Page 17 of Love Medley (Med Wreck Romance #1)

Jake sends me a wry smile, squeezing back before letting go. “Thanks. You really get it, and that means a lot.”

Then a thought occurs to me. “Wait, where did you go to medical school?”

“Blackwell,” Jake says, affirming my suspicions. “But you and I would never have met because I think I quit just before you started.”

We quickly compare dates, and he’s right. He dropped out after his second year, and I would have started August of that same year.

It’s crazy we were on the same track for a while, and we just barely missed each other.

For a brief second, I imagine what my life would've been like if I had met and dated Jake instead of Weston. But then I immediately stifle that thought because there’s no point in imagining a different reality—I have to figure out how to live in this one.

“What made you decide to switch to nursing?”

“While medicine's the right place for me, nursing is a more natural fit for me, better suited to my level of capability.”

I frown. “You make it seem like you became a nurse because you didn’t feel good enough to be a doctor. And after seeing you in action, I don’t think that's the case at all.” I hate that his father makes him doubt himself.

Jake hesitates, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

“I guess sometimes my dad gets in my head, but you’re right.

Being a nurse isn’t just a runner-up prize for me—I really do love being at the bedside doing the physical work of taking care of patients, in a way I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as a doctor. ”

Jake’s warm manner and relaxed way of conversing must put patients at ease—it certainly does for me.

I feel more comfortable around him than I ever have with Weston—and I immediately avoid unpacking that thought.

“For what it’s worth, I think changing over to nursing suits you in the best way possible. ”

“Thanks.” His smile is genuine and open.

All of a sudden, I remember what I was supposed to tell Jake. “Speaking of your amazing nursing skills, I’m supposed to pass along a thank you from Tanya, our shared patient.”

Jake’s eyebrows rocket skywards. “Why?”

“Because you were your typical amazing self,” I say.

Jake is endearingly oblivious to how wonderful he is, and that makes me even more motivated to boost his confidence. I’m grateful he lets me see behind his self-assured mask. I have a feeling he doesn’t usually let it slip.

“You made sure that she was okay when Weston did his Ortho consult. I never thought about how his presence would affect her, but you did, so thank you. I’m so glad she had someone to look out for her.”

Jake coughs while shifting in his seat. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“In a busy ER? With a million other people to take care of? No way.”

Jake’s eyes cut to the side as he changes the subject. I can tell that he doesn’t know what to do with compliments. “When I saw Tanya, she seemed pretty closed off. Did she tell you she was abused?”

“No,” I say. “The scary thing is—I’m not sure I would’ve known she was abused had I not gone through a similar experience myself. Apparently, there isn’t a standard way to screen for physical abuse in the ER.”

“Really? That seems…counterintuitive. Why isn’t there?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, chewing on my lower lip. “Dr. Simons, my attending, told me that the current method of screening for abuse is a paper questionnaire that the triage nurses hand out in the waiting room.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “A paper questionnaire?”

I glance at him. “You didn’t know either?”

He shakes his head, comprehending the source of my confusion.

“Triage nurses focus on the initial assessment of patients as they come in the ER and prioritize which ones should be seen first, which is a different role than mine inside the ER, which is mainly to care for the patients once they’re in a room.

I had no idea this was part of their evaluation. Although it makes sense.”

“Oh, I see.” I pause for a moment, thinking.

“And the ER is where most of these people will come to seek medical care, so it’s the right place to do the screening.

But we’re not doing a very good job. I mean, how many people actually answer those questions honestly?

There must be a better way to identify high-risk individuals. ”

As I speak, a spark of excitement that I haven’t felt in a while ignites in my chest. I wonder what the medical literature says about abuse screening. There has to be something, right?

“Dr. Simons is the head of the clinical research division,” I muse out loud. “Maybe I should email her and see if there are any ongoing projects on abuse screening.”

“You should totally do that,” Jake says. “I bet you could easily be added onto any pre-existing project. Several studies are currently enrolling patients in the ER, but I only started a few months ago, so I’m not sure exactly what they are.”

Anticipation edged with uncertainty thrums in my chest. Maybe I should hold off—am I really capable of taking this on? Weston wouldn’t think so. But maybe he’s not the best judge of me.

Out loud, I say, “It’s been a while since I’ve embarked on anything of my own. ”

“Well, you are more than making up for it now. First a fake boyfriend and now a clinical research project. The world is your oyster.” Jake’s side grin reveals an endearing dimple.

At the sight of it, a giggle escapes me—have I been doing that more lately? Could Jake be bringing this out of me? Did I ever feel this bubbly sort of effervescence with Weston?

“I’m certainly embracing new and unusual ventures. If you told me a year ago that I’d be fake dating a guy to get rid of an ex, I’d think you were nuts.”

“I’d be happy to be your guinea pig any day,” Jake says.

“And you’re also getting something out of it too,” I remind him.

Jake immediately nods. “Yeah, that's true.” But there’s something off about his tone.

With a pang, I bet his brother dating Sam is even more painful than he’s let on. From what little I know of Jake, he seems to hold a lot of emotion inside. I’m surprised by how much I want to ease that burden.

“I know Sterling didn’t know you dated Sam before he asked her out, but does he know now?” I ask tentatively.

“That’s a good question,” Jake winces, another crack in his facade showing. “I actually don’t know. I guess I just assumed that Sam told him.”

Ah. I was right. Poor Jake is hurting bad. “But wouldn’t he have called you or texted you? Something?”

“We don’t really talk,” Jake reminds me. “So I wouldn’t expect that from him, no.”

“Well, when is the next time you see him? ”

Jake hesitates for a beat, and I realize maybe this question is a bit more loaded than I intended. “Family dinners at my parents’ house were when I typically saw Sterling, but I haven’t seen anyone in my family for a while.”

“Why? Because of the whole dropping out of med school thing?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to either Sterling or my dad since I told my family in February.”

February?! And his family is local. My heart absolutely shatters for Jake. What is wrong with his family? Jake deserves better.

“But…that makes no sense! It’s not like you aren’t doing anything with your life.

You just did something different!” But even as I’m speaking, I realize that I’m not that surprised.

Because haven’t I’ve always done what my parents wanted?

To avoid this very reaction? After having a front row seat to their disappointment in Peter, I’ve had no desire to experience it myself.

But Jake—he forged ahead, staying true to himself, no matter the cost. That took guts I don’t have.

Jake just shrugs. “It is what it is. Sorry, I think I got us off track.” He clears his throat, switching topics again. “I’m assuming you were born in America, but maybe that’s not a fair assumption.”

I appreciate the way Jake brings the subject up, and he actually has a legitimate reason for asking.

A lot of people ask me if I was born here, and I’ve gotten so sick of the question that I purposely misinterpret the question and tell them no, I wasn’t born in Blackwell, I was born in Texas.

This way they're forced to admit they actually meant to ask if I was born in America.

The other question I love (can you hear the sarcasm?) is “What are you?” How is that an acceptable question?

I’m a human being, you know.

Jake grimaces. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. That was rude.”

I shake my head, rushing to reassure him. “No, the opposite. Not only do you need to know this info, but that’s the most polite way I have ever heard anyone bring it up. You know, Weston called me a ‘twinkie’ on a regular basis.” Oh crap, that just slipped out.

Jake immediately rears back. “What the fuck? Tell me there’s some kind of inside joke I’m not privy to.”

I blink. “Maybe Weston thought it was funny,” I say slowly, feeling out the words.

“But I’m realizing that it bothered me more than I was willing to admit at the time.

I’m third-generation Chinese, so I’m fully Americanized.

My parents understand Mandarin but don’t speak the language, and I only understand a couple of words.

It’s definitely something I’ve struggled with—straddling the line between what I look like and how I feel inside.

Weston’s pointing out that I was Asian on the outside but white on the inside wasn't a joke to me…it’s my reality. ”

Jake’s jaw clenches. “You really don’t need to give me any more reasons to go along with this fake date. At this point, I’d do it just to see that look of disbelief on Weston’s face again. I’m not a violent guy; I’ve never hit anyone in my life. But Weston is tempting fate—he may just be my first.”

“He…seriously won’t know what hit him, pun totally in tended!” I gasp.

The joke isn’t that funny, but the laughter still just erupts from me, overtaking me, my body shaking with so much mirth it can’t be contained.

Jake follows with his own unrestrained laughter.

When both of us trickle to a stop, we just look at each other again and burst out laughing again.

I’m sure everyone in the coffee shop thinks there’s something seriously wrong with us, but for the first time in ages, I couldn't care less about what anyone else thinks.

Weston would have hustled me out of the coffee shop in a fury.

“Okay, okay,” I say, attempting to calm down. “I’m going to have a stroke if I laugh any more. But I’d love to see Weston get a taste of his own medicine.”

Jake looks amused. “You’re really on a roll with these puns.”

“Stop, stop,” I gasp, laughter overtaking me again.

After a beat, I take a deep breath, but I'm grinning like an idiot the entire time. “But that’s for Tuesday. Tomorrow, we have shifts that overlap with Sam. Are you okay with some smouldering glances near where she works? Maybe some sweet nothings whispered in your ear?”

Jake grins back. “Sounds good. Get your game face on.”

“Definitely.” For some reason, even though I’ve relatively calmed down, my heart races when I think about flirting with Jake tomorrow.

I’m seriously looking forward to it. I just know Sam will want Jake back as soon as she sees him with another woman.

And then I wonder…do I really want that to happen?