Page 51 of Best Kept Vows (Savannah’s Best #6)

Elias

R eggie!

Seeing her again almost brought me to my knees.

She was still the same.

Even in those shapeless light blue scrubs that made almost everyone look sexless, Reggie looked sensational. She used to wear her hair in a braid, but now it was shorter—pulled back into a sleek ponytail that only made her cheekbones sharper and her presence more arresting.

No one who looked at Regina Sanchez didn’t think she was beautiful.

But it was more than just good looks; something was alluring about the way she smiled, moved, talked— everything .

Five years ago, I’d wanted her with a madness that I hadn’t understood. I was eight years older than her—more experienced, and yet when I was with her, she could all but bat her eyelashes, and I’d give her anything she asked for.

When she fucked up the way she did, it had crushed me. I wanted to protect her, but I knew Maren, we’d known each other our whole lives—and if she said that Reggie had been negligent, then there was no arguing that for me.

Maren didn’t lie.

And Reggie had been young, two years out of nursing school. I’d seen her make mistakes, so it wasn’t a stretch that she’d fucked up the way she had, costing a man his life.

If she’d just admitted it—I could’ve forgiven her.

We all made mistakes.

But her vehement denial, her accusation of Maren…that was too much.

I knew why she went after Maren. There were rumors about her and me then. We’d broken up a year ago and had remained friends, which had fueled the fires. Reggie never asked me about Maren; she just accepted that I’d grown up with her and were close.

I never suspected Reggie was so insecure.

Fuck! I should never have accepted this position.

I knew she was here—and still, this was a career opportunity I couldn’t turn down.

But I also couldn’t bring myself to work with someone like Reggie.

Incompetence was one thing, but refusing to take responsibility?

That was unforgivable. You can’t fix what you won’t admit.

You can’t grow if you pretend nothing’s broken.

I had thought that Cindy would be happy to get on the same page with me—because I’d been sure that someone like her would have already discerned Reggie’s lack of competence. But no, Cindy had come guns blazing, defending Reggie.

It had been a shock.

When I took the job, I decided I’d sideline Reggie, and she’d leave and find some other substandard hospital to work at. I guess everyone had to make a living, and so did Reggie, but not at Harper Memorial, one of the most prestigious cardiac units in the country.

Damn it! What the fuck was I going to do? She was different now, tougher.

She’d been emotionless throughout my conversation with her boss. That wasn’t who she used to be.

She’d come into my office after the M you didn’t have to go after her career because you’re fucking insecure.”

She looked at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”

I sighed wearily. “Maren told me, Reggie. I know.”

“Know what?”

“That you threatened to ruin her career and tried to do exactly that. I…you disgust me.”

She took two steps back from me, and for a moment, I did believe her. But I knew Maren, had known her my own life—I wouldn’t be swayed by pussy no matter how great it was.

“I never said anything to her,” she whimpered. “I didn’t, Eli.”

“Reggie, get the fuck out of my office, and if you’re smart, you’ll stay away from me and this profession. I’m sure you’ve been told you’re fired from Stratford. You’ll be lucky to work in Boston.”

“Eli, don’t do this,” she pleaded. “I love you and ? —”

“Get the fuck out, Reggie, and have some self-respect. You were just a fuck—we weren’t in a relationship. You think I go about fucking women I care about in supply closets?”

It was a lie, but I wasn’t going to be weak when it came to her. We had been in a relationship. The best I’d ever been in. Damn it! Why couldn’t she be what she’d shown me? Honest, intelligent…someone with integrity…instead, she was just the kind of person I despised.

“Someday, you’ll know.” She wiped her tears. “When you do, Eli, don’t expect anything from me.

“Reggie, all I expected from you was pussy…and I don’t want that anymore.”

The woman I’d seen in my office was nothing like that Reggie.

This one didn’t wear her heart on her sleeve.

This one didn’t have that laugh, the one I’d fallen in love with—rich and honest.

This Reggie barely smiled.

There was something painfully distant about her. She had a reputation, I’d found out, Ice Princess. She was cold and competent in the OR. Nothing rattled her. I definitely didn’t. But she had turned me inside out.

I exhaled sharply and scrubbed my hand over my face, willing the memories away.

My hospital phone buzzed against my hip.

A secure message from the ER flashed across the screen: CODE STEMI – 43 y/o male – unstable. Requesting cardiac consult. ETA 3 min to Trauma Bay 2.

“Shit,” I muttered, already moving.

“ Dr. Graham ,” came the overhead voice a moment later. “ Cardiology consult, Trauma Two. Dr. Graham to Trauma Two .”

When I pushed through the double doors into the trauma bay, the energy in the room was that of controlled chaos. The patient was being wheeled in from the ambulance, unconscious, pale, and diaphoretic, with leads already on his chest.

“Mid-forties male. Witnessed collapse at work,” the EMT reported as he steered the stretcher in. “Unstable vitals. BP tanked en route. ST elevations in V2 to V5.”

“Anterior wall MI,” I said, eyes on the monitor. “Get cardiology and cath lab prepped. Page Dr. Xu—tell him I’ll meet him there.”

The ER attending—a woman I hadn’t met yet—nodded once. “He just lost his pulse.”

“Let’s transfer him to our gurney,” I ordered. “On the count of three….”

The team moved fast, sliding him from the EMS stretcher to the ER bed with a transfer board on a coordinated count. Tubing, leads, and IV lines moved with him.

“Starting compressions,” the trauma nurse called.

Two residents jumped in.

“1 milligram of epi,” I ordered. “Get the Lucas device. Manual CPR won’t hold during transport.”

The machine was wheeled in. I leaned over, checking femoral access and assessing his airway. “Run a full panel—cardiac enzymes, troponin, CMP, CBC, type and cross.”

“Crash cart’s ready,” the nurse said.

The man’s body jolted under the first shock. Still no pulse.

“Okay,” I snapped. “We’re not waiting. He needs emergent PCI. I’ll take him myself. Call the lab and tell them we’re coming up. Clear an elevator— now .”

A trauma resident hesitated. “We’re transporting him while coding?”

“He’s not going to make it otherwise. Let’s move.”

The elevator ride was a blur—the Lucas device cycling, the patient’s chest rising and falling with each compression.

I kept my eyes on the monitor.

Dr. Xu met us outside the cath lab, but I was already giving orders.

“Going radial. Prep access. If there’s occlusion, we stent fast.”

The doors opened. I stepped into the one place I trusted most. Fluoroscopy lit up the screen—LAD, 99% blocked.

A widow-maker.

“There,” I barked. “Stent it.”

The team moved like they’d done it a thousand times. Ten minutes later, perfusion was restored.

ST segments settled.

The EKG leveled.

A soft voice of a resident called out, “We have sinus.”

I exhaled. “Good job everyone.”

An hour later, I stood in the hallway outside the cath lab, peeling off my gloves, adrenaline still humming under my skin.

This was what I did. I worked in a world of data, not feelings.

In the OR, people didn’t argue about mistakes from five years ago or how badly you’d fucked up someone’s life.

You just made hearts beat again.

And, yet—despite all that, I don’t have feelings bullshit—for some reason, ever since I saw Reggie again, my ticker was on overdrive.