Page 30 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)

TOMMY

The fluorescent lights in the hospital waiting room buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting everything in a sickly pale glow that made the beige walls look gray. I sat in the same hard plastic chair I’d claimed six hours ago, staring at my hands.

They’d finally stopped shaking.

The blood under my fingernails had dried to a rusty brown, and somewhere in the back of my mind, the doctor part of me noted that I should wash them properly.

But I was a brother, too, and to that part of me, moving seemed impossible. Every time I tried to stand, my legs felt like they were made of water.

I thought of the thousands of family members I’d talked to in the ER over the years. People whose shoes I’d never truly been in. Until now.

I was one of the fortunate ones. Hazel was stable.

The surgeon had been optimistic about her recovery.

The femur fracture would heal cleanly with the titanium rod they’d inserted, and the head trauma was thankfully minor—mostly swelling that was already responding to treatment.

She’d been lucky. We’d all been so damned lucky.

So why did I still feel like I was going to throw up?

“Tommy.” Foster’s voice cut through the fog in my head. He was standing beside my chair holding two cups of coffee, though I couldn’t remember him leaving to get them. “How are you holding up?”

I looked up at him and tried to form words, but they felt stuck somewhere in my throat.

Foster’s face creased with concern, and I realized that, like me, he was still wearing the same clothes from our emergency response—tactical pants and a SERA shirt, now rumpled and stiff with dried sweat and rain.

He’d stayed. Through the entire surgery, through hours of waiting, through me being completely useless. He’d stayed so long his wet clothes had dried to his body. He’d just… stayed.

I let out a shuddering breath. “She’s okay,” I managed finally, my voice coming out hoarse. “The surgeon said?—”

“I know.” Foster sat down in the chair next to mine, close enough that our knees almost touched. “I heard the update. That’s not what I asked.”

I stared at the coffee cup he pressed into my hands, watching steam curl up from the surface. When had I become so cold? “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” The word was gentle but firm. “When’s the last time you ate something?”

I tried to remember and gave up with a shrug. Breakfast felt like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know. ”

Foster’s jaw tightened, and he pulled out his phone. “Ella and Alex agree I should take you home.”

“Oh?” I blinked around, half expecting my cousins to still be in the waiting room with me. “Where’d they go?”

“They’re trying to convince Avery to get some sleep.” He studied my face with those observant hazel eyes. “Tommy, you need to do the same. Hazel’s going to be fine, but she’s going to need you at full strength when she wakes up.”

Before I could respond, I heard Alex’s familiar voice as he and Ella walked up. “Listen to the sheriff, Tommy. You’ve done your part. Now it’s our turn.”

“I’m okay,” I repeated automatically, even though we both knew it was a lie.

Alex and Ella pulled me up for a big group hug, creating a brief cocoon of family warmth that made my chest ache. “How’s Avery?” I asked

“She and the baby are great, with the exception of a little seat belt bruising. You already know this. She won’t leave, so they’re setting up a bed in Hazel’s room for her.”

Ella stepped back and really looked at me for the first time, taking in my muddy, bloodstained clothes and whatever my face was doing. “Jesus, Tommy, you stink.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious. You need to get out of here and let us take over for the night shift.” She turned to Foster, who was watching our family reunion with careful attention. “You might need to hog-tie him.”

“I’ve got cuffs in the truck,” Foster said dryly. Then he turned to meet my eyes and bounced his eyebrows suggestively where no one else could see him.

I was too tired to do more than huff out a breath of laughter.

“I’m taking you back to SERA whether you come willingly or not,” he warned in a voice that was no longer teasing.

Now, that… that did something to me, even if his mention of the cuffs hadn’t. I swayed a little closer to him without thinking.

“You’re dead on your feet,” Ella scolded, using the tone she’d perfected when we were kids and she was trying to talk me out of staying up all night studying. “Hazel’s going to murder you if you collapse from exhaustion and steal her thunder.”

“Besides, she’s stable,” Alex added, opening one of the containers he’d brought and releasing the smell of something that made my stomach growl loudly. “The hard part’s over. She just needs to rest and heal now.”

Ella gently pushed me back into my chair, then perched in the chair beside me. She put her hand on my arm. “Okay, I need to say this, so just hear me out.”

Alex muttered under his breath while I shot a glare at Ella. I was pretty sure I already knew what she was going to say, but I let her continue anyway, mostly because I was too tired to argue.

“You leave for your interview tomorrow?—”

I began shaking my head after the second word. “No way. I’ll tell them what happened. They’ll understand and reschedule?—”

Her hand tightened a little on my arm until I met her eyes. “Tommy. Summer is when people go on vacation, which means rescheduling it anytime soon with the hiring committee will be nearly impossible.”

“Ella, I’m not fucking going. What you’re suggesting is?—”

Alex cut me off. “Smart. And because we knew you were going to refuse, the whole damned family is turning up here at first light to make sure Hazel is covered. The only reason they’re not already here is because of the storm, but now that the weather is clearing, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jude’s plane is already in the air. ”

I felt the weight of Foster’s silence on my other side. The deliberate choice to stay out of a “family matter.”

The lack of his input—arguing either side—struck me as annoying and wrong, which made no sense at all. He wasn’t part of my family. Or my future.

I glanced at him anyway. Because silly wishes were like that, and I was too tired to pretend.

He was looking down at his phone. It took me a moment to register that the screen was blank.

Ella continued her argument. “You know there are level one trauma docs here. People who know how to care for broken legs and post-surgical patients. This is not a rare medical disorder for which Thomas Marian is the only prodigy with the skills to care for this patient.” She lifted her chin at Foster.

“You’re going to let this guy take you back to SERA for the night.

Then you’re going to go to California. After you get back from your interview, you can visit Hazel at home. ”

Ella was right. I was scheduled to fly out in the morning, meet with the department chair for dinner, and then spend the following day touring the hospital, meeting the other stakeholders, and finishing out the panel interviews.

Chances were high Hazel would be back home recovering by the time I returned, and there was nothing to indicate she was high-risk for complications.

She was also right when she said rescheduling the interviews would be an inconvenience for quite a lot of people.

But this was my sister. And I was a doctor.

Foster stood up, and something in his posture shifted—from neutral bystander to someone taking charge. “Let’s go.”

I looked between them—Ella with her determined expression, Alex pretending patience while most likely waiting for more fireworks between me and Ella, and Foster standing guard by my chair, radiating that same measured strength he’d shown all day.

“You need to get some sleep, Doc. Let’s start with that.”

Something in his voice—a promise, maybe, or just the absolute certainty that he knew what the next right step was—made the last of my resistance crumble.

“Okay,” I whispered.

Ella’s face flooded with relief. “Thank god. I was about to start mixing sedatives into your coffee.”

Foster’s hand appeared on my shoulder, warm and steadying. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Home . The word hit me strangely. When had Cabin 8 become home?

The drive back to SERA passed in a blur of dark mountain roads and the steady rhythm of windshield wipers against light rain. I sat in the passenger seat of Foster’s truck, clutching the cooling coffee Foster had given me, and tried to process everything that had happened.

The accident. The surgery. Foster staying with me through all of it, never once suggesting he had somewhere else he needed to be. The way he’d taken control of the scene, the way he’d protected Hazel’s privacy from reporters, the way he’d simply… been there.

“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice barely audible over the engine.

“For what?”

“For driving me through the storm. For being right about needing lights and sirens. For staying . For—” I gestured vaguely, unable to find words for everything he’d done. “All of it.”

Foster glanced over at me, something soft and unreadable in his expression. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Yes, I do. You didn’t have to?—”

“Tommy.” He reached over and briefly covered my hand with his. “Yes, I did.”

The easy assurance in his voice made my chest tight with something I wasn’t ready to name. Something I was sure Foster wasn’t ready for me to name.

By the time we reached the cabin, I felt like I was moving through thick water.

Everything seemed muffled and distant, including my own thoughts.

Foster unlocked the door, and Chickie bounded toward us, tail wagging frantically, but even her enthusiastic greeting felt like it was happening to someone else.

“Shower,” Foster instructed, guiding me toward the bathroom. “You’ll feel better once you’re clean. ”