32. In Over My Head

32

In Over My Head

Brighton

Monday, June 5 th

9:22 a.m.

My phone clatters to the ground. I have a strong urge to throw my arms around Liam and another to strangle him for scaring the shit out of me.

"Where were you?" My hands fly to cover my mouth.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn't talk to a patient like that.

He grins, confusion etched in his weary eyes. "At the park?"

"Your appointment was at eight."

His grin turns into a grimace as he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "That's what Lauren said. I thought it was at nine-thirty. Look." He grabs his phone from his back pocket and slides it open to a text thread before offering it to me to read.

+ (502) 913-8827: Your chemo appt at Mount Sinai West is on Monday, June 5th at 8:00 a.m. Please call the hospital at 519-226-1400 ext. 701 with any questions.

I guide the phone back toward him. "It was at eight."

He flips the screen around to face himself and chuckles. "I know. So stupid. Totally got it mixed up with something else. I can come back." He points over his shoulder at the elevators and yawns. As he takes a step back, there's a crunch. I cringe, glancing at the cracked screen on my phone.

Liam winces, pulling his shoulders to his ears as he picks it up and offers it to me. "Sorry."

I take the phone, remembering Dax was on the line.

"Hello? You still there?" I ask, holding up a finger for Liam to wait. "He's here. Liam's here."

"What the fuck?" A horn blares along with screeching tires. "Let me talk to him."

"I'll call you back." I hang up before Dax gets the chance to argue.

"You okay?" Liam asks. His face softens, and he gives me a partial smile.

"Are you ? We were worried." I tuck my head and watch a couple of wet spots bloom on my scrubs. Am I crying? I wipe a hand under my eyes. What is wrong with me?

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I glance at the cracked screen.

"We?"

I hold up my phone in explanation. "Dax. Me. The manager."

He tilts his head and scrunches his nose. "Bree?"

"I don't remember what Dax said her name was." I wave my hand, dismissing that aspect of the conversation.

"Why do you have my brother's number on your personal phone?"

"We ran into each other last week." Guilt courses through me, and I try to find a reasonable explanation.

How much does Liam know?

"And you give your number to random guys you run into?"

"Can we discuss this away from prying ears?" My cheeks heat. I sense the nurses are watching us, but I keep my focus on Liam and absentmindedly rub a hand over my empty breast pocket. The damn USB. I only have a little longer until I can . . .

Liam's phone buzzes, and he brings it to his ear. "Hey, Dax." He studies me with narrowed eyes as his lips tilt into a grin. He covers the mouthpiece and directs his question to me. "You sure I don't need to reschedule?"

"We can squeeze you in. Lauren can get a treatment area set up." She smiles at me and hurries out from behind the nurses' station without prompting.

He leans against the counter beside me as we wait for Lauren to return. I keep my eyes glued to him, but he stares off into space.

Sweat trickles down the side of his ashen face. He shivers, pulling at the strings of his hoodie. Being tired is synonymous with the aftermath of treatment, but Liam seems to be taking it harder than most. His jaw twitches, highlighting the five o'clock shadow covering his square jaw, irritation splashing across his features as he listens to Dax.

"Thinking," he says into the phone. "No." He pauses for a beat. "You don't know what it's like."

Lauren gestures us over from the other side of the floor, and I follow Liam. He slouches in the reclining chair, pulls off his sweatshirt, and jerks open the collar of his shirt to allow access to his port.

"I'll take care of this one," I explain to Lauren.

She nods her head toward the nurses' station, her forehead wrinkling. "Call me if you need anything."

"Yeah, one year closer to bingo nights and senior discounts. I told you I'd stay home," Liam says as he makes eye contact with me and rolls his eyes before putting the phone on speaker.

Dax's voice fills the room. "I'm on my way."

"It's too late. I'm already here."

"Keep me on the phone, at least. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left the city."

"You're probably right." Liam bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at me from beneath his honey-colored lashes.

I imagine the guilt Dax feels, especially knowing how rough week two chemo can get.

Liam gives me a crooked smile; the joy he gets from pestering his brother is evident in his light voice. "At the park." Somehow, I've lost track of their conversation.

"For the last hour?" Dax's voice comes across as a scolding parent.

Liam flinches, and the corner of his mouth crinkles as the medication flows into the port. "And the coffee shop. The back of a cab. And downstairs in the lobby."

I log in to the computer on the counter in search of Liam's updated stats. They're here up to Wednesday of week one chemo, but nothing from his infusions last week. I click through his chart and pause at his CT scan for the next week. It's been canceled. That can't be right.

"I'll be right back," I say as I yank back the curtain and head to the nurses' station.

"Hey," I say as Lauren smiles up at me from her paperwork. "Is Liam's chart up here?"

"Probably." She rolls her chair out from under the counter and scoots to the opposite end near the file baskets. She lifts a couple before finding his and rolling back to me. "I haven't updated his info on the computer."

I take the offered chart and scan over the information I don't need. Everything looks like it's going as planned. I skim over his labs and infusion information from last week. But there's nothing about the CT scan.

"Is there a reason Liam's CT was canceled?"

"His CT was canceled?" Lauren's fingers fly across her keyboard as she readjusts her glasses to stare at the screen. She leans forward, resting her chin on her palm. "That can't be right."

I set the file in front of her, and her eyes bounce over it as she leans in closer, her lips moving as she reads the findings in silence. "Looks like Dr. Matthews had it moved."

A sudden coldness strikes at my core. The heavy feeling in my stomach starts a flush of adrenaline tingling throughout my body. First the USB and now this? What is he up to now?

I take off around the half-circle counter and swipe my badge against the pad. The door clicks, and I yank it open, running straight into Kline. What luck.

"Brighton."

"Why'd you change his appointment?"

He holds the door open and stands flush with the wall behind him, guiding me into the hall and away from eager ears. "Tara mentioned Liam in passing and was worried about the time we have between scans. Thought we should move his CT up, see how the chemo's working." He shakes his head and gives me a bored look as he lets the door close behind me, leaving us alone in the hall.

"It's on the schedule for next Wednesday."

"I want it on Friday."

I ball my hands into fists as every other part of me tenses. "Liam is my patient."

"For now."

His words sting like a slap to the face. There's no way I'm letting Liam go. I hold my chin high, my nostrils flaring. "For-ev-er."

I'm not sure where I get the courage to stand up to him. I don't know if it's because we're at the busy hospital in the middle of the day. Or that I know he's the one who screwed with my USB and emails. Or if it's that I'm sick of letting him think he can walk all over me.

But this ends now.

"Stay out of my charts." I grab a hold of the handle and twist as his spindly fingers grab a hold of my elbow.

"You're still on probation with this one."

"Since when?"

"Since the moment I agreed to let you have him. I don't know what you think you're up to, but I'm still in charge here. This is my hospital. My clinic. These are my patients."

"Is that why you took the files?" The words spill from between my gritted teeth. "Cleared my emails? Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"

He tilts his head to the side, his brow creasing in confusion.

And I instantly regret playing my only card.

"What did you say?" He takes off down the hall a short distance and stops, returning to me with a blank look. "What files?"

He can't think I'm that stupid. He's trying to play me. But his reaction seems genuine. Who else would have taken them? Or know where to look? Why would they want them?

My mind scrambles to grasp what's going on. "I don't believe you."

"What files?"

"All of them!" I throw my hands in the air. "I know what you did. And you want to shut me up." I stab a finger in his direction. "Take the files. I don't care. I'll find a way to get Robert what he needs. And stay away from Liam."

I throw the door open and stomp onto the main floor.

"Brighton, hey!" he shouts after me.

I ignore him as the door closes, all eyes on me.

What have I done?

My phone vibrates as I exit, and I pull it from my pocket.

It's Dax.

I read the text.

And re-read it.

The walls start to spin. Sweat gathers in my armpits and at the back of my knees.

Dax: We need to talk

My phone buzzes again, and I struggle to answer it with the shattered screen. He's so persistent. "Dax?"

"He hung up on me."

I rub a hand over the back of my neck, trying to get my body to stop fighting against me.

"Why?" Calm down, B. Get yourself under control. This isn't good. Why did I blow up like that?

I straighten the stethoscope around my neck as a few pens fall from my front pocket. I stoop to gather them and kick half of them across the floor. The commotion gets me a few wayward glances, but I scoop them up and stand, brushing my sweaty palms over my scrubs before hustling toward Liam's curtain.

"Hello?" Dax's voice pulls me back to the present. And I stare at the phone like it's a foreign object.

I clear my throat, hoping my voice will be steady. I hate being put on the spot. "He's going through a lot. You need to try to understand this from his perspective."

"I knew I shouldn't have left. I want to be there."

"He's already started treatment. We have everything under control."

"Dammit." There's a thud, and I flinch, imagining his fist colliding with the steering wheel. "I knew I should have stayed." His words turn to mumbling, and I only catch pieces of them, making out something about an argument and not wanting to leave.

"Dax." I make my way across the floor and stop outside Liam's curtain as he rants. "Dax?"

"What?"

"I need to see him now."

"Have him call me. I need to know what's going on." A part of me wants to be the Brighton Dax needs, but the edge in his voice says I need to be Dr. Fields.

"I'll leave that up to him."

"Never mind." The line goes dead.

I close my eyes, try to reorient myself, and put on my happy face as I slide the curtain open along the track.

When I enter the area, Liam opens his eyes and winces.

"It's that bad, huh?" I ask as I offer an empathetic smile and close the curtain behind me.

"I thought I'd get used to it, but I think it gets worse each time."

The curtain slides open behind me, and I whip around to find Kline. I get an irritated glare. Liam gets a reassuring smile.

This is not happening.

"Mr. Blakely, I've heard a lot about you." He pulls the rolling chair out from under the counter and takes a seat before gliding closer to Liam.

"All good, I hope." Liam glances up at me, questioning what's going on as his eyes flick to Kline and back to me.

Lauren rushes into the room seconds later, her eyes large and frantic. "Hi, um, I . . . Everything okay?" she asks through broken breaths, keeping her gaze off of Kline as she focuses on my face.

I want to scream that everything is not okay, but I don't want to panic Liam.

"Thank you, Lauren. We've got this." Kline pats a hand on Liam's lower leg and dismisses her with a brief smile.

"I'm at the counter if you need anything." She sets a hand on my shoulder as she passes, pulling the curtain closed behind her.

"How's your pain?" Kline asks as he shifts his eyes to Liam.

"Better after the infusions last week."

"I thought it was about time we met. You're aware of our group approach to treatment, I'm sure. I'm Dr. Matthews."

Liam stiffens, and his eyes dart to me. Yes, he's that Dr. Matthews. I try to convey what I mean without Kline noticing, positive that Liam is thinking about the malpractice.

Kline's eyes sweep the room and land on the IV bag next to Liam's chair. He stands, takes hold of it, and becomes engrossed in the label.

I'm convinced he's trying to unnerve me, get under my skin. The idea of it pisses me off more than it should. I make eye contact with Liam and give him a slight shake of my head, begging him not to question what's going on.

Kline crosses his arms over his chest, his movement catching both of our attention. "Looks like you're in good hands. If you ever have questions—"

"I can contact Dr. Fields," Liam interrupts.

"That's right," I say as I grab the curtain and pull it open, sweeping a hand toward the floor as a suggestion that Kline leaves. The shelf life of my patience has expired.

Kline pushes the rolling chair back under the counter with his foot and walks past me. "It was nice meeting you."

"I'll be back before your treatment's over," I reassure Liam as I follow Kline.

He leans his head back on the chair, closing his eyes.

I pull the curtain closed behind me and find Kline with his arms crossed over his chest, nostrils flaring.

"What was that?" I whisper-hiss, pointing at Liam's curtain.

"Don't you ever walk away from me again," he says through a clenched jaw, his words clipped.

My eyes scan the floor, but everyone seems to be minding their own business.

"You've never checked on my patients before."

"And I regret that every day. Need I remind you why you're on probation?"

"That was uncalled for." I clench my hands. "Unprofessional. Like you said, he's in good hands."

He turns on his heel and walks away, mumbling, "Until he's not."