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Since the jerk has an affinity for speaker calls, I take a breath and drop back into doctor mode as I answer, “Dr. Sexton? What can I do for you?”
“It’s not for me,” he bites back with a tone most at the hospital would attribute to all the stress he’s under.
I get that being a trauma surgeon comes with its own unique set of challenges, but Logan’s pissy attitude toward me has nothing to do with his job.
“I have a patient who needs a cardiac consult.”
“Dr. Whitman is on call,” I inform him.
“The patient requested you.” He exhales harshly. “Make it quick, Dr. Morgan. He needs surgery on his back. He’s suffered third degree burns in an apartment fire. His heart isn’t in great shape.”
“Name,” I spit out. “What’s the patient’s name?”
If he requested me, he knows me, or he knows of me because of my reputation. I want to walk into the ED with his name at the ready so I can offer him the comfort I sense he’ll need.
“Brokenshire,” he says. “Bart Brokenshire. Seventy-nine-years-old.”
“Fuck,” I whisper. “I’m on my way.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Eloise
A rattlingnoise stirs me from sleep.
I’m reasonably sure I was in the middle of a dream about riding a whale with Stevie. That has to be because we played one of her favorite games during dinner.
Astrid, Stevie, and I each took a turn adding a word onto a story that Stevie started. We’ve played the same game countless times before, but today it was especially hilarious because it centered on Stevie and I on the back of a whale while Astrid took pictures from the shoreline.
I start to close my eyes again when the same banging sound echoes through my apartment.
Someone is at the door.
Pushing my hair back from my face, I swing my legs over the side of the bed until my feet touch the cool hardwood.
I’m only wearing a white T-shirt and a pair of pink lace panties. I tugged both on after I took a shower before bed.
I glance at the screen of my phone on the bedside table to check the time. I wince.
“I’m coming,” I call to whoever is trying to break down the door to my apartment in the middle of the night.
The last time it happened, it was the building’s superintendent. He ran in to warn me that the water was being shut off because of a broken line down the block. I ended up camping out in an extra bedroom at Astrid’s brownstone for two nights.
It started as an inconvenience, but ended as a slumber party.
“What is it Norvin?” I ask as soon as I’m at the door.
I like Norvin, but the man doesn’t need to see me dressed like this, and the door is thin enough that you can carry on a full conversation through it.
“Who the fuck is Norvin?” A deep voice growls from the other side of the door. “Let me in.”
It’s Gaines.
It’s just past three a.m. and he’s essentially ghosted me for more than a week. Obviously, he had a good reason, but how much effort does it take to punch out a two letter text saying hi?
I need to play it cool, so I swing open the door, determined to not drop to my knees the second he’s inside.
Before I can do anything, he’s coming at me with solid steps.
