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Fuck, I missed her. I rub my hand over my face and wince, forgetting about my bruises. This is probably a good thing. I made enough of an asshole of myself in the early hours while she stitched me up. I’m sure she is happy to see the back of me.
The doctor does his duty of checking my vitals and telling me I need to come back in a few days for the stitches to be removed before he signs my papers.
“You’re free to go,” Ian says with a grin as he looks between Benji and I. I nod to him in thanks as he retreats, before I slide off the bed and change.
“I think I prefer Doctor Wakeford too,” Benji says, eyeing the door where the two men just left.
I look at him as I change quickly, then I grab the rest of my things before the two of us walk out the door. Because as much as I have enjoyed Doc these past few hours, I want to get the hell out of here.
8
Catherine
I rush to my sister's place, where she has breakfast waiting for me. God, I love her. Eighteen months younger than I, Maggie has it all together. A husband who is a professional accountant—one of which she works for as a well-paid accountant herself—a gorgeous child, and the pristine white picket fence. Yes, my father is extremely pleased with Maggie.
Me? I am a mess in comparison. Yes, I have an amazing job that pays well, but it leaves me too tired for anything else apart from Ivy. I always have a to-do list a mile long and suffer from rushing woman's syndrome, where I am always running from one thing to another. This morning a stark reminder of that.
Slumping at Maggie’s kitchen table, I rest my head in my hands. I am exhausted. I always am after a night shift, but with managing Carter all night, I had less rest time than usual, and I feel like I could sleep for days.
“Rough night?” Maggie asks me as she slides a fresh cup of coffee across to me, and I sit up and feel my body relax as I smell the comforting aroma.
“Yeah. Saturday nights always are,” I reply, my voice devoid of all energy. How am I going to survive this day?
“You don’t have to come to soccer, you know? I can take Ivy with us,” she says, pursing her lips. She really is the best sister.
“I know. But it is her first game, and I really want to be there.” I sip my coffee, willing the caffeine to work a miracle as it flows through my body.
“Here.” She slides over a plate with a freshly made omelette, the kind with lots of cheese and bacon, greasy and buttery deliciousness. My mouth immediately waters.
“I love your omelettes,” I moan as I take my first bite. Maggie is not only my sister, but my best friend. I love her to eternity and back, and I knew leaving New York and moving here to be closer to her would help heal my wounds.
She takes a seat next to me, watching me with concerned eyes.
“I’m fine, really. Just a busy night with a demanding patient,” I say, answering her look.
Her eyebrows rise at that. “Patient? Were you working on the floor last night?” she asks in surprise. While Maggie isn’t a doctor, we grew up with a surgeon for a father, so she knows the lingo and how odd it is for an ED Department Head to be still working directly with patients. It is a rare occurrence, although I do tend to make a habit of it. I like to keep up my skills but also show the other staff that I am still willing to roll my sleeves up.
“Yeah. They requested me.” She looks at me, puzzled. I wait for the penny to drop, and it does.
“Something to do with Dante?” she whispers as she leans in, even though it is 7am and no one else is awake. Her eyes flit around the room, and I need to stifle my laugh because she is acting like the FBI is listening and about to pounce on us at any moment. I tell my sister everything, so stitching up the girlfriend of a mob boss and supplying him with the bullet for hundreds of thousands of dollars was not something I could keep to myself. It would have eaten me alive.
I nod silently. “His name is Carter. Needed a few stitches and tests after a fight, nothing too dramatic. He was… nice.” My mind wanders back to the man I spent time with last night and how his body is now firmly etched into my memory.
“Only nice?” she presses, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes glued to me over the rim of her cup. I raise my eyebrow to her in question.
“The blush on your cheeks right now as you remember him makes me think he was a little more than nice, dear sister?” she mocks me with widening eyes.
“Yeah, well, he is brothers with Dante, soooo…” I can visibly see the air whipped from her lungs.
“Shit.”
I hum in agreeance as I take another bite of her amazing omelette, letting the activities of the past twelve hours come back to me. I’m not able to reconcile any of it yet, but knowing that Carter is now long gone and I will never see him again. I’m not sure why, but that thought disappointments me. Although we clearly had a connection, I thought it would have deteriorated the minute I left the hospital parking lot this morning. But it still lingers, following me even now, hours later.
As I take the last bite of breakfast, my face splits wide into a grin as I see Ivy running toward me from the hallway, and she tackles me in my chair. Oh, my little girl. Eight years old and full of attitude, outspoken and kind and smart. I love her so much. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.
She loves staying with Auntie Maggie and playing with my niece, Abby. The two of them are around the same age, go to the same school, and play soccer together. It’s nice to see them get along so well; it reminds me of my sister and I.
“Hey, sweetheart, how was your sleepover?” I ask her, squeezing her tight. It was only a twelve- hour shift, but any time away from her leaves me feeling empty.
