The Nurse's Brooding Boss (9 page)

“You’re fine.” Brock let out a rough laugh. In an abrupt move, he reached across the table and grabbed her arm, roughly pushing up her sleeve to expose the cut oozing on her forearm. “Sure, you’re fine. If you’re so fine, why are you cutting yourself, huh?”

Lacey twisted her arm from his grip, shrinking further back against the seat. Elana sucked in a harsh breath at the flash of pure panic in Lacey’s eyes. She hurried forward.

“Hi, Lacey, Brock. What are you guys doing here?” She smiled brightly, ignoring the tension as she glanced around. “Where’s Tucker?”

There was a long moment of silence before Brock turned to her. “Tucker has pneumonia; he’s been admitted to Children’s Memorial.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Truly distressed by the news, she glanced at Lacey, who looked much worse than Raine had described her. The poor thing looked as if she hadn’t gotten any sleep in days. “Is he doing all right?”

Brock nodded, again answering for Lacey. “He was admitted yesterday and he’s on IV antibiotics. They’re pleased with his progress so far.”

Lacey’s hand shot out, her fingers curling around the keys Brock had shoved in her direction. “I think I will borrow your car; I do have a few errands to run.”

Brock looked surprised at Lacey’s change of heart. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Excuse me,” Lacey whispered, easing out of the booth. She clutched her ragged purse beneath her arm and left.

Elana watched her for a moment before turning to Brock. “You scared her to death,” she accused as she slid into Lacey’s vacated spot.

“I didn’t mean to.” Brock looked truly bewildered.

“It’s your anger that scares her,” Elana explained. “She thinks you don’t like her.”

Brock scrubbed his face with his hands. He didn’t look as if he’d gotten much sleep, either. “Of course I like her. She’s the mother of my nephew. I’m trying to support her as best I can.”

“Lacey needs to know you don’t resent her. And that you’ll be there for the long haul.”

Brock grimaced. “You’re probably right. The private investigator I hired found where Joel had been staying at a remote cabin in the north woods that my uncle owns, but Joel’s not there now. I’m sure that information isn’t making Lacey feel any better.”

“You’re right, and yet you chose this moment to confront her about the cuts on her arm.”

“Am I supposed to ignore what she’s doing to herself?” he asked. “Why do you think I was so insistent that she take the keys?”

She let out a heavy sigh. Brock’s intentions had been good, but his technique needed work. “I don’t know what to tell you. Lacey needs help. Maybe there are some counseling services for low-income families. I’ll ask around, see what’s available.”

“Thank you,” Brock said quietly. “I appreciate your help.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. She knew
she should go back up to the ED to work on her modules, but she didn’t move. She hadn’t seen Brock alone since the night they’d worked together and he’d lost his young patient.

Since she’d told him she’d forgiven him.

Since she’d realized he’d planned to sacrifice his own life in order to save others.

“Elana, did you mean what you said?” Brock’s intense gaze bored into hers. The noisy, crowded cafeteria faded away, making her feel as if they were the only two people in the room. “About trying to find a way to forgive me?”

“Yes.” She flashed a crooked smile. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget when we’re sitting here like this, talking about Lacey and Tucker. But other times—” she gave a helpless shrug “—it’s not as easy to forget. And then I find myself thinking the worst.”

Brock nodded, his expression serious. “I understand. And I want you to know how much it means to me that you’re willing to try. You were right, though, to do it for you, not for me.”

She almost shook her head because he was wrong. Brock needed her forgiveness as much as she needed to give it. What a messed-up pair they were.

She bit back a protest when he stood. “I have to get back to Tucker,” he said in a low voice.

Stifling her regret, Elana stood too. “Are you working tonight?”

“Yeah, although you’ll probably be glad to hear I’m working a shorter shift; I’m splitting the time with
Nathan Forrester.” His lopsided smile did funny things to her stomach.

When he turned to walk away, Elana realized, with a start, that he was wrong. Again.

She wasn’t glad to hear he was working a short shift. As irrational as it was, she looked forward to working with Brock.

She missed him when he wasn’t there.

E
LANA
was assigned to the trauma room with Brock. From the beginning of their shift, it was busy. Their first two patients were elderly women with severe flu symptoms.

It took a while to get the patients admitted to the ICU, where they belonged, because every critical care bed was full. Finally, after almost two hours, Elana was able to transfer both patients upstairs.

By the time she’d returned, the trauma pager was going off again. Brock met her in the trauma bay, a slight frown marring his forehead.

“Motor vehicle crash,” he said in a low tone.

She nodded, having read the text message herself.

“Get ready,” Brock murmured.

She took a deep breath just as the doors of the trauma bay burst open. Two paramedics wheeled their patient
in, and, as Janey Thompson drew closer, Elana looked down, and her heart lodged in her throat.

Janey Thompson was young. Far younger than she’d expected. Beneath the blood stains and open gash on her forehead, Janey couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.

“Dear God,” Brock said in a low, shocked tone. She knew he was remembering her sister, Felicity. “Give me the latest set of vitals.”

The paramedics rattled them off. “BP low at 66/32. Heart rate extremely tachy at 155 beats per minute. She was intubated in the field, and we’ve had fluids wide open during the ride over here.”

Elana swallowed hard. This young girl already had so many strikes against her. She feared their efforts would be in vain.

“Get two units of O-negative blood in her stat, Elana,” Brock ordered, his expression grim. “We are not going to lose her.”

She believed him. With renewed energy, she reached for the two units of packed red blood cells and hung them on the rapid infuser. Since Eric Towne was preoccupied with another patient from the same crash, she and Brock worked over young Janey together.

As the blood was flowing in, she performed a quick assessment. “Brock, take a look. The right side of her chest is tense and hard; I think she has a tension pneumothorax.”

At that moment, the monitor overhead began alarming. They’d lost her blood pressure!

“Get me an eighteen gauge needle,” he ordered, ripping off the girl’s blouse to expose her ribs.

Elana whipped open the top drawer of the supply cabinet and grabbed the needle. Without taking the time to prep the skin, Brock yanked on gloves and stabbed the needle between the patient’s fourth and fifth ribs.

“It’s working,” Elana said urgently, her eyes glued to the monitor. “Her blood pressure is coming back up.”

“We need a chest tube set up.” Brock’s expression was still tense. “I think she’s bleeding into her chest. And I want a CT surgery consult.”

She was already pulling out the chest tube insertion tray. Brock had taken care of the immediate crisis with the tension pneumothorax, but Janey wasn’t out of the woods yet.

Brock inserted the chest tube, and immediately the tubing filled with blood. Elana called the operator to order a stat surgery consult.

Between them, they worked in tandem over Janey Thompson, giving fluids and blood, for well over an hour. Sweat was dripping down her spine when they finally had Janey stabilized enough for surgery.

“Let’s get her up to the OR,” Brock said.

With a nod, she disconnected the young girl from the monitor above the bed and connected her to the portable device they used for transports. She wasn’t at all surprised when Brock helped her to wheel Janey upstairs.

The surgical team met them right outside the OR doors. With one last look at Janey’s pale face, Elana stepped back and let the OR team take over.

For a long moment, Brock didn’t move.

“You did it,” Elana whispered, touching his hand lightly. “You saved her.”

Brock slowly shook his head, a relieved half smile curving his mouth. “Not just me. You too. We saved her, Elana. Together.”

“Together,” she echoed. Janey had a fighting chance to make it, thanks to her and Brock’s teamwork. Maybe it could always be this way between them? Maybe this was meant to be?

In companionable silence, they headed back down to the trauma room.

Dr Nathan Forrester was already there, waiting for them. “Hey, Brock, I was able to get here a little early, so you’re free to get out of here.”

She struggled to hide her dismay. She’d forgotten about Brock’s plans to work a short shift.

“I appreciate it, Nate.” Brock glanced at Elana, his blue gaze intense, and for a brief moment, he made her feel as if they were all alone in the room. “Thanks again for all your help, Elana.”

“You’re welcome.” She licked suddenly dry lips, wishing he didn’t have to go. She tried to remember they were both simply doing their jobs, but it seemed like so much more.

Because together they’d made an awesome team.

The rest of Elana’s shift dragged by. Not that Dr Forrester wasn’t a good doctor, because he was. But, somehow, working the trauma bay with him wasn’t
nearly as exciting as working with Brock. His intensity drew out the best in the rest of them.

“Elana?” The unit clerk called out to her as she was about to head to the locker room. “You have a call on line two.”

She frowned, wondering who would call her this late. Chloe? She quickened her step and picked up the closest phone. “Hello?”

“Elana? It’s Brock. I need your help.”

Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Tucker? Is he okay?”

“Tucker’s fine, but Lacey’s gone. She’s not answering her phone, and I haven’t seen her since I gave her my car keys at lunchtime.”

“Gone?” Elana frowned. Surely Brock was exaggerating. “Are you sure?”

“I need a ride,” Brock said bluntly. “I’m still at Children’s. Are you able to drive me home when you’re finished with work?”

“Of course. I’m finished now. Give me five minutes, and I’ll pick you up outside.”

Elana hung up the phone, her mind whirling. There had to be some sort of explanation. Lacey wouldn’t just take off, leaving Tucker behind, especially in Brock’s car. Lacey was intimidated by Brock.

There must be some mistake. More likely, Lacey had gone back to Brock’s house and had fallen sound asleep. The poor thing probably hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since before Tucker was born.

She hurried to the parking garage. Minutes later, she
pulled up at the front door of Children’s Memorial Hospital. Brock strode out, and he would have been devastatingly handsome in his worn blue jeans and navy-blue shirt if not for the dark frown etched on his features.

“I appreciate the lift,” he said brusquely.

“No problem.” His broad shoulders bumped into hers as he leaned back and over to put his seat belt on. She grabbed the steering wheel tightly, hyperaware of his overwhelming presence in her small car. Everything felt different now that she’d forgiven him. Especially after the closeness they’d shared working over Janey. “How long do you think they’re going to keep Tucker in the hospital?”

“The plan at this point is to keep him for three days on IV antibiotics before switching him to oral medication. If he does well, he could potentially come home as early as Wednesday.”

“That’s good to know.” Elana glanced at him. “You tried calling Lacey at home?”

“At least a dozen times.” His expression turned even darker, and Elana knew he was thinking the worst.

She didn’t argue because nothing she could say would make him feel any better. Ten minutes later, when she pulled into his driveway, she saw the garage door was closed and there were no lights on anywhere inside the house.

It certainly looked as if no one was home.

Brock jumped out of the car before she’d even put it in park, using his key to access the house. She quickly followed him inside, suddenly feeling extremely appre
hensive. Their young patient, Ariel Peterson, had taken an overdose of drugs. What if Lacey had done something similar?

“Lacey? Are you here?” Brock shouted as he strode through the house, flipping on light switches wherever he went. He headed straight into Lacey’s room but came back out so fast Elana knew he hadn’t found her.

Brock headed through the living room into the kitchen and through to the garage, probably checking the garage for his car. With her pulse pounding, Elana forced herself to check the bathroom, pushing back the shower curtain to look inside the bathtub, making sure Lacey wasn’t lying there. Then she even went so far as to check Brock’s room but didn’t find any evidence that Lacey had been there, either.

“She took off and left her son,” Brock said grimly when they met back in the living room. “I just checked her bedroom again. Some of her stuff is gone, along with the small suitcase she had, but Tucker’s things are all here.”

“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. This truly didn’t look good, and she would have easily bet money that Lacey would never willingly abandon her child. “Maybe she just lost track of time. I’m sure she’ll be back.”

His bark of laughter held no humor. “Yeah, that’s what I told her when Joel took off, and you can see how well that worked out for me. At least Joel didn’t steal my car.”

“You gave her the keys,” Elana pointed out. “That’s not stealing. Besides, even the police wouldn’t do anything anyway, not until she’s been gone twenty-four hours. We haven’t seen her since noon, and it’s close to
midnight now. I’m sure she’ll show up sometime tomorrow.” At least, she hoped so.

Brock rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I really screwed everything up, didn’t I?”

“No.” When he grimaced, obviously not believing her, she shrugged. “Maybe. But Lacey is tougher than you think.”

His shoulders slumped, and he sank down on the sofa, looking like a man defeated. “You were right, earlier. I shouldn’t have confronted her about the cuts on her arm. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Hearing the self-recrimination in his tone, she sat down beside him. “Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. You moved here just to support your brother and Lacey. That counts for something.”

He slowly shook his head. “I lost my temper and snapped at her. No wonder she took off.”

“Do you know anything about her background?” she asked, changing the subject. “Does Lacey have family in the area?”

“I have no idea. She’s been pretty quiet about her past. But I do care about her,” he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “I care about Lacey and Tucker. And I care about Joel too, even though I’ve been irritated with him since he left.”

“Understandable, don’t you think?” she asked softly, taking his hand in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He lifted their clasped hands and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, the soft caress sending tingles
down her spine. She couldn’t have moved away from him now if her life depended on it.

“The minute I realized Lacey was gone, I wanted to call you. This is the second time you’ve come to my rescue, Elana.”

Her mouth went dry, but she tried to smile. “Like I said before, I don’t mind.”

Brock closed his eyes and sat back against the sofa. She sat back too, intending to stay only for a few more minutes. He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. The gesture was nice. Comforting. She should leave to go home, but she didn’t want to. She liked being here with Brock.

Secretly savoring the embrace, her eyes drifted closed, and she wished for the impossible.

When Brock opened his eyes several hours later to see the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows, he realized they’d fallen asleep on his sofa. Elana’s soft body was pressed against him, the curves of her body achingly noticeable through her thin scrubs. Somehow, during the night, they must have stretched out on the sofa, instinctively seeking a more comfortable position.

Her warm vanilla scent teased his senses. Brock knew he should move, especially now that every nerve in his body had zinged to awareness, his groin tightening with primitive need, making his jeans uncomfortably snug. Holding Elana in his arms felt good. Better than good. Fantastic.

He wanted her. More than he’d ever wanted any other
woman in a really long time. He’d been determined to stay away from her, but he was fighting a losing battle. Because he didn’t want to stay away. He liked working with her. The way they’d saved Janey had given him hope. Had made him realize how great it was working with Elana.

Or maybe it was enough to simply be with Elana.

Breathing in her scent, he didn’t move, unwilling to do anything that might bring this slice of heaven to an end. When Elana shifted, pressing her body against his, he held his breath. Her hand splayed in the center of his chest, the heat of her palm burning through the thin fabric of his shirt. He froze, hoping and praying she wouldn’t wake up.

Not yet.

Her hand lightly caressed him, her fingertips making lazy circles that sent a shaft of desire straight to his groin. Holding her like this was pure, agonizing torture.

But he didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Elana shifted again, her lips skimming the line of his jaw, and in that moment, it occurred to him that she might be awake.

Was it possible?

After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, was it possible she was really awake? Wanting him as much as he wanted her?

Afraid to breathe, he trailed his hand up along her arm, wishing the thin, long-sleeved T-shirt she wore beneath her scrubs would vanish, so he could relish the silky softness of her skin. His fingers brushed along the
side of her breast, and she reflexively arched against him, as if seeking more.

He lifted his head to glance down at her, to make sure she wasn’t still asleep and unaware of what was happening. When she gazed up at him, he knew she was silently encouraging him to continue. He lowered his head and captured her mouth in a dizzying kiss.

Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, not to push him away, but to hold on to him, as she, hesitantly at first, and then with more boldness, kissed him back.