Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Keene, who was quietly listening but not commenting, smiled.
I narrowed my eyes at him and said, “Don’t think we forgot about you, Keene. We’ll figure it out, and that’ll just be at an inopportune time for you. Wouldn’t you rather share with us now and not be embarrassed?”
Zip snickered.
Crimson giggled.
Tony crossed her arms and lifted her eyebrows.
Hannibal, who was now rubbing his face against the baby in his arms, grinned wickedly.
But it was Simi who said, “Just let him be. When we figure out who it is he’s seeing, we’ll just make his life a living hell then.”
Keene’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t dispute the charge.
That’s when I realized that Keene had a crush.
“It’s a race to the finish, isn’t it?” I said to no one in particular.
Felix threw his arms around my shoulders and said, “So do we have time to get married at a church? Or should we just elope?”
I looked over at him. “Once upon a time, I wanted a huge wedding.”
He grimaced.
“But now, all I want is something small and intimate that has unlimited cake,” I told him.
His eyes sparkled as he said, “I think we can handle that.”
I knew we could.
CHAPTER 20
I saw. I came. I had anxiety. So I left.
-Text from Felix to Val
FELIX
“You have Robby back in room four.” Lori smirked as she handed me the chart.
I nearly groaned, snatched the stupid chart out of her hands, and stomped out of the nurses’ station.
Fucking Robby.
God. Dammit.
When I was halfway there and through going over his most recent test results, I felt my eye start twitching.
“Robby,” I said as I yanked the curtain open to his room. “Your blood sugar level is four hundred.”
Robby, who’d been coming into the ER for the last three months, looked up at me and shrugged. “I’m doing my best to manage it.”
“Well, you’re not,” I told him, not pulling any punches today. “You’re at dangerously high levels.”
He rolled his eyes, and I only seemed to get angrier.
See, I loved treating patients. It was my passion.
What wasn’t my passion was when I gave medical advice, and the advice was completely disregarded the moment they walked out of the hospital after getting a temporary fix for their ailments.
Like Robby here. I’d seen him come into the ER two times a week. Sometimes more.
And each fucking time, his sugar levels in his blood was dangerously high.
“I know, I know. But I’m trying,” he said as he reached for the fucking Route 44-sized drink on the table next to him that definitely wasn’t something sugar free.
I walked over to him, took the drink out of his hand, and poured it into the sink.
He started sputtering and tried to move toward me, but he was so sick he could barely do that.
“This ends now,” I said. “The next time you come in here, it’s going to be worse. And one of these times, you’re not going to walk out of here.”
“I’ll walk out of here right now!” he bellowed from his perch on the gurney.
“Good!” I said sarcastically. “Enjoy it! Because one of these times, I’m going to have to amputate your fucking leg, and you won’t be walking out again!”
Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘fucking’ to a patient. But there was only so much bullshit I could shovel in a day, and I was way past that.
Robby started sputtering more, throwing his hands up. “I’ve been seeing a doctor!”
“Well, is that doctor named Dr. Pepper?” I asked. “Because you obviously aren’t taking his advice! Just like you’re not taking mine!”
His eyes narrowed. “This is fucking bullshit.”
“Well, you want to know what else is bullshit? The fact that you have four kids at home, a wife who loves you, people who depend on you, and you’re in here treating your body like shit because you can’t take the freakin’ time to take care of yourself!” I argued.
The man didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
Douche.
Robby sighed. “I’m trying, Doc.”
No, no he wasn’t trying. If he was trying, he would have lower numbers. If he was trying, he wouldn’t be back in my ER for the third time this week. If he was trying, his wife would be at his side instead of at home with the kids because Robby was too embarrassed to tell her he’d fucked up again.
“Try harder. Because I’m serious. You’ll die. Then they’ll be screwed because all of them depend on you,” I told him. “Do better, Robby.”
A throat cleared, and I looked behind me to see Val standing in the doorway. “Can I help?”
The anger that was slowly simmering over instantly cooled.
Yes. Yes, she could fucking help.
“Yes,” I replied tightly, not angry at her intrusion.
She walked into the room, brushed past me purposefully, trying to calm me down, and then said, “Tell me what’s going on, Robby.”