Page 41 of Dr. Stone (Billionaires’ Club #9)

THIRTY-FIVE

Jace

Jake and I had done everything for our patient, Thomas Whitaker.

Every damn compression, every stitch, every call…

and we still lost him. The eighty-one-year-old retired literature professor had handwritten letters to his wife every Sunday since they first met, and he continued to do so even after she passed away from a stroke a few years back.

Men like him no longer existed in real life; they belonged in Nicholas Sparks novels.

At least, that’s how I felt about the sweet man.

To make matters even more heartbreaking, his daughter had flown in from Boston just to sit beside him after surgery. Damn it, he wasn’t supposed to die—not on our goddamn watch.

Jake leaned forward, bracing his forearms against the edge of the sink in the scrub room, his jaw tight, head bowed. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice low and frayed. “I swear to God, I thought we had him.”

“So did I, Chief,” I said, but the words felt empty.

The truth was, I knew we were losing him the moment the rhythm on the monitor slipped for the second time. I’d felt it; it was like the tide pulling away from the shore.

Jake took losses hard; he always had. He carried them like a debt he couldn’t repay. I held mine more quietly, burying the emotions deep inside. But somehow, they always found a way to surface later, either in the middle of the night or just before sleep, when my subconscious let down its guard.

Jake didn’t say anything else as we changed. He just gave me a short nod and walked out, still haunted. I wasn’t far behind him. I was trying to get out of this place as quickly as I could so I could clear my head.

“Stone,” I heard Collin Brooks holler, walking toward the main hospital entrance as I exited.

“Hey, man,” I said, forcing a smile. “Coming on shift?”

“My favorite thing in the world,” he smiled, a protein bar in one hand, coffee in the other. “Are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

I exhaled. “I’ll be fine. Jake and I just lost one,” I shook my head. “Our first surgery was flawless,” I tightened my lips, “but Death had no intention of leaving without this gentleman today.”

Collin took a long sip of his coffee, then nodded. “I’m sorry to hear it. Sometimes that’s just how the fucking reaper operates. The thing no one prepares us for in medical school is that doing everything right doesn’t always mean you get the ending you want. How’s Jake holding up?”

“You know how he handles this shit,” I answered.

“Yeah, he handles it about as well as someone spending a full day at the DMV—dying inside but never admitting it,” he said, knowing his best friend too well. “I’ll give him a call. The poor bastard is probably already on the road, stuck in traffic and bitching to himself about it.”

I laughed at how accurate that assessment was.

“Hey, man. I understand what you’re dealing with, but don’t let it crawl into your bones. It’s a gut punch, but you can’t give it the power to take the rest of your day from you.”

“Thanks. It usually doesn’t grab me until later, but I have plans with Andie and her son on my sailboat tomorrow, so I hope that will consume my mind instead,” I answered him.

“Feel it now, buddy, trust me,” he said.

“Don’t let it pop up whenever it wants. That’s what Jake does and why he’s unapproachable for a day.

He forces himself to cope, then he moves on.

You need to train your emotions to follow your Chief,” he grinned.

“I know everyone deals differently, but you should try to let this one go tonight. You don’t want this to bleed onto Andie and the baby. ”

“You’re right,” I said. “I think I’m going to drive this shit out of my system. I’m not letting work get in the way of trying to make her fall in love with me for the hundredth time.”

“Fall in love, eh?” he smiled, daringly. “Looks like we have some catching up to do,” he patted me on my shoulder. “I need to get up to neuro. Go and drive it out of your system, and make sure the kid is asleep on the boat when you two fuck,” he laughed, then turned to leave.

“Thanks, man,” I said, smiling to myself.

By the time I pulled out of the hospital garage, the sky was deepening to a deep blue shade of twilight. I slid into my Ferrari—the one I drove when I needed something extra, such as luck, adrenaline, and distraction—and gunned it down towards PCH.

The engine roared, the wind tearing through me, but that damn loss still clung like a thick, gloomy fog.

For a moment, just before my red light turned green, I thought about canceling on Andie tomorrow.

I was terrified I’d be edgy and dickish because sometimes I was when I couldn’t shake the weight of failure pressing down on me.

But I didn’t. I guess this would be the real and raw part of being in a relationship.

Andie needed to see this side of me to know what it meant to be with someone in my line of work.

What if she didn’t like dealing with the surgeon when he was forced to deal with heavy losses and feeling like a failure?

It was part of who I was, and I needed her to see that.

Then there was Brandon. Just a year old—too young to know what I did for a living, and too young to care that I’d failed to save someone’s father today.

But he wasn’t too young to feel joy on a boat, to giggle when a seagull flew too close, or to fall asleep on his mom’s chest while the waves rocked us.

I smiled at the image, hoping I’d be lucky enough to see that beautiful moment tomorrow.

I wasn’t about to take those moments away from them or me because I couldn’t shake off a hard day. Fuck that.

When I reached my house, the sun was dancing with the horizon, but I chose not to go inside. I didn’t need the silence or the weight of today consuming me within those walls. Instead, I headed straight down to the dock.

My sailboat, my other lady , Via Her , waited like she always did…steady, strong, and forever mine.

I stepped aboard barefoot, welcoming the familiar groan of the polished teak deck beneath me.

I moved on instinct, checking the sails, coiling the lines, and making sure everything was perfect.

Below deck, I double-checked the fridge, which was newly stocked with sliced strawberries, soft cheese cubes, fresh rolls, and those ridiculous toddler pouches I’d bought just in case Brandon didn’t feel like eating anything else.

I’d even purchased and packed a tiny sunhat and a cute baby life vest. Jesus, I was that guy now.

Back up on deck, I leaned against the rail and watched the last of the sun’s light as it melted into the sea. The ache in my chest was still there, dull and constant, but at least the edge had softened.

Tomorrow, I’d watch Andie smile in the sun and Brandon wobbling around the deck like he owned the place.

Tomorrow was a second chance at something good, and those refreshing thoughts were enough to move me forward with confidence and hope for a better day after this day went to fucking hell.