The elevator dinged, and I forced my eyes open, pushing off the back wall to get myself moving. My feet felt weighted as I trudged across the marble floor toward the front desk to hand in my key, the scuff of my soles echoing around the glossy, vaulted space. I was beyond exhausted, and I had to head into the clinic now, for a full day of patients. Silly me, I’d thought these days of working on no sleep were behind me after graduating from med school. At least it wouldn’t be the first time I’d pulled it off. Turned out owning a private practice wasn’t as cushy as I’d thought it would be.
My lips twitched with a smile. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I set my key on the counter and slid it across to the man in the black three-piece suit with a red vest. His blond hair was perfectly styled, laced with the barest hint of silver, and a cleft in his chin gave him a sophisticated air. “Checking out of room 216,” I said, then turned, about to leave.
“Oh, Doctor Zappek,” the man said, bringing my attention back around. “My name is Emerson Holland, and I’m the owner of the hotel.” He stepped out from behind the counter and offered me his hand. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you did last night. Having a baby delivered in one of the rooms was certainly a first for us. Not something you can ever prepare for, I imagine.”
“For me too,” I joked. Squared off with this man, so impeccably dressed, I suddenly felt like a giant slob in my blue polo and khakis. I’d planned on having time to go home and getdressed before work, but I simply wouldn’t have the time today. This was as good as I was going to get.
Mr. Holland’s blue eyes sparkled like sunlight off ice as he smiled at me. He was just sonice. Was that all it was, gratitude? I was really awful at picking up on cues. Was he hitting on me or just kind? Out of curiosity, I found my eyes drifting down to check for a ring on his finger. Married. All the good ones were, so I guessed he was just nice. Either that or I was so desperate and lonely that I saw things that weren’t there. Yeah, that was likely it. “I would like to offer you a refund on your room. You barely got to use it, after all. Considering all the work you did, I should probably be offering you a wage.”
I shook my head, where a headache was slowly forming. I was in desperate need of some coffee, but I forced a smile anyway. “No, I promise it’s no trouble. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t offer my help.” I could tell he was going to press the matter, whether out of guilt or gratitude, but I simply didn’t have the time or energy for it right now, so instead, I held a hand up to forestall whatever he was going to say. “I’ll tell you what. How about a rain check for another night in the future? I’m in a hurry to get to the clinic this morning, but I would love to spend a full night in one of those beds. It was like a body-hugging cloud.”
Emerson smiled warmly. “I’ll even upgrade you to a full suite.”
“Consider it a deal.” We shook hands again, and I agreed to be in touch. Whether I would take him up on it or not was tomorrow’s problem. Today, the order of priorities was coffee, food, work. That was all I could manage right now.
Luckily, Crave Coffee was just down the street, so I ran down and loaded up with an extra-large Americano and a bacon-and-egg breakfast croissant, before jogging to the parking garage where I’d left my car. Rush-hour traffic was just getting started, which meant I was going to be late to the office. Of course, todayof all days. I groaned and quickly called my receptionist with the hands-free speaker.
“Hey, Delaney. Sorry to stick you with grumpy patients, but I’m caught in traffic right now. I probably won’t be in for another 20 minutes or so. If they get rowdy, throw owie cures at them.” That was what I called the suckers I gave to the kids for getting their vaccines.
Her laugh was raspy through the car’s speakers. “Don’t worry, Lazlo. There’s nothing urgent. Did you have a good holiday?”
I blew a raspberry. “Turned out I was less on holiday, more on-call. I’ll fill you in when I get there, but I will say I’m ordering lunch in today. My treat.” I usually brought my own lunches from home, but that was a no-go.
“I’ll pull out the menus,” she said, before we disconnected the call.
I did my best to focus on the road while scarfing down my breakfast, but the brain fog was real. By the time I pulled into my spot in the parking lot, the sun was far too high in the sky, and I felt like I had spent the entire drive in a daze.
I burst into the office, expecting to offer a few apologies, but instead, I found a bunch of concerned expressions on the waiting patients and one very large man with a buzzcut, tattooed sleeves on display, holding a bucket car seat. “Are you the doctor? Please, can you help me?”
My eyes moved from the man, the epitome of masculine perfection, to the baby buckled into the carrier, and I felt the overwhelming fatigue drift away. Would I help? The answer would always be yes.
2
Jeremiah
Theheadlightscutacrossmy farmhouse as I pulled my SUV into the driveway, the peeling paint on the clapboard making my home look more decrepit than it was. It was sturdy, exactly what you thought of when you heard someone say, “They don’t build ‘em like they used to,” but it had decades left in these old bones. It would outlive me, no doubt. The house lights were out, aside from the flicker of the TV through the living room curtains. I knew Olivia was still up, taking advantage of my streaming services while she babysat Sam.
I laughed at that thought as I cut the engine and hopped out, boots crunching in the gravel. Sam didn’t need a babysitter—I knew this because he’d told me at least a dozen times. And sure, technically he was old enough to stay home alone, at 13, but he’d come to me as a foster a couple years ago, and I knew he was still nursing a broken heart. Trauma like that didn’t just vanish overnight.
Olivia looked up when I walked in. “Hey, Jerry. How was it tonight?”
I shrugged. “How is it ever? Loud, messy, smelly, and sticky.” That was probably how you could describe working at any bar, and Mickey’s was no exception. At least no one punched me tonight.
She made a face but laughed all the same, then got up from the couch and grabbed her purse. “I don’t know how you do it. I’d rather do my homework for English Lit—and we’re reading Charles Dickens, so you know I mean business.”
“It pays the bills.” But only because I owned my house outright. It had been my parents’ house before it was left to me in their will, and I’d moved into it as soon as I was old enough to live on my own, almost 20 years ago now. Working at Mickey’s didn’t pay overly well, but my boss was flexible with my hours, which I needed when it came to being an emergency foster parent. Plus, the 80’s theme meant the music was pretty good too. “Speaking of paying the bills…” I said, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet and pulling out her fee for the night.
“Thanks, Jerry. My tuition loan appreciates it.”
“You’re welcome, and thanks for watching Sam for me.”
She waved away my thanks. “That boy is such a sweetie. I feel like I’m robbing you blind by accepting this.” She fanned her face with the cash, then slipped it into her pocket with a wink and waved over her shoulder on the way out the door. “Night, Jer. See you next week.”
I watched from the doorway to make sure she got in her car okay, then locked up the house behind her and turned off the TV. The quiet out here was shocking sometimes, away from the city, but I could hear crickets through the open kitchen window.
I did my best to tiptoe up the stairs in my socked feet, skipping the steps I knew that creaked, but there was only so much creeping a man my size could do. In the end, it wasn’t enough—it never was. I was just slipping into my bedroom when I heard Sam’s bedroom door open. I paused and stepped back into the hallway. “It’s just me, Sammy. I’m home. You can go to sleep now.”
