachable, staying away from home as much as possible.

“Counseling. Right. Would that have been before or after he slept with a mutual friend? Or moved in with her once I discovered what they were doing—had been doing for almost a year.”

“Ouch. Sorry.” The one thing he’d never done during the whole grieving process was turn to someone else. He’d been so destroyed, so emotionally empty that he’d had nothing to give to anyone else, not even his wife.

None of that had changed with time, and he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. The divorce had been his fault—he could acknowledge that now. Some people just didn’t deserve second chances.

“It’s okay. I knew on some level something was wrong. He was unexpectedly called into work a lot of nights—which now I see probably wasn’t the case. Even when he came home, he wasn’t really ‘there,’ if that makes sense. I was dealing with some issues of my own, but if I’d suspected he was that unhappy, I would have done something. Before it got to the point it did.”

Garret, on the other hand, had been able to see the slow slide of his marriage and had chosen to do nothing…except put in grueling hours at work. His wife had left him after the accident, while he’d still been in the hospital, saying she wasn’t going to watch him throw his life away. She was right. He had been. He’d gotten counseling afterward, had tried to convince her to go with him, but she’d refused. And that had been that. Papers had been waiting for him at the house where they’d raised their daughter. Within weeks he’d sold the place, resigned from his practice, and, after a year of surgery on his hand and physical therapy, the offer from Miami’s Grace Hospital had come up and he’d decided to make the move to Florida. But at least his divorce hadn’t been as a result of either of them cheating.

“I’m sorry he put you through that.”

“It’s over. I’m kind of relieved, actually. I’m my own person again.”

“A person who surfs in her spare time.”

She glanced at him. “You’ve really never tried it?”

“Nope. Not ever. Is it like snow skiing?”

“Um, no.” A quick laugh. Although the falling part might be similar. “Why don’t you come with me on Wednesday and see?”

“Excuse me?”

She blinked as if not quite sure what had just happened. “My bad. You’re probably not even interested in surfing. Forget I said anything.”

Addy was asking him to go to the beach with her? The previous image he’d had began tickling at the edges of his consciousness again. Wetsuit? Or bathing suit? He was a jerk for even letting those kinds of thoughts bounce around his head. “I’m interested in a lot of things.”

And that was better?

“So you want to go?”

Better that than admit it wasn’t surfing that was on his mind.

“Possibly. What time, so I can see if I can juggle my schedule?”

She pursed her lips and studied him, maybe sensing he wasn’t being entirely honest with her, then tucked the tablet under her arm and pulled out her phone. She scrolled for a second.

He wasn’t sure what she was doing. “Do you want to text me the time?”

“I’m looking right now. Okay, we want low tide, just as it’s coming in. Looks like the wind direction will be good as well.”

She could have been speaking a different language. “And can you find an actual time somewhere in there?”

“You don’t have a board, I take it.”

“Not of the surfing variety, no.” A flicker of enthusiasm colored her voice and it lit a matching one in him. How long had it been since he’d actually gone anywhere with a woman? It wasn’t a date. But it could be fun. He was allowed to have fun, wasn’t he?

“It’s okay. We can rent a board.”

“Whoa.” He held up a hand. “I’m not planning on climbing on a surfboard. I was just going to watch.”

Like a voyeur.

“You don’t even want to paddle out? You don’t have to stand up, if you don’t want to. You’ll be bored if you just sit on the beach.”

Doubtful. He turned his scarred hand so she could see it. “I’m not exactly able to use this the way most people can.”

“It’ll be fine. Believe me. There are surfers who are missing limbs and still get out there and catch plenty of waves.”

He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be one of them, but he didn’t feel like arguing the point with hospital staff passing them in the hallway. “So what time would we need to leave?”

“Do you want to meet at the beach or here at the hospital?”

“Beach.” The word came out without hesitation. He had no idea if she’d be wearing a bathing suit under her clothes, but he certainly didn’t want to meet out front if she was only wearing some kind of cover-up. The gossip chain would have a field day with it. And there was no way he was showing up in board shorts.

“Okay. Well, the tide should be right and the shops open at around ten a.m. Can you swing it if we meet a half hour before that? We’ll want to go over some basics. Or you could take a class.”

“No. No classes. I don’t plan on making a career out of surfing. But yes, I should be able to make time to come out.”

“I think you’ll like it.” She grinned. “Even if you don’t plan on making a career out of it.”

She tucked her phone back in her pocket and held up her electronic file. “Well, I’d better get back to something that actually is my career. I’ll see you Wednesday at nine thirty?” She suggested the name of a local surf shop as their meeting place.

“I’ll be there.” He wasn’t sure why or how this had happened, but it had. And there was no way he was going to back out and be stuck explaining that his reasons involved a mental tug-of-war over her choice of beach attire. “Anything special I need to bring?”

“Nope. Just yourself and some swim trunks.”

Swim trunks. She’d just cemented every reservation he’d ever had about Wednesday’s trip.

Instead of swim trunks, maybe he should settle for bringing along what was left of his sanity. Because going to the beach with her was not on his list of smart ideas. In fact, it might just be the dumbest thing he’d ever agreed to. But it was too late to do anything but own his decision…and hope for the best.

* * *

Addy pulled her surfboard out of the walk-in closet and ran her hand over the smooth, glossy surface. What had she been thinking asking Garret to go with her? Being with him was hardly going to fill the ticket of taking some time for herself.

She was on edge around him. Had been ever since he’d come to the hospital three years ago. She’d just been careful, because, unlike her husband, her marriage had been important to her.

And look where that had gotten her. Maybe she should have been the first to have an affair.

Her nose crinkled. Not that Garret would have agreed to be her partner in crime. Besides, it wasn’t in her to cheat. She was loyal to a fault. It showed in her friendships, and she’d thought in her marriage.

Except that had all been an illusion. Like the perfect wave. It teased and beckoned you to paddle out and see what it was all about. Only it was rarely as glorious as it looked from the shallows. Up close you saw the imperfections and the flaws hidden within the turbulent whitewater.

And a surfboard was incomplete without a wave, just as a marriage was incomplete without trust. That was something she’d never get back again, even if she’d allowed Leo to stay and they’d gone to counseling as Garret had suggested.

And there was the fact that, once discovered, he’d moved right in with his lover.

Oh, well. That part of her life was over. At least it would be once the divorce was final. The sooner the better.

Picking the board up, she set it on the forbidden bed. She gritted her teeth and forced that thought from her mind. Tomorrow if she had time, she’d wax the board up and get it ready for its first outing since her ex had moved out. Garret was right. She had been working too hard. But the alternative was nights like tonight when she had nothing to do but think. And that wasn’t good.

All she had to do was get through this evening, and then tomorrow morning she could work her shift, come home again and on Wednesday she’d be out on the water. Not alone, but out there just the same.

She wasn’t sure why she’d asked Garret to go with her, but now that she had, she was relieved. Having him there would keep her from backing out and sitting at home brooding the day away. Because she didn’t dare show up at work. He would have her head.

It was up to her to show him that she knew how to cut loose and have fun.

Or at least pretend to. Because deep down inside, with everything that was currently going on in her life, she was pretty sure she was going to be anything but a fun date.

No. Not a date. This was an outing. To prove a point.

How did that saying go? Fake it until you make it? Well, she’d better start faking being a fun-time girl, and soon. Or Garret was going to figure out the little secret that she’d been hiding.

What secret was that? That she had eyes for her boss?

She gulped. No, she didn’t. And it was up to her to prove that once and for all. If not to him, to herself.