Page 4 of If Cain Were Able

But every line gets more interesting.

I stop reading and back up a few lines.

I’m not surprised that Patrick got married. I am surprised that she’s deceased. Given that information, it’s also not surprising that he hasn’t been very sexually active, but two years? The man’s practically a born-again virgin. But the timeline from his wife’s death to his last partner also intrigues me in a way I wish it didn’t.

The thought enters unbidden into my mind before I can stop it.

I wonder if he’s found himself in need of purpose once again.

Chapter 4

Patrick

Nothing really sheds light on how lonely you are quite like being wheeled into the operating room for major surgery and having no one in the waiting room when you come out.

If I come out.

As expected, Liam couldn’t get away. We’re not as distant with each other as we once were, but neither are we on a level where I’d expect him to drop everything he has going on just to be here on the off chance something goes wrong.

He called me this morning, and that was sufficient.

The OR staff help me onto the table, and I try to get as comfortable as one can while also knowing I may die here, when the OR door suddenly crashes open.

Of course, Cain would make a grand entrance. I close my eyes, trying to keep my erratic heart rate down, not wanting the last face I see to be his, but when he moves next to my makeshift bed, my eyes fly open as if he had pried them that way with his fingers.

His surgical mask hangs around his neck and a clear face shield is pushed up on his head.

Guess he’s expecting a mess.

Suddenly, this whole thing is real, and I’m oddly glad his face is the last one I’ll see. At least he’s familiar to me. Besides, maybe if I don’t come out of this, I’ll have the chance to see Emilia again, too.

That thought makes me smile, and I swear the corners of Cain’s lips quirk. Egotistical asshole probably thinks my smile is for him.

“We’re going to start pushing the anesthesia now,” he informs me. “Count backwards from ten for me.” His voice has been untouched by age, and as he issues orders around the room, I forget to count and focus solely on his voice.

Suddenly, there’s movement next to my head, and I swear to God, I hear Cain say, “I promise I’ll make it good for you, Kitten.”

And then it’s lights out.

When I wake up, everything is a blur. My vision. My brain. My memory of the last twenty-four hours. And also, it hurts to inhale.

Monitors next to my bed begin beeping loudly as soon as I move, and a nurse comes racing into my room, followed by a man wearing a short white lab coat.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. I’m Garrett, Dr. Rosemont’s PA. How are you feeling?”

I try not to acknowledge the disappointment welling inside me that Cain didn’t come check on me himself, but honestly, did I really expect him to?

He made it clear I was just another patient to him, but I don’t stay upset long because the man literally saved my life. I always knew he’d fulfill his dream of becoming a surgeon. Cain’s devotion to something is unparalleled once he sinks his teeth in.

I guess we’re the same in that regard, but that’s where the similarities between us start and end.

“Fine,” I rasp, turning to look out the window. It’s dusk, and the clock above the door tells me it’s five-thirty.

The physician’s assistant types something into the rolling computer and hands me a cup of water with a straw from a little table beside my bed.

“Have a small sip. Take your time. Swallowing can feel difficult at first,” he instructs.

I manage the water okay, and Garrett goes about checking my monitors before gently pulling my gown open to peer at my incision.