Careless(13)

“Now is not the time to ask questions. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father’s heart problems, it’s that you never interfere when doctors are talking. Let them figure this out.”

“Did you see her face? She looked calm, right?”

Carter’s eyes lock on mine. “She’s direct, Jax. She would’ve told us already if there was nothing she could do for Marcus. I trust her. She’s going to save him.”

I believe him. Not because he’s one of my best friends, but because it’s Leigh we’re talking about.

I chuckle cynically as I say, “The life of the person who means the most to me lies in the palm of the girl I screwed.”

“If I were you, I’d apologize before she gets her hands on his heart.” Carter shakes his head. “Now you understand why I said she’s off limits.”

When we walk into Marcus’ room, Leigh is busy writing something in the file.

“Can you let me know as soon as the results come back for these tests?”

“Certainly,” Dr. Barnard answers. “I take it you will be staying for a couple of days?”

They walk out together, and it stings that she didn’t even look at me.

I’m going to have to catch her alone. I have to talk to her before she leaves. I have no idea what I’m going to say, but I can’t just let her disappear out my life again. I need to see if there’s anything still between us.

∞∞∞



LEIGH



Sitting in the dark, I watch as Marcus sleeps.

He’s high risk. If he dies on my table, it will destroy everything I’ve worked hard to achieve over the past few years. It will destroy my credibility.

Even if he survives the surgery the odds that he’ll survive thirty days post-operation isn’t good.

He wakes up and looks at me for a while before he says, “No one will blame you.”

“For what?”

“Come on, Doc. We both know there’s no way I’m walking out of here.”

Doc.

Jaxson never called me that in front of Marcus. Does that mean they talked about me?

I stand up and slowly walk to the bed. I look down at Marcus. I stare into his eyes until he lets me in.

I see despair mixed with hope, and his strength fighting against the bleakness of his situation.

“You have two options, Mr. Reed. You can give up and die in this bed, or you can ask to be transferred to my care.”

A fire ignites in his eyes as he asks, “What will happen if you take me on as a patient, Dr. Baxter.”

“You will live.”

There are no certainties in this life. It’s something Dad has repeatedly tried to get me to believe. We’re taught not to make promises to patients. We’re trained to avoid using certainties where risk is involved.

“I believe in facts. I will remove the fragments, and you will not die on my table. Your psychological state plays a big part in recovery. Do you want to live, Mr. Reed, or have you already given up?”

“Of course I want to live,” he growls.

“Good. I’ll take a chance on you if you are willing to take a chance on me.”

“Leigh,” he whispers, clearly exhausted, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“You should be released in three days. They’ve stabilized you. You need to rest, Marcus. I’m going back to California. I’ll arrange with Carter to bring you to California on the twenty-sixth.”

I pick up my bag, and as I prepare to leave, Marcus says, “He loves you.”

I take a deep breath and smile at Marcus.

“Your heart is the only one I’m interested in, Mr. Reed. Have a good night’s rest.”

As I step out of the elevator and walk towards the exit, I slip on my jacket. I decide to walk back to the hotel I’m staying at while calling Dad. It’s freezing outside, but refreshing at the same time.

“Hi, Daddy. Did I wake you?”

“No, I was just thinking about you. How’s your trip?”

“It’s good. I’ll talk to you about the patient when I get home.” I smile as I continue, “I had my first solo today.”

“You did? Sweetheart, that’s wonderful. How did it go?”

“No complications.”

“I’m proud of you. I wish your mother were here to see how well you’ve done. She would’ve been proud.”

“Me too, Daddy.” I clear my throat and force a smile to my face. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Would you like to come over for dinner on Friday evening so we can celebrate?”

“Of course. I’ll bring wine.”

“Try to get some rest. Bye, Daddy.”

I drop my phone back into my bag and wrap my arms around myself to ward off the cold. As I walk into the lobby of the hotel, I see Jaxson sitting in the reception area. While he’s looking at his phone, I quickly walk to the elevators. I press the button and watch as the numbers change.

Come on.

I suppress the urge to glance over my shoulder.

Please. Please. Please.

The elevator dings and I impatiently wait for a couple to exit. As I step forward, I feel a hand on my lower back.

Shit.

A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that the hand belongs to Jaxson. He follows me into the elevator, and I press the number for my floor.

My eyes scan the reception area, hoping someone will come running towards the elevator, and we won’t have to ride alone.

No one joins us and the doors slide shut.

His hand moves to my hip and then his chest presses against my back.

It’s been almost six years. Jaxson belongs to a time of confusion and heartache. I didn’t understand why Mom had to die. I didn’t understand what happened between Jaxson and me. I still don’t.

What I do understand now, is that I blamed Jaxson for the pain I suffered that day. I blamed him because it was easier than admitting that I felt something more than hate for him.

I don’t believe in the romantic kind of love fairytales teach us about. People believe they fall in love when it’s only elevated hormone levels because they like what they see.

Hate is a strong word, and it’s one I’ve really considered when it comes to Jaxson West. I’ve settled for intensely disliking him. Asking me to forgive Jaxson, is like asking me to willingly sit through a root canal.

I dislike him because he had no problem taking my virginity before tossing me aside. He walked away from me when I needed someone most.

For a blinding moment, he made me believe there could be such a thing as love.

He leans into me and presses his cheek against my hair. I hear him take a deep breath and I close my eyes.

I haven’t had a chance to get a good look at him, but he still feels the same.

“Hi, Doc,” he whispers. His voice is deep and rougher sounding than I remember. It still has the power to send goosebumps racing over my body.

“Jaxson,” I say, glad when my voice sounds normal.

The elevator stops on my floor and the second the doors open, I dart forward. I can feel him right behind me as I walk to my room. I swipe the keycard and push open the door, walking to the bar so I can get some water.

“I’d offer you something to drink, but you won’t be staying long,” I say as I take a bottle of water from the fridge.

“How have you been, Doc?”

I’m angry that I’m the only one affected by this meeting. I’ve thought about Jaxson a lot over the past years. They say when you lose someone their voice is the first thing you forget.

I can’t remember what Mom sounded like. I can’t remember her smile. Lately, I’ve been struggling to picture her face.

That didn’t happen with Jaxson.

I turn around and face him. He’s standing in the middle of the living room, and I can see every inch of him clearly under the fluorescent light.

His hair is still all over the place, and it looks hot. He’s taller than I remember. The suit fits his muscled body perfectly. My eyes stop at his chest where the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. His tie hangs loosely around his neck.

There is no smirk around his mouth as my eyes travel up.

The same mouth kissed me.

Our eyes meet, and it feels as if an electric bolt strikes right through my heart.

Those eyes made me promises he had no intention of keeping.

“Let’s skip the niceties and get to the point of why you’re here.”

He shoves one hand in his pocket, and the other goes to his chin. I hear the bristliness of his day-old stubble as he scrubs his palm over his jaw.

I don’t remember him being so serious. Suddenly I have a need to see if his smile still looks the same.

“I’ve just come from seeing Marcus.” His hand drops to his side and worry instantly clouds his face.

I remember that look.

My breathing speeds up as memories flash through me. He had that same look when he saw me standing at his front door.

“Can you help him?” he whispers as if he’s too scared to even ask, never mind hear the answer.

“Yes.”

He jerks as if I slapped him, instead of giving him good news.

His breathing speeds up, and when his eyes start to shine with unshed tears, I realize he’s overwhelmed. He stalks toward me, and before I can stop him, he yanks me to his chest. His arms lock around my body, and he lifts me off my feet. I grab hold of his shoulders with the full intention of pushing him away when he presses his face into my neck and cries.

His body shudders against mine. I don’t have it in me to push him away. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and cradle his head. I give him the comfort he once gave me.