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The hallway’s empty.
Chapter Six
Mark
John Carmichael’s a great hospital director. On one hand, I have to agree with everything he’s saying and if it involved anyone else, I’d probably be finishing his sentences for him.
But if it involved anyone else, I wouldn’t be in this situation. I would have checked in on my patient from the plane, teleconferencing anything that came up.
As for insurance, not my problem, right?
But this isn’t just about my patient, nothing to do with the fact it’s Nick Partridge either.
It’s all about Evelyn.
John has me right up to the part where he demands I leave on vacation like I said I would.
But I realize as soon as he reminds me that I can’t do that.
I won’t.
I’m not going anywhere without Evelyn. That much I do know, and I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to go on vacation with me seeing as her dad just had his heart rearranged so he might live another twenty-five years.
I can sympathize with my boss’s stance, but anything involving Evelyn from now on is under my protection. Something I find myself insisting on with him.
He’s a smaller guy, but most people are much smaller than me, so it’s only natural I tower over him as I lower my voice to explain how things are gonna be from now on to John.
“If it’s about the bill, John. You can send that to me. I’ll pay it in full, and I’m good for it. You should know that,” I growl, bringing my face closer to his as I watch his eyes shift from anger to confusion to fear in a second.
“Also, the patient? He’s an old buddy of mine. If I’d said so earlier you probably wouldn’t have wanted me to do what I do which is save people’s lives, remember? I’ve brought millions into this hospital John and I don’t appreciate you suddenly demanding I do this and do that just because you say so.”
I’m trying to sound reasonable, trying to be calm. But knowing Evelyn is behind the door, that her old man is us hooked up to a spaghetti junction of tubes and wires.
I can’t help it if my presence gets a little too much for the hospital director. Not surprised when he lets me know I’ve gone too far.
“I… I can end you, Love,” he spits. “Just keep pushing me and see how far you get when I push back,” he snaps, moving in closer to my own face, narrowing his eyes, and making sure he holds my gaze.
A standoff I’m not interested in. I just want Evelyn. Just want her dad to be well again.
“You can add my information to that hospital bill if you want,” I tell him flatly. Meaning every word.
Determined to have a life revolving around Evelyn now, not hospitals.
Knowing how much I need to claim her, to keep her.
That’s all that matters now.
I watch the wheels turn in the director’s mind. He can’t afford to lose his star surgeon, and least of all can’t afford to have me running my mouth about what a dick he was in the end.
It would ruin the hospital and it would ruin him.
Simply by me not being here would have more damaging effects than anything he can threaten me with right now.
On top of all that, there’s a part of me that’s always wondered what sound he’d make if I dropped him off the fourth-floor balcony.
These hands that heal can also hurt. Not that it’s something I want to have to prove to anybody anytime soon. But I hear the man gulp hard as he reminds himself of all these things.
“Just… Take it easy, Mark. It’s been a long day. Go home, go on vacation. I’ll call you in a day or two once we’ve both had some air, okay?” he offers calmly.
But before I can take any air in to even respond, we’re both interrupted.
A nurse at the end of the hall lets me know my patient’s taken a turn for the worse.
“Go,” John says firmly. “But in the morning that patient is being handed over to the relieving surgical team, got it?” he asks in a warning tone, but I’m already striding past the nurse.
I don’t need Nick Partridge dying on me either. He has to be better so I know Evelyn will be happy.
Her happiness is all that matters to me now.
It’s serious but easily fixed.
Once I calmly explain the benefits of Magnesium over Sodium in a cardiac surgical patient to the sheepish recovery staff, old Nick Partridge starts to look a little better straight away. The beeping from all the machines sounding more like a normal person than a jackpot slot machine on full tilt.
“It’s an easy enough mistake to make,” someone offers me defensively, shrinking back once my eyes dart to theirs.
“It isn’t,” I remind them. “And if you can’t tell the difference between Sodium and Magnesium, I suggest you look for another job,” I add bitterly, hating myself for sounding just like John Carmichael, but angry enough to let it stick.
