Doctor Charmer (Doctors of Eastport General)

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Reggie

I rip off the bloody gloves, tossing them in the bin. “Buzz me when we hear from the lab.” I give instructions to my team and exit the ER room. An elderly woman with a kitchen mishap. Third time she’s been in my ER in the last three months, and I suspect something more than carelessness. “Page Neuro for a consult.” I won’t let her go home this time until we’ve explored every avenue and gotten to the root cause. “No stone unturned.”

I push out of the room and take a deep exhale. Since this morning, it’s been nonstop. I pace to the nurses’ station to see what is next. When Nurse Reynolds is on duty, I make no pretense that I’m in charge. Her chin lifts as I approach; she can already read my mind.

“You can take a breath. All quiet,” she says with half a smirk. “You’ll have a visitor arriving in three, two…” She looks over her shoulder, and standing in the doorway is Ivy. She’s wearing a sweat suit jacket, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck, and matching sweatpants, and she has a winter jacket hooked over her arm.

“Now?” Ivy’s question is directed at Nurse Reynolds.

She smiles and nods. “Now.” Ivy approaches, and Nurse Reynolds gives her back and whispers to me, “She’s come by every twenty minutes like clockwork looking for you.”

My first thought is of our bet, and I wonder if I’m about to win. “Really?”

Nurse Reynolds smacks my arm. “Don’t be a smart-ass. Careful with this one.”

I don’t have time to ask what she means as Ivy appears next to me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you a million times.” Ivy looks at me as if I’ve hung the moon, and I have no idea what she’s thanking me for.

“Griffin,” she says, and it all clicks. I had them place Griffin in the same room as his teammate Chelsea, the other two girls next door.

“Don’t mention it. It was nothing.” It wasn’t. Finding two empty rooms on the same floor is tough enough; having them next to each other is damn near impossible. Three phone calls and Nurse Reynolds calling in a favor weren’t enough to get them to break hospital protocol. But my personal visit to the fifth floor convinced them it would be better for them to have a friend in the ER who owed them a favor than one with a vindictively long memory.

“Still, you made it happen. Right next to each other. I really appreciate it. They feel like they’re back in the dorms and not sequestered at a hospital nearly a hundred of miles away from everyone they know.” Ivy adjusts the coat in her hand to swipe at a dark curl that has fallen in front of her face. I take her movement to steal another of the thousand glances I’m accumulating. She’s a rare beauty who gets more stunning the longer I stare at her. “You got a few minutes? Grab your coat.”

It’s only been a few hours since I last saw her, but it feels like a week has passed. “Sure. Let me run up to my office. Meet you in the lobby in three.”

“I’ll be counting,” she whispers, then turns on her heels and is gone before I can speak. I watch her bounce out of the exit, not realizing Nurse Reynolds is still standing next to me.

“Hope you know what you’re doing? Something tells me she’s not like your others.”

I laugh and head toward the elevator bank. “I certainly hope so.” She’s right. Nurse Reynolds is always right. “I most certainly hope so,” I repeat, pressing the button.

***

“I need to move,” Ivy says, and a white puff of smoke from the cold winter air floats in front of her face. Her scarf is wrapped tight around her neck, but she doesn’t wear a hat or hood. Snowflakes land on the top of her curls but don’t seem to bother her. I half debate reaching over to wipe it away just to have an excuse to touch her.

We are outside the back entrance of the hospital. It’s midday, but the overcast sky makes it feel like early evening. The holiday lights along the path are on. They’ll remain on until late January.

Ivy paces three strides ahead of me, and I march to keep up. She wasn’t kidding when she said she needed to move. Long strides eat up the walkway, and the hospital fades into the background.

“Too much sitting is not good for the body,” she says, leading us down the snow-covered trail. The benches and tables used for summer lunches are covered in snow. “But you’re a doctor. You already know this.”

She turns to face me, walking backward and spreading her glove-covered hands out as if she’s about to catch the sun, and I don’t doubt for one second that she’ll be capable of it. “It’s a freaking winter wonderland out here. How is it possible that I live two hours away and we don’t experience snow like this?”

I could tell her it has to do with the fact Eastport sits between two mountain ranges with Canadian breezes, but that’s not the response she’s seeking. “It’s a magical place.”

She ignores my comment, a spark of mischief igniting in her golden eyes. “You know what this weather is perfect for?”

“I’m thinking warm blanket, roaring fire…” I lay the breadcrumbs for her to follow.

“Close.” She grins and squats, scooping up a handful of snow. “But no. A snowball fight.”

I regurgitate her line from this morning. “What are you, twelve?” Her brilliant beam pulls a reluctant smile on mine.

“Come on, Reggie. Live a little. Laugh a little.” She rises to her feet, holding the misshapen ball of snow in her hand.

She doesn’t wait for my agreement. The smack of snow against my chest is all the declaration I need. “You’re going to regret that,” I say, bending to scoop up a handful of the white stuff.

I hear the crunch of her boots across the snow as she takes off, disappearing behind a bench.

“You talk a good game, Doctor.” Her giggles echo off the frozen buildings surrounding the outdoor area. I bend and form a ball of snow, something that I can’t believe I’m doing.

“All talk is your specialty,” I remind her of her words. “Where are you?”

I stand and approach the bench where I lost sight of her. A blur of movement to my right causes me to turn. Too late. I’m bombarded with three rapid-fire balls of snow. The last one hits me right on the forehead.

I lower my head and wipe the snow from my face. The cold nips at my nose, and I can’t believe I’m enjoying this.

“Incoming.” Her warning arrives too late for me to react. A pair of arms wrap around my waist, knocking me to the ground. She literally has taken my breath away. She’s strong, a reminder that she’s an athlete. She lands on top of me, straddling me, a knee on each side of me on the cold ground. I raise my hands to protect my face as she scoops snow from the ground, shoveling it like a dog in the park burying their load.

“Never underestimate a tomboy,” she says, and I can’t picture a teenage version of her as a tomboy. A heartbreaker. A perpetual tease. But never a tomboy.

She thinks she’s won, but I won’t go down that easily. I roll on my shoulder, not stopping until I complete a full spin and continue again. She tries to hold on, but she’d never last the eight seconds at my rodeo. She plops on the icy ground next to me, and I roll on top of her.

Her giggles return, and I lift a hand stuffed with snow above her head. Her eyes look up at the impending doom, yet her giggles continue to play a soundtrack I won’t soon forget. A few flakes of snow fall from my hand, landing on her nose and cheek, and I pause.

Her gaze shifts to mine, her laughter disappearing. She gives me a look that can’t be mistaken for anything other than desire. Without looking away, I push my hand out to my side, shaking it as the snow falls from my hand. I wipe the last of the snow clinging to my glove on my side before lowering it toward her shimmering face. It hovers an inch away from cupping her beautiful face.

Her eyes snap to my empty hand, her look softening to a now what? expression.

I lower my hand, two fingers brushing away the errant snowflakes from her face. The air hums with electricity, the holiday lights sparkling in her eyes. Her breath hitches, and so does mine.

Her lip quivers, and I lower my gaze. She mouths the words Do it.

My heart pounds, the burst of adrenaline racing through my veins. I lean down. She doesn’t react when I brush my nose against hers. An Eskimo kiss.

The crinkles in the corner of her eyes spreads with victory. It would be so easy to let her win. And in this moment, I want her to. But I don’t.

“I win the first round,” I say, freezing in place, hovering above her.

Her lashes flutter. “You wish. I hit you with like ten snowballs. How many did you hit me with—oh, that’s right. None.”

I chuckle, still not moving and in no hurry to change positions. “And yet, I have you pinned to the ground.”

“Ha,” she scoffs. “And you think this isn’t exactly where I wanted you?”

“On top of you? I’ll take this view any day.”

Her laugh should have put me on alert. She presses up on her elbows, and I give her just enough space to move. She kicks her leg out at the trunk of the thin tree next to the walkway. She rolls her shoulders and presses her head into my chest seconds before we’re covered in snowfall from the branches of the tree.

I hunch, shouldering the brunt of the sudden white avalanche. Falling forward, I press my elbows to either side of her, putting her in a protective cocoon.

She laughs beneath me, and I realize what she’s done. She tackled me, hoping I’d roll in this direction. Her plan all along was to get me underneath the tree. She was always one step ahead of me.

Snow trickles in between my coat collar and my shirt, ice running down my back. I push up from the ground, looking like Frosty the Snowman. I stomp my feet, spin in a tight circle, and knock the snow off me.

Ivy remains curled in a ball on the ground, barely a speck of snow on her. She looks up with a twinkle in her eye. She’s loving this.

So am I.

“You’re playing checkers while I’m a chess master,” she says. I reach a hand down and help her up. “I think it’s clear round one is mine.”

I bend at my waist and slap off the snow from my pants leg. “I concede,” I say with a smile on my face. “Well played.”

I can’t believe how much I enjoyed this silly game. Maybe being twelve isn’t so bad. Every day, I make split-second life-and-death decisions. Some days, that weight threatens to crush me. It feels good to take a step back and just be carefree for a moment in time.

“Thank you.”

She gives me a look of appreciation as if she can read my mind, and I no longer doubt it. I wave a hand toward the building. “Let’s get back before we turn into snowmen. Hot chocolate is on you.”

She takes the lead and giggles. “It always was.” She says the words as if she’s scripted my every move.

“I’ll get you in round two.”

She grabs the door handle, stepping to the side and holding the door open for me. The curl of her lips is expected. “It’s cute that you think you stand a chance. I see you, Reggie. The real you.” I step into the warmth of the hospital and let her words wash over me. She gets the last word, something I once owned. Her words play on repeat in my head. You don’t stand a chance.

And after this, I’m starting to believe her.