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“Hello, Mr. Sully. This is Les Wilder. I apologize for the delay in returning your call. I haven’t spoken to anyone about the details of…what I did.”
She wasn’t counting Brick. He was different. He was like talking to herself. Maybe a currently more objective version of herself. That was probably an exaggeration, based on her vulnerable state, but she couldn’t deny her faith in the feeling. She wasn’t going to doubt it right now. Not when she was doubting everything else.
“The incident,” Martin Sully corrected her.
He asked her a few questions, though he surprised and relieved her by not having her do a play-by-play of what happened that night. “Your chart notes were thorough,” he said. “Your resident and attending corroborated them. If you’re pulled into any legal hearings, we’ll do more in-depth prep. When will you be back?”
“The M&M is next week, so I told Dr. Portland I’d be there for that. That’s okay, right?” She hoped he said no. She should be there, but a weakness she despised in herself cringed at the idea.
“In theory, M&Ms are supposed to be private and the information shared at them inaccessible to the plaintiff. For now, plan on being there, but also plan on seeing me that morning. And stick with the advice I left on your voicemail. No talking to anyone about the matter. Not your fellow med students, your roommate, and especially no one who could be involved in the case. Nurses, attending, resident. They’ve all been given the same guidance, so no one should be initiating discussion with you about it.”
He paused. “Under no circumstances are you to have any contact with the patient’s family. Let me know right away if they or their attorney reach out to you.”
“They have an attorney?”
“Yes. They have secured one.”
Her heart roared in her ears. Les forced out the words. “Will she sue the hospital? Mrs. DaCosta.”
“That’s pending. If so, the attending and resident who were on that day are more likely to be named in the suit than you. Your actions are considered their responsibility. Any other questions?”
Jack and Dr. Redmond would pay for her mistake.
“No.” She forced the word through stiff lips.
“All right, I’ll stay in touch. Hang in there, Miss Wilder. A lot of doctors face this. Some more than once in their careers.”
She barely made it to the downstairs bathroom. Pancakes, chocolate and eggs were not an awesome combination on the return trip.
Halfway through the expulsion, Brick’s hands were on her back. Cliché or not, as he collected her loose hair in one hand and held it back, she felt relieved he was here. When she sat back on her heels, he had a cup of tap water for her to rinse her mouth.
Surfing tsunami-sized waves of stress had made her a gold medalist at distraction tactics. His body, clad only in shorts and athletic shoes for his workout, was the most available and useful one.
She’d seen him shirtless plenty of times when he and Rory were in high school. Teenage boys, particularly school jocks who were also farm boys, weren’t shy about baring their upper torsos.
Elaine made Rory and his friends wear shirts in the house, but Les spent more than one afternoon watching them practice football plays or shoot hoops behind the house. She’d observe from the cover of her bedroom window, her gaze fixed on the ripple of muscle through Brick’s back and thighs. When they played basketball, they used the rusty hoop screwed to the side of the barn.
Later, she’d relocate to the porch swing with her homework, pretending not to listen as they lounged on the steps, drinking sodas. Brick’s hair would be damp at his nape, making her want to touch him there. He’d had a scattering of freckles over his shoulders.
Those had faded away. He’d been big then, but as she’d noted the day he took her to dinner, he’d filled out even more with adulthood. His shoulders and chest had well-defined muscle groups that didn’t seem bulky. His sheer masculinity was a blatant, unapologetic thing, yes, but the grace and flow to it were like the poetry he read.
Up close and personal, it couldn’t help but raise a woman’s sexual awareness to full alert. Les wanted to sample him with tongue, teeth, and anywhere else skin to skin contact could be made. She’d slide her fingers through his chest hair, tangle and tug it.
You just threw up, she reminded herself.
He was stroking her arm, his gray eyes assessing how she was doing. He didn’t press her with questions, but she suspected he’d been tracking her side of the conversation, picking up enough to make a rehash unnecessary. She’d been able to hear the clank of weights from the living room.
Brick helped her to her feet, then picked her up off her shaky legs and carried her to the utility room. Unspoken message: I’m finishing my workout, but keeping my eye on you at the same time. She shouldn’t be okay with leaning on him so much, but his proximity reassured her.
This wasn’t a large area, but in addition to the water heater and electric panel, it contained a beat-up sofa, a small flat screen and his weight equipment.
The sofa was covered in an appallingly ugly gold and black plaid. “A college heirloom,” he informed her as he put her upon it.
“Do I need a tetanus shot to sit here?”
“Don’t be hating on this old girl. It was my favorite study spot in the basement of my college library. When they renovated, Mrs. Wisnet, a librarian with a soft spot for brainy jocks, asked me if I wanted it. Stay there.”
He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with ginger ale and saltine crackers. He popped the top of the can for her. “These should help.”
