Page 4 of Saving Love (Pulse Medical #2)

EMILY

E mily tossed a pair of scrubs onto her bed, her mind already running a mile a minute, despite it barely being seven a.m. She’d already clocked a four-mile walk on the treadmill this morning and was just about to get herself a green juice.

“I don’t want to go to physical therapy,” Emily moaned, walking into the kitchen.

It hadn’t taken Dr. Meissner long to figure out that Emily had walked out of her first and last physical therapy session.

The second he’d caught wind of it, he’d summoned her to his office.

No subtlety. No sympathy. Just the proclamation that if she didn’t reschedule, there’d be significant consequences.

Worst case scenario, Dr. Meissner would revoke her surgical privileges.

So, she’d done the only thing she could do—booked a new appointment for the following week, giving herself a bit of time to sort out her head.

But of course, time had a way of speeding up when you were trying to avoid something. Before she knew it, the week had slopped by, and she was staring down a morning therapy session with Bette Bridge.

“You need to go,” Tessa said, wagging a finger in Emily’s direction.

Her best friend and former med school roommate turned current roommate, Tessa Birdy, was stretched out on the couch, her long limbs taking up way too much space.

Her yoga mat was crumpled up in the corner, along with a pair of leggings that had clearly seen better days.

“That shoulder’s not going to magically heal itself, Em,” she added.

“Even I know that, and I dropped out of med school in our second year.”

Emily groaned. “Well, the one thing they don’t teach you in med school is how to be a good patient.

” She shoved her hands through her hair, tugging at the strands for a second before she huffed a breath and headed to the fridge.

“The last thing I need is some physical therapist lecturing me about healing.”

“I get it,” Tessa said, sitting up. “But you’ve been through a lot recently, physically and mentally. You need help. Plus, I’ve seen you go full bulldozer mode in the past but it’s not working this time. You need to accept help.”

“Says who?” Emily retorted even though she knew her friend was right.

Among all the bad decisions that had led Tessa to be broke and crash in Emily’s second bedroom, she had an uncanny way of calling her out on her own stubbornness.

She did need to go to therapy. Even if the idea made her skin crawl. Even if she didn’t think she could ever look at Bette in the eye again.

“Says me,” Tessa replied, her lips curling into a smile that was far too knowing for Emily’s liking. “And, honestly, says your body. You’re a doctor, Em. You should know better. You can’t just power through this like you do with everything else.”

Emily snorted as she rummaged through the fridge, searching for the bottle of cold-pressed apple and lemon grass. “I’ve managed to get by just fine, thank you.”

“Exactly,” Tessa said, stretching her skinny arms above her head. “You’re not living. You’re just getting by. And trust me, it’s not working.” All of a sudden, she leapt up and rushed to the kitchen. “I know exactly what you need.”

Emily didn’t ask her what she meant, not until after she’d grabbed the green juice from the fridge and took a long swig, letting the cold liquid cool her throat. Only when Tessa began bopping up and down on her heels, did she finally surrender. “What exactly do I need?”

“You know,” Tessa started, eyeing Emily in a way that didn’t mean anything good. “You’ve been single for like ever. Maybe it’s time you found someone. Maybe that will give you enough motivation to get that shoulder fixed.” She made a scissors gesture with her fingers.

Emily nearly choked on her next sip.

Of course, she knew what Tessa meant. The last time Emily had sex was weeks before the accident.

And that was with a fling she’d met at a club never to be seen again.

She couldn’t imagine using her arm again for its intents and purposes.

It would seize up and hurt. Emily would no doubt embarrass herself if she had to stop mid-fingering.

She shook her head. “Really? You want me to add find a love interest to my to-do list, right after go to physical therapy .”

“I mean,” said Tessa, shrugging, her golden blonde hair bopping on her shoulders. “What’s life without a little bit of romance? It’s been eight weeks since your accident and now you’re doing the one thing you shouldn’t be doing. You’re trying to bury yourself in your job.”

Except Emily wasn’t.

How could she immerse herself fully in work when she couldn’t operate?

She was an orthopedic surgeon, for god’s sake.

The last week she’d spent doing consults, fielding calls, and staring at X-rays while her shoulder throbbed in protest. And as each day went by, it felt like she was losing a little more of herself, of her purpose, her passion.

She hadn’t just been sidelined from the OR, she’d been sidelined from everything that made her feel alive.

“I don’t have time for anything like that,” Emily said, turning her back to her friend to toss the empty juice bottle into the trash. “I’ve got more than enough on my plate already without juggling romance.”

“But don’t you miss having someone arou––” Tessa started.

“I’ve got you around,” Emily cut in, hoping they could put the conversation to bed. “You’re here when I get home. Why do I need anyone else? I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

Tessa leaned forward on the countertop, elbows propped on the speckled marble.

“You’re always saying you’re fine. But I’ve known you long enough to know that fine isn’t the same as happy.

And seriously, Em, if you’re not letting anyone in––well, except for me––then how are you ever supposed to be happy?

Your job doesn’t love you back. It never will. ”

Emily’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to acknowledge that her job wasn’t everything or that she was avoiding dealing with the mess that was her personal life.

“I’ve got to get going,” she said quickly, already rounding the kitchen island to the living room.

“I’ll pick up takeout on the way home,” she added, not bothering to glance back at Tessa who no doubt was staring at her with that disappointed look on her face, as she walked into her bedroom to change.

She didn’t need to hear more. She just needed to get in her car and head to work. Put as much distance between herself and that conversation. Unfortunately, that also meant heading to her physical therapy appointment this morning.

It was a quick walk to the elevator and Emily could already hear the distant hum of downtown coming to life when the glass doors shut behind her. Her penthouse had the most glorious views, but she rarely had time to actually enjoy it.

Was she really a workaholic? Was she just diving back into the rat race of her life as an orthopedic surgeon? But wasn’t that the nature of the job?

For some reason, Emily actually cared about what Tessa had said about her and her lack of personal life, her tendency to bury herself in work.

So much so that the drive to work felt like a blur.

Her mind was too busy. Her thoughts were all over the place.

When the bridge stretched out ahead of her, the view of the water sparkling beneath the early morning sun, she was barely distracted.

It was only when she arrived at the hospital and parked her car in her designated spot that she remembered her appointment with Bette.

Taking a few deep breaths and checking her face in the rearview mirror––twice––Emily made her way into the hospital and up to the rehab center, already dreading the hour ahead.

The doors were open and when Emily walked in, she felt that familiar knot in her stomach. It wasn’t that Bette was intimidating—or maybe she was. But it was more so the idea of being scrutinized, of being evaluated like she was

“Good morning, Doctor Sharp,” said the woman behind the receptionist's desk. She was young, no doubt, with her hair sleeked down the middle and blush on her cheeks. “Bette will be with you in a minute. She said to head to bed number six.”

Emily gave a nod, wondering why she hadn’t called in sick or canceled altogether.

This was a catastrophe waiting to happen.

With a last glance at the exit, she meandered to bed six and sat down on the plinth.

The rehab center really needed an upgrade.

She’d seen better ones at other hospitals with private treatment rooms. Not to mention the equipment was all outdated––

“Well, look who actually decided to show up on time,” Bette remarked, interrupting her thoughts. There wasn’t a hint of bitterness in her tone, just the opposite actually, yet Emily still felt the comment like a sting on her side.

“I’m usually very timely,” she replied, straightening her spine. The only reason she’d been late last time was because she had paced back and forth in her office debating whether to show up at all. “Last time was just an…anomaly.”

“Right,” Bette said, her smile bordering on the amused. She pulled the curtain closed and dropped the clipboard on the chair beside the bed. “Let’s get started. I didn’t get a proper assessment last time, so best we do that first.”

Emily’s stomach dropped all the way down to her hips––or so it felt.

She wasn’t sure why the sudden discomfort.

Was it because she anticipated pain in her shoulder?

Or was it because the only way for Bette to do a proper assessment was to get close again, to enter Emily’s personal space, to touch her with those long slender fingers?

“If you’ve got a tank top on underneath your scrubs, please slip that off,” Bette instructed.

“I’m wearing a bra,” Emily said, feeling stupid for not thinking her outfit through. Of course, she needed to expose her shoulder. It was the only way for Bette to assess her shoulder properly.