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Chapter Nineteen

Nathan

I’m hunched over the large window, staring out into the moonless night at the Pacific Coast Trauma Center waiting room when I feel a heavy hand on my shoulder.

I turn to see it’s Alvin Ling, with two other officers flanking him.

“Hold out your arms, Dr. King.”

“Are you going to put me in handcuffs, Alvin?” I ask.

His eyes twinkle, even though his right one is beginning to swell. “No, you’re already in handcuffs. I’m taking them off you, provided you won’t hit anyone else.”

I look down to see that my wrists are, indeed, shackled, something else I have no recollection of. “No, I won’t.”

“Good. You’re a big man. You can’t go around throwing punches. Mr. Blackwell is currently in surgery for the face you rearranged.” Somehow, the officers don’t look too devastated by that fact.

“And while you should damn well be, you’re unlikely going to end up getting charged for this.” Alvin points to his evolving blackeye. “I believe you will, at the very least, be hearing from my Marta on this matter, though.”

He and the other two officers chuckle, and I look around the room, wondering what on earth could possibly be funny.

Alvin’s partner says, “Once you’re more settled, Dr. King, we’ll need your statement, an account of what you saw and did tonight.”

“Sure,” I say. Maybe I should have been more worried about what that will entail, but right now, all I can think about is Tess. “What’s the latest on Tess?”

Again, I’m not sure how much time has passed between me finding her lying still and peaceful under that water and since she was wheeled into the intensive care unit. What I do know is that every single minute I’ve spent waiting for updates has felt like an entire year.

“They’re doing everything they can for her, Dr. King. I’m sure she’ll pull through.” Alvin uncuffs me, then returns my wristwatch, and they leave.

I go back to staring unseeingly into the black night, regret eating away at me.

I can’t lose her now. We’ve barely had any time together.

We could have had five years if I’d listened to my gut feeling.

The night that Tessa first came on to me, I was sitting in front of Lake Orange where Ciaran drowned, nursing my anger and resentment for John and Mary.

Something tells me that if I hadn’t taken out my grief on Tessa, if I’d listened to her or even relished her need and desire for me, if I had gotten to know the sweet, sexy, and tenacious woman, we would have spent the last five years together.

She would be Tessa King, and far from John Blackwell’s reach.

Fuck.

Perhaps if I’d checked the entire house and found her earlier, she might have stood a better chance…

“Dr. King?” a familiar voice calls, and I turn to see Jackson and Gary approaching in matching goofy sweaters and vinyl pants. In spite of my black mood, my mouth involuntarily twitches, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

Jackson sees the look on my face and has the grace to blush.

“We were out on the town,” he says, like it should explain why they look like a pair of rainbows.

“Even after tonight’s rem party?” It seems like ages ago since Tess and I argued and I left the party.

“Don’t give us the judgy attitude. Part of this is your fault, Dr. King. We always match to celebrate the Friday nights that we’re both off work. Which, I might add, is a rare occurrence.”

I grunt. “Work hazard, I’m afraid. But thank you guys for interrupting your circus plans.” The corner of my lips lifts in a small smile.

“Heard anything yet?” Gary asks.

“No, still waiting.” Patients who have nearly drowned can be so goddamn difficult to resuscitate. A part of me is glad not to have heard from her medical team yet. It means they’re still fighting to save her.

I’m dreading the moment a doctor will come in here with the slumped shoulders and slow walk that means… I mentally shake the thought off, grinding my molars to stave off another flash of pain.

Jackson, who had been watching me and no doubt reading the emotions on my face, suddenly holds out his arms. “Come here.” Instead of waiting for me to act, he wraps his gangly arms round my bulk while Gary pats my back repeatedly.

I throw my arms around them both, surprised by how much comfort I derive from that simple gesture. It will have to go down in history as one of the best group hugs I’ve ever received.

“Does Caitlin know?” Jackson asks, referring to my mom, who is currently out of the country.

“About Tess? Why would she?”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted, Dr. King, she already knows that you’re in love. I’ve filled her in since you’ve had no clue what hit you after Tessa came to work with us.”

I rear back, disentangling from them. “Tell me you didn’t fucking tell her that?”

I wouldn’t put it past my easily excitable mother to begin planning for a wedding the moment she sees me talking to a woman.

Because she’s never seen it happen. Not since before Ciaran died.

“Dr. King,” Jackson states patiently, as though explaining a tough concept to a child, “I could never hide anything from Caitlin, especially not something like this. Bless her, the woman has practically given up on you producing an heir, so she’s thinking of doing it herself! I needed to put her out of her misery.”

Gary nudges him. “Jack, he’s not supposed to know that she told us about the baby thing!”

“Oops.” He doesn’t look the least bit sorry. “Well, all that is in the past since she’s not trying anymore, so we’re good.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Anyhoo. So, does Caitlin know what happened tonight?” Jackson asks me again.

Giving him a deadpan stare, I say in a dry tone, “Why, I have no doubt you’ll fill her in.”

“I mean, she’s far away in Paris, so no need to trouble her for now. We’ll tell her once Tessa is better. And Tessa will be right as rain in no time, don’t you worry.” Jackson places a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I only shake my head, knowing that I have zero control on what news circulates between these two and my mom, so there’s no point in asking them not to say anything. “How did you even hear about everything?”

“Marta called us,” Gary replies. “She sends her prayers to Tessa. She also says she won’t be speaking to you because of Alvin’s black eye. And you know she’s the queen of death by silent treatment.”

“Fuck, don’t I know it.” Marta Ling will exact her pound of flesh for me punching her husband. Granted, I didn’t know it was him at the time, but she’ll still make me work for her forgiveness.

Perhaps a peace offering of flowers, chocolates, and a paid leave might be a decent start to trying to get the head of my treatment unit fully back on my side.

Jackson and Gary sit and start playing cards they got from the nurses’ station to keep themselves from going crazy with worry. I just go back to staring outside into the bleak night, losing myself once again to my thoughts.

Tess needs to make it. There are so many things I want to show her. Tell her. Do with her.

After about another hour of waiting for news on Tessa’s condition, Chris from Ninth Life shows up, followed by two women.

I don’t even bother to ask how he knew to come, putting nothing past those two clowns playing cards in the corner.

He comes straight to me, and without saying a word, pulls me into a hug. I gratefully accept his embrace, patting him on the back, too.

“You came?” I check the time to see that it’s 2 a.m.

“Of course, as soon as I heard. I live about fifteen minutes away from here.”

He puts his arm around the tall, pretty blonde beside him. “Meet my wife, Milly. Darling, this is Nathan King, Tessa’s friend and CMD of the Fount.”

I take her hand, barely able to mask my shock and relief that he has no interest whatsoever in Tess.

Chris smirks at my reaction, and I’m sure he knows what I’m thinking. Thankfully, he chooses to introduce the other woman he came in with instead of calling me out. “And this is my sister, Isabel.”

“Hi, Nathan.” Isabel’s grasp is surprisingly firm when I shake her hand, and even though I can see that she’s been crying, there’s a wicked twinkle in her eyes and a knowing smile on her lips. She knows me.

I don’t remember ever treating her, and I don’t sleep around, so there’s no chance of that, either.

“I’m a first-year surgical resident here. Tessa and I have been friends since our pre-med year at UCLA.”

“That’s wonderful,” I say, “it’s very nice to meet you.”

And at once, I realize how she must know me. If they shared their teenage fantasies, then Tess most likely told her about me.

I look from Chris to Milly and back at Isabel. These people are more than Tess’s friends. They are her family. I can tell that much from how concerned they appear and how quickly they came once they found out.

“Do we know how it happened?” Chris asks.

A hard look enters my eyes. “It was an accident.” He looks down at my bleeding knuckles, then back up at me. He says nothing and just nods. “We’ll wait with you.” He leads the women over to a few chairs to sit down, then gets them water.

Tim and Diane are next to arrive—again, no doubt thanks to Jackson and Gary—and in another hour, the emergency room staff very kindly offers our growing group a private waiting room.

I wouldn’t have minded staying where we were, but Jackson already accepts on behalf of everyone. They didn’t want our presence at the ER to become social media fodder since Chris and I are considered celebrities.

I can’t even scoff at that. The last thing I need is Tess’s privacy invaded by meddling fans and money-hungry lurkers.

By four in the morning, sandwiches and coffee are being passed around. I don’t eat or drink anything, my stomach in tight knots over how long it’s taking to get her stabilized.

I clench my fists, refusing to imagine that the ER team still hasn’t brought her back yet. The smarting in my knuckles reminds me of something else that I’ve blocked out of my mind.

John Blackwell.

It’s because of me that she got hurt in the first place.

If she didn’t come to work for me, she’d be far away in Boston, making waves for Guardian Angels elsewhere. With how brilliant she is, I have no doubt that she would have received multiple other opportunities to lead a campaign.

But she had returned to destroy the brick wall I’d built around my heart. To show me once again that I was wrong about love being a deadly poison.

“Tessa Blackwell’s group?” A tall, handsome man in scrubs comes into our private room. I know he’s the doctor because he introduced himself to me several hours ago, only I didn’t register him at the time. I straighten from the window sill I’ve been leaning against.

“Yes?” I rush to respond.

He acknowledges everyone but makes a beeline toward me. My heart already lurches with hope at his tired, but confident stride. “Dr. King—”

“Nathan,” I correct.

“Nathan. I’m Max. Trauma attending.”

Max Montaigne. I remember now. Son of the renowned neurosurgeon, Louis Montaigne. “Talk to me, Max.”

“As you know, she suffered a cardiac arrest, and she was touch and go for a while. Bottom line, though, she’s recovered now.”

“Thank God!”

There’s a chorus of relieved sighs in the room.

Max continues, his face growing serious. “Now, she’s not out of the woods yet. She will remain in the ICU for now. The good news is she wasn’t down for very long, and she was submerged in warm water. Plus, she got high-quality CPR before the ambulance got there.”

“Okay,” I say, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve been a doctor for too long and can recognize when there’s a dash of bad news to go along with the good.

“We’ve had to start therapeutic cooling just to be on the safe side, and we won’t start rewarming her for another few hours. But she’s in great hands, Nathan, and I’ll do my best to see that she’s back in your arms in no time.”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what that last part was all about.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” He chuckles. “I tried speaking to you earlier, and all you kept saying was how she’s the love of your life and you want her back.”

I see. The old me would have felt embarrassed, but now, all I care about is Tessa’s well-being.

Seeing that there’s no use in denying it, I nod. “I was a little delirious, but it’s true.”

“It’s understandable, considering the situation. But she’ll pull through,” he reassures me.

Then, he turns around to face everyone else and says a little louder for the group, “So, if you want to go home and come back later, we’ll hold the room for you.”

“No, that’s okay, Dr. Montaigne,” Jackson replies. “We’re all staying here. No one’s leaving.”

“Come on, Jack, you can’t speak for everyone,” Gary protests.

“Well, is anyone bailing?” Jackson looks from one face to another, almost daring anyone to contradict him.

“You’re such an ass, Jack.” Gary gently pushes him backward. “Here’s what we’ll do. We can take turns going home to refresh.”

“I should imagine—” Jackson argues, but I wave my hand to stop him.

“Alright, guys,” I interject before they get into an actual argument. “The room is ours. Tess is going to be fine, she’s just not up to seeing anyone yet. I love that you’re here for us both, but please, go get a bit of rest and return later.”

I look everyone in the face, letting them see my genuine gratitude for them staying at my side for as long as they have.

I turn back to let Max know that we’ll sort ourselves out, but I find him, Milly, and Chris huddled together in a group hug.

Max’s arms are thrown over each person’s shoulder, and I realize that the Deans must be related to him somehow. That’s how they knew Tess was here.

Only Isabel remains apart from them, sitting stiffly by herself, but I note how furiously she blushes as Max sends her scorching glances over Milly and Chris’s heads, even while updating the couple about Tess’s condition.

Isabel is the one Max would rather be holding. Chris’s baby sister and one of his residents at work. Fucking hell.

And when the hell did I start noticing these things? Marta always said how two people could literally be humping each other right before my eyes and I wouldn’t have a clue what they were doing.

Looks like I’ve just hopped onto the bandwagon of people like Marta—and Jackson, Gary and the rest of the crazy-in-love crew.

I smile ruefully. I’m all in now. I want Tess with me. All of her, in exchange for all of me, for a very long time.

I know she likes me a lot and she finds me attractive, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be ready for the same thing.

One can never tell with Tess Blackwell.

I return to my spot by the window and stare out into the night, waiting for the dawn of a new day.