Can they leave their past behind...

To save her son’s life?

When paramedic Rhiann Masters’s young son needs heart surgery, there’s only one man she can trust—former best friend and top pediatric surgeon Dr. Patrick Scott. The only problem? After a tragic accident changed Patrick’s life forever, they haven’t spoken in years. Now as they’re thrown back together, they soon remember just how good life can be when they’re by each other’s side...

ALLIE KINCHELOE has been writing stories for as long as she can remember, and somehow they always become romances. A Kentucky girl at heart, she now lives in Tennessee, with her husband, children, and a growing menagerie of pets. Visit her on Twitter: @AllieKAuthor.

Heart Surgeon’s Second Chance is Allie Kincheloe’s debut title

Look out for more books from Allie Kincheloe

Coming soon

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Heart Surgeon’s Second Chance

Allie Kincheloe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90233-9

HEART SURGEON’S SECOND CHANCE

© 2020 Allie Kincheloe

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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This book is dedicated to all those who have helped me

along the way, my family, and those who have

become like family—you know who you are.

And to Victoria Britton—without your belief in

this story, this book wouldn’t exist.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Rhiann

DREAD POOLED LOW in Rhiann’s stomach as the door to the exam room opened with a slow and ominous creak. Broad shoulders in a white coat filled the space and her eyes roamed the doctor’s familiar form, taking in the subtle changes time had wrought.

Three years ago he hadn’t had those deep lines etched into his face. His dark hair had a little more silver at the temple than she remembered, but he was as lean and handsome as ever.

Dr. Patrick Scott stepped into the room, his eyes looking down at the screen of the silver laptop in his hand. His movements carried the spicy aroma of his cologne into the small room, the pleasing notes covering the harsh antiseptic and teasing a part of her that had gone dormant since her divorce.

But on top of the overtly masculine scent he brought with him a wave of sadness that hinted at tragedy.

“Hello, Mrs.... Masters...um...”

His deep gravelly voice trailed off and his sky-blue eyes jerked up to meet hers when he recognized her name. The slight fake smile he’d had on his lips when he’d opened the door faded fast. Judging from the ice that frosted over his gaze, the animosity he held for her hadn’t eased since she’d last seen him.

The exam room door shut behind him with an audible click and the laptop clattered slightly as he set it roughly on the counter.

“What are you doing here?”

The uncharacteristic coldness in his tone sent a shiver coursing down her spine. Patrick’s voice had always held such emotion, its rich timbre broadcasting his feelings with the simplest words. In all the years she’d known him Rhiann had never heard this distant tone.

Rhiann hugged the baby in her arms close to her chest, tears filling her eyes as she fought to keep her emotions from overwhelming her. She’d hoped the time since they’d last seen each other might have given Patrick clarity and smoothed the raw edges of his anger, but clearly not enough time had passed. Now she could only hope that he would be professional enough to put their personal grievances aside and focus on her child’s best interests.

She needed to keep a clear head today, so she stuffed her feelings away as best she could. She had known coming here was a risk, but there was no other way or she’d have explored it already.

“I need your help. Well, he needs your help. This is my son Levi. He has a heart defect, and the cardiologist at St. Thomas’ wants to do surgery to fix it. But if anyone is cutting my baby open I want it to be the best surgeon I can find.” She paused to swallow down an oversized lump in her throat. “And that’s you.”

“You expect me to save someone you love. How ironic.”

A single dark eyebrow raised as he stared down at her, his expression unreadable and as cold as marble. His eyes searched hers—for what, she didn’t know.

Just as she was sure he was about to tell her to leave, to scream at her like he had the last time she’d seen him, his gaze flicked down to the baby in her arms and the ice in his eyes melted the tiniest bit.

“Please, Dr. Scott.”

The formality felt stiff and awkward as it rolled off her tongue without the teasing tone she’d used each time she’d called him by his title in the past. Years ago they had been the closest of friends, sharing every secret with each other. They had even flirted with the idea of a relationship on an occasion or two.

But it no longer seemed appropriate to call him by his given name. Not when their friendship had crumbled on the back of accusations and misplaced blame. Their personal connection was more of a hindrance than a help in her quest to get her son the care he needed, so she kept things formal, hoping to appeal to his professional side.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers and that hint of softening was gone. “You ask too much.”

The once happy-go-lucky Patrick had earned a reputation over the last couple years for taciturnity. His white-hot talent was tempered by his ice-cold bedside manner, but he was the best pediatric cardiac surgeon in the southeast, and that fact made people overlook his brusque manner.

He’d changed three years ago—just as she had.

Rhiann remembered the caring man he’d used to be, though, and she hoped there was enough of that man left deep inside for him to agree to help. Her son’s life depended on it.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, but I had to try. I had to give my sweet baby every chance possible. Because he’s just a baby.”

She reached for any way to connect with the man standing before her, sensing that rejection sat poised on his lips.

“Look at him. He’s an innocent child who needs your assistance. Can you live with yourself if you don’t at least try to help him?”

“I’ll have my partner—”

“I didn’t come here for your partner. And even though I know he’s an excellent surgeon, I refuse to let you pass Levi off to Clay. Because I came here for the best surgeon I know. Not for second-best.”

He muttered a curse, so low it was barely perceptible, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know if he needs surgery we’ll be seeing each other a lot over the coming weeks and months? Do you know what seeing you that often is going to do to me?”

Clearly not a single thing had changed between them. He still hated her. But that fact changed nothing about her mission today.

Emotions threatened to clog her throat and Rhiann coughed a bit to clear it. She swiped at a hot tear that had leaked from her eye and run down her cheek. With a hard inhalation she tried to lock those feelings away, because she needed to keep a cool head. She had to convince Patrick to help Levi.

“Whatever you think I did or didn’t do, that was in the past and between us. It has nothing to do with my son. I’ve run that day through my head no less than a thousand times, but there’s nothing I could have done that would have changed anything. I can’t change the past, but you can change Levi’s future. You can give him a future.”

His brows furrowed, Patrick pressed his lips together tightly, but her words must have touched something in the man she’d once known because he was pulling his stethoscope from around his neck.

“Let me take a look at him, run a few tests, and we’ll go from there. His records from his previous doctors haven’t been transferred yet, and I’d like to review those as well.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Rhiann’s heart thudded in her chest as Patrick sat on a rolling stool and pushed it over to listen to Levi’s heart. His hand brushed hers, warm despite his cold manner, as he moved the stethoscope gently over her son’s back. He sat close, his knee bumping into her thigh when he shifted to listen to Levi’s chest.

She inhaled sharply at the touch and he looked up at the sound, their gazes meeting over Levi’s head. The spark that fired up in his eyes brought back a time when distance between them hadn’t existed and their lives had been far easier, and she wished they could return to the easy-going camaraderie of those days.

The exam room suddenly shrank in size as new strain filled the space and fire warred with the ice in Patrick’s eyes.

The silence amped up the tension until finally he snapped back to the present enough to speak. “What tests has he had done? And how recently?”

“Most recently he’s had chest X-rays and an EKG. Two weeks ago.”

Rhiann swallowed hard. Her own medical training made this harder, because as a paramedic she knew enough to know that Levi’s heart condition was really bad.

“They told me Levi had a heart murmur when he was born—but a lot of babies have murmurs, you know? So, I was watching it, but it only kept getting worse. Then he started turning blue, and I knew it was more than just a murmur. I pushed and pushed until we saw a specialist. Six months ago he had a shunt put in that was supposed to help. But, as you can see from his coloring, it’s not enough. I’m not even sure the shunt has helped at all.”

“I’m not sure it has either.”

Patrick rolled the stool over to his computer and Rhiann breathed deeply for the first time since she’d made the appointment to see him. The keys clicked and clacked beneath Patrick’s nimble fingers as he made some notes on Levi’s chart.

He spoke without looking at her. “You might want to have Pete with you for the tests, for emotional support. How’s he handling all this, anyway?”

“I have no idea. Pete sent me divorce papers shortly after Levi was born. I haven’t seen or heard from him since before Levi had his shunt put in. Last I heard he had moved back home to California and was living near his parents. Despite loving all the music here, you know he always hated Nashville. Not close enough to the water for him. And once he gave up on the idea of a music career—well, I’m afraid it’s just me and Levi now.”

Patrick spun on the stool and stared at her for a minute. “I didn’t know,” he finally acknowledged.

“Well, now you do.”

Patrick had never liked Pete, so it would surely make him happy to hear that he’d been right when he’d warned her it would never last. The teensiest bit of joy flashed in his eyes and his lips curled up momentarily before he brought his emotions back under the icy veneer.

Her spine stiffened as she waited for the I told you so from her former friend.

“What happened?”

She sighed and let an abbreviated version of the story slip past her lips—a story she’d told more than once. “I had a hard time getting pregnant. We needed help from a donor. Pete never really connected with the thought of a baby that wasn’t his biological child, and... Well, when the news came in that Levi wasn’t absolutely perfect, that he had a heart problem, Pete just couldn’t escape fast enough.”

Levi was her family now. The only person in the world she had to love and to love her in return. She didn’t need a man like Pete. She didn’t need anyone at all except Levi. And for Levi she’d cross as many rivers and boundaries as she had to in order to get him the help he needed.

Right now Levi needed the surgeon sitting in front of her, and she was definitely crossing over the boundary lines he’d thrown up between them. Not just crossing them, but stomping on them and maybe setting them on fire for good measure.

Patrick snorted. “If only someone had told you that loser wasn’t worth your time...”

Despite expecting the rebuke, the frigidness in his tone shocked her. Rhiann blinked away more tears. The man sitting before her bore little resemblance to the friend she’d once known. That man would never have spoken to her with such vehemence.

She hugged Levi closer, knowing she couldn’t leave here without Patrick agreeing to help her son, and determined to take whatever Patrick felt he had to dish out in order to make that happen.

Very little in her life had come easily, and if there was one thing she knew it was how to stay strong and fight for what mattered. Levi was worth every fight she’d faced already, and he’d remain worth any fights there were to come.

The baby squeaked in protest as she unconsciously tightened her grip on him as she stiffened up her resolve. She eased her hold and rested her cheek on the top of Levi’s head, murmuring an apology.

She’d surprised Patrick, based on how his body stiffened beneath her hand when she reached over and put her hand on his white-cotton-clad forearm. His arm was warm beneath her fingers, which was surprising, since she’d almost expected his arm to feel like solid ice to match his demeanor.

“You can fix him, right?”

Patrick

Emotions rolled over Patrick. Waves of anger swirled around spikes of sympathy, and even a hint of something he didn’t want to put a name to. He shut his feelings down and didn’t allow himself the luxury of emotions.

No feelings meant no pain. And if anyone had ever perfected the art of depriving themselves of all emotion it was Patrick.

He pushed the stool back away from the teary-eyed blonde and her tiny son before the sweet scent of vanilla and apricots that wafted from her overwhelmed his sensibilities and made him do something stupid.

Like pull her into his arms and whisper reassurances about her son’s future that he wasn’t sure he could fulfill. Or kiss her to see if she still used the strawberry lip gloss he’d been so desperate to taste once upon a time.

He cleared his throat and pulled up the cold professionalism that had served him well these last few years. No matter how good Rhiann smelled, no matter how many sparks shot up from his arm at her simple touch, he would not allow himself to think of her that way—not her, not after what she’d done.

“I don’t want to make any promises until I see exactly what we’re looking at. But I don’t like what I’m hearing. You have to know that Levi’s in poor condition.”

From what he’d heard of the little guy’s heart, surgery was almost a guarantee. But promises were wasted words when he was talking about a heart the size of a plum. And, with their past, if Rhiann had sought him out, surely she already knew things were bad.

“I can’t lose him,” she whispered, her lips feathering across the baby’s forehead. The shadows in her eyes darkened as she processed his words. “He’s all I have. Please, help him.”

A mother’s love visibly permeated her every move. It had brought her here today, despite knowing she’d have to face him again. That courage ripped open something deep in Patrick’s chest, and he knew it would take more than a hastily slapped-on bandage to patch the gaping hole Rhiann’s reappearance in his life had rent.

He stood abruptly, the stool rolling back into the wall with a rattling thud that echoed in the quiet stillness of the exam room. Fighting back the emotion that Rhiann kissing her child had triggered, he snapped out a quick response. “Levi needs an echo and a heart catherization. Once we get the results of those, we can go from there. I’ll have my nurse schedule the tests.”

Leaving the door to slam shut behind his rushed exit, Patrick strode down the hall to the nurses’ station. He shoved the laptop across the counter. “Schedule these tests for Exam Three and get them out of here now.”

He turned toward his office, heedless of the stares coming from his staff, but he didn’t miss the muttered conversation behind him.

“I wonder what the mom in three said that turned the temp down on the Ice Castle? Geez...”

“Right? I didn’t know he could get any colder.”

He ignored their words and walked away.

Thankfully, Levi had been his last patient of the day. Shutting the door, Patrick leaned back against the smooth wood and closed his eyes, trying to shove all the pain back into the depths of his mind. He tugged at the tie around his neck, loosening the silk that threatened his air supply.

Nothing could have prepared him for Rhiann’s return to his life.

Nothing.

Inhaling deeply, he focused on the abstract painting behind his desk. His late wife had painted the simple lines, with bold and contrasting colors, to help ground him when he found himself overwhelmed by the emotions and heartbreak that came with being a pediatric heart surgeon. Mallory had been deeply aware of his need to keep his environment outside the operating room calm. She’d known him better than he’d known himself at times.

He followed the lines across the canvas with his eyes, from light to dark, then back to light, while he took several slow, deep breaths.

He had to pull it together.

His nerve endings were twitching at the memories assaulting his consciousness, overpowering his present with painful reminders of the past.

Of all the people to walk into his practice today, it had had to be Rhiann—the one person he’d never wanted to see again. He’d wanted to rage at her and have her removed from his sight. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms and find out just what her perfectly pink lips tasted like.

There was just something about her... Something that had always fascinated him almost as much as it had angered him. Rhiann had been his first crush, his unattainable first love, but they’d never been on the same page when it came to a relationship. Then he’d met Mallory, and Rhiann’s role as his best friend had been locked in.

At least until she’d betrayed his trust...

And now she had to be the first woman to catch his interest in three years.

The dark shadows under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping, and he didn’t have to wonder why. The way her clothes hung off a frame much thinner than he remembered had brought back protective instincts he would rather not have had reawakened.

Just for that he wanted to hate Rhiann.

Hate her for making him feel.

He’d tried not to notice how Levi’s illness was affecting her. They weren’t friends anymore and it shouldn’t matter to him at all that she’d lost the dead weight from her life by divorcing that idiot Pete.

But it did matter.

Too much.

He’d almost told her to get out.

Almost.

But then he’d looked down at the little boy in her arms and found himself unable to banish her from his life once more. When he’d opened his mouth to tell her to go he’d heard himself say instead that they’d run some tests. Why? Because the blue tint to her tiny son’s skin reminded him of who he was and why Rhiann had come back into his life. And, regardless of how Rhiann had betrayed him, he couldn’t take all that resentment out on an innocent baby. Even if he wanted to hurt her like she’d hurt him, he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Levi.

Instead of being a robust and active toddler, the frail eighteen-month-old Levi was the size of a nine-month-old. His little heart wasn’t pumping right and his every breath seemed a struggle.

He hadn’t got out of Rhiann’s lap to run around the exam room. He hadn’t crinkled the paper on the table with delighted giggles. He hadn’t torn pages from the books and magazines. No, he’d only sat in Rhiann’s arms and barely reacted to the exam.

Levi was a very sick little boy who urgently needed Patrick’s help. And he’d help Levi. But not because he was Rhiann’s son. He’d help Levi because it was the right thing to do, both as a physician and as a human being. He’d help Levi and then Rhiann could get out of his life once more, like he wanted.

Seeing Levi snuggle into Rhiann’s embrace had triggered a heated assault on his emotions. The wall of ice surrounding Patrick’s heart had thickened again, though, when he’d read Levi’s birthdate on the chart. It was exactly two years later than his own daughter’s due date.

But his sweet little Everly had never drawn a breath.

Everly would never snuggle into his embrace.

And the woman who had just begged him to save her son’s life had been the one who’d cost him everything.

With a single angry gesture he swept everything from his desk into the floor. Files and stationery fluttered down without much sound, but the metal organizer tray clattered as it hit the floor and bounced.

A tentative knock preceded a soft, “Are you okay in there, Dr. Scott?”

“Leave me alone,” he snarled in response.

The “Jerk...” his nurse muttered was only just audible.

He sank down onto the floor and leaned against the door. Taking some deep breaths, he stared at the platinum band on his left hand. His whispered words were too soft for anyone outside to hear.

“I miss you so much, Mallory. I don’t know how to go on without you.”

CHAPTER TWO
Rhiann

WITH THE WAY Patrick had run out of that exam room like someone had set his lab coat on fire, Rhiann wasn’t entirely certain that she’d gotten through to him. Before he’d rushed out she’d been certain she’d glimpsed a crack in his frozen façade, but now, as the days passed without a word, worry crept in and set up shop.

If Patrick wouldn’t help Levi she had to come up with a backup plan. She was all he had, and she refused to let him down.

On the fifth business day after Levi’s appointment her patience ran out. When she stopped for lunch, she steeled her nerves to call his office and check in. Holding a finger against the twitch at the corner of her eye, Rhiann learned they had already scheduled Levi’s echocardiogram.

And, of course, it was smack-dab in the middle of one of her shifts at work.

Before she could ask to reschedule, her partner shouted over that they had a call and she had to hang up quickly. She shoved the last of her sandwich into her mouth and ran over to Charlie and their rig.

In the three years she’d been a paramedic with County Hospital, Charlie had been her partner. He’d been with County for seventeen years and, beyond having become one of her closest friends, the older man had quickly become her mentor and the nearest thing she had to a father figure.

She had never known her father—that deadbeat having left before she was born. Her mom had told everyone in town she had been widowed while pregnant—not that anyone had believed that. They’d lived in a small but immaculately clean trailer for the entirety of her childhood.

An only child of an only child, Rhiann had never had any other family. That had changed when she’d met Patrick.

Unlike her, Patrick had grown up in an affluent two-parent family. While his mom had never worked, his father had been an award-winning podiatrist. They’d been able to afford sports and extracurricular activities, private tutors, and anything else their son had needed. But, despite her being from a vastly different social class, his parents had always been kind to her, the poor girl from the outskirts of town.

Now her family circle had dwindled down to more of a triangle. She had Levi, and she had Charlie. And that had to be enough. Because she couldn’t risk the damage to her heart if another man let her down.

Dispatch sent them out to a minor car accident, and after that to a nasty burn. Rhiann used the time between calls to tell Charlie about the upcoming tests and surgery.

“How much is all that gonna cost?” Charlie asked. “Sounds like a whole bucket of expensive to me.”

He winced when Rhiann listed off the estimates that the calculator on the insurance website had given her. She’d flinched too when she’d seen the numbers.

“I’ll figure it out somehow,” Rhiann said, gnawing on her lower lip.

The tests and the surgery were going to break her already fragile financial equilibrium, but what choice did she have? Levi needed them, so she’d make it happen. She’d pick up as much overtime as she could, and she’d set up a payment plan with the hospital—like she’d done for his shunt surgery.

Next month, that would finally be paid off. She’d been looking forward to having a larger food budget again, but that was clearly not meant to be. Yet she knew she’d make it.

Charlie looked over from the driver’s seat, a kindhearted look on his age-lined face. “You always do, but it sure would be easier if you had some help.”

Rhiann sighed, ignoring Charlie’s last comment. Pete had no interest in helping support Levi. He had zero interest in being part of Levi’s life. She’d only learned after her separation how little Charlie and the rest of her coworkers had thought of her now ex-husband. The station house had even had a running bet on just how long her marriage would last.

Charlie had won two hundred and thirty bucks for his guess. When she’d found out about it she’d made him take her out to dinner with some of the money before she’d forgiven him for betting on her marital status.

“So, this old doctor friend of yours is going to fix our boy up, right?”

“If anyone can, it’s Patrick.”

She might not have confidence in a lot of things, but she was confident in Patrick’s abilities. Seeing him again, even if it had been hard, had felt good. They’d gotten that first awkward meeting over with now, and maybe someday they could work toward being friends again. He’d looked good, even with the uncharacteristic coldness of his personality, and that new touch of gray in his hair added a distinguished vibe she really liked too.

“What’s that blush about? You hot under your uniform collar for a dude in a lab coat?”

“I am nothing of the sort!”

Rhiann slugged him on his shoulder and laughed. She and Charlie had an easy-going camaraderie that allowed for a lot of teasing. In some ways Charlie had filled a little of the void Patrick’s absence had left in her life. But not entirely. No one could replace Patrick, after all.

He laughed. “That pink in your cheeks tells me enough—now tell me about your doc.”

“He’s not mine.”

“So you’ve said.” Charlie snorted. “But that pretty shade of embarrassment darkening up your cheeks tells me that you want him to be.”

She looked away, staring out the window as they drove back to the station where both the paramedics and the firefighters for the county were based. She wanted to argue, but she didn’t like to lie to Charlie. So she kept her mouth shut for the remainder of the drive.

They had only just pulled in to the station when Dispatch sent them straight back out.

“Couple of teens shooting things out over at the county line...” The voice on the radio crackled out the info and the address followed.

“I hate these calls,” said Charlie, and turned the rig around with a sigh.

He flipped on the lights and sirens as they hurried toward the given address. They kept quiet as they headed to the scene, taking the time to mentally prepare themselves for what they might find. Kids and guns—it was never a good combination.

The address was a gas station just off I-24, and the lot was full as Charlie eased in, trying to find their patient through the crowd of people.

“There,” Rhiann said, pointing to an older sedan with a shattered window near the air pump at the back corner of the lot.

A boy around thirteen, maybe fourteen, lay on the oily pavement next to the rusted car. Blood pooled around his right leg, and the bright red was a dismal sign, even as a young woman pressed what looked to be a jacket to the wound.

Rhiann hopped out of the rig and grabbed her kit.

“I think it hit a vein or an artery or something,” the woman said.

Only a few years older than the boy lying on the pavement, the young woman was about three shades too pale. From experience, Rhiann knew that the shock of this was going to hit the woman hard once the adrenaline rush was over.

“Do you know his name?” Rhiann asked as she gloved up.

“Naw, I never seen him before today. I was just getting air in my tire when he came running up and some guy shot at him. I saw how he was bleeding—there was just so much blood—I took a first aid class and they said to put pressure on wounds, but I didn’t have anything but my hoodie, and—” She finally ran out of air and stopped to take a shuddering breath.

Rhiann had some gauze pads ready. “Okay, you did really good. On the count of three, I want you to take your hoodie away and I’m going to take over, okay? One, two, three.”

On three, the woman pulled the ruined hoodie away, and Rhiann got her first view of the kid’s thigh. A large gaping hole exposed not only injured muscle, but a damaged femoral artery, and blood squirted out with every erratic pump of his heart.

“Charlie!” Rhiann shouted. “Nicked his femoral!”

She reached in and pinched the artery closed with her fingers. With her free hand, she fumbled through her bag.

“I can’t find any clamps that will hold in the position of the damage. We need to get him to a surgeon and fast—before he bleeds out.”

Charlie brought the gurney over and they carefully loaded the teen. Once they got him into the rig, Charlie got an IV started and hopped into the driver’s seat.

“Dispatch, this is Rig Three. That kid you called us out to is in bad shape. Requesting permission to transport to Metro or Vanderbilt, because County’s not going to be able to handle this. They need to have a surgeon meet us, because my partner’s holding this kid’s femoral artery in her hand and he’s already lost a lot of blood.”

Rhiann swallowed hard, feeling the nerves filling her when Dispatch gave Charlie the go-ahead to transport their patient to Metro. Every time a call took them to Metro she worried that Patrick would be in the Emergency Room when they rolled in. But only once had she caught a glimpse of him from a distance, and he hadn’t seen her.

Shaking her head, she returned her full focus to the patient in front of her. “Charlie, you better be standing on that gas pedal, or this kid doesn’t have much of a chance.”

Patrick

“Dr. Scott, we have a three-year-old with a possible murmur. Would you mind taking a look?”

Dr. Dixon’s grating nasally voice had called from behind him. Patrick stopped and spun toward the ER attending, who had stopped his escape from the hospital after rounds.

“Who’s on call from Cardio?”

“Belcher. We’ve paged him three times, though, and he hasn’t responded. I just don’t want to discharge this kid if there’s something serious and I—”

Holding a hand up, Patrick cut the younger doctor off mid-ramble. “I got it. You’re trying to cover your own butt since Belcher isn’t here to do it for you.”

The attending’s ears reddened at the accusation that Patrick had thrown at him, but he didn’t deny it.

“Is that a no?” Dixon asked.

“I’ll take a look. Where’s the patient?”

The attending handed him a file, relief obvious on his face. “He’s in Curtain Two.”

“I’ll find you when I’m done.”

He strode to Curtain Two, where a cursory check told him the boy was fine. He heard no sign of a murmur at all. He’d just shoved the file back into the attending’s hands when a trauma page came from overhead.

“Ready, Trauma Bay One. Ready, Trauma Bay One. Incoming. ETA: two minutes.”

Nurses and doctors came from other rooms and started readying themselves for the incoming ambulance.

“What do we have?” asked, Dr. Abbott, head of trauma.

“Teen with a gunshot wound, possible femoral involvement,” one of the nurses said, gloving up and putting a gown over her scrubs. “Probably going to be a messy one.”

When he saw the rig that pulled in didn’t have an MMH logo on the side Patrick’s curiosity was piqued and he stayed to watch the trauma. But when the doors opened and Rhiann sat straddling the patient, her hand inside the gaping wound on the teenager’s thigh, watching was no longer an option.

Shoving his hands into gloves and quickly donning a gown, he moved to support her as they lowered the gurney from the ambulance.

“I’ve got a young male, approximately thirteen years of age, name unknown. Large-caliber gunshot wound to the upper thigh. The bullet nicked the femoral artery and he lost probably a fourth of his volume at the scene. I couldn’t get a clamp on the bleeder, due to the damage, so I’m currently providing manual pressure. He’s been in and out of consciousness—mostly out.”

Rhiann rattled off stats as they pushed her and the teen through the doors into the trauma bay.

Her face was pinched and the tension in her arm worried him. “Is your hand cramping?”

“Getting there.” She looked up, their eyes meeting. “I’m tightening up, for sure.”

He grabbed some lap pads and moved closer, trying to get a view of what they had to work with in the kid’s thigh. “His thigh is trashed.”

“I couldn’t get a clamp on. The artery is almost shredded under my hand.”

Patrick had an idea. “What if I clamp above and—?”

“Below? And that will let me get out of the way.” She finished his sentence, nodding her agreement with his idea. “And hopefully that will hold until—”

“Until they can get him upstairs and into an OR.” He returned the favor and finished her sentence.

A nurse held a clamp out to him and he took it. He nearly had to lay his head on Rhiann’s shoulder in order to get close enough to get visibility and a good angle on the artery. He clamped it just above her hand.

“Clamp one is in.”

He held his hand out for another clamp. Once the metal instrument was in his palm, he moved closer.

“I’m going beneath your hand now, Rhiann. I’m have to get in real close to be able to see.” He bent down, his head wedged beneath her arm as he tried to see in the shadows.

“Can I get some more light?”

Someone angled one of the moveable overhead lamps.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

His face was close enough to Rhiann’s side that he could feel her breathing, her inhaled breaths bringing her uniform shirt into contact with his cheek. With the back of his wrist he nudged her arm, and she responded by moving it up slightly. It was just enough that he could get the clamp onto the artery, below where her fingers were pinched.

“Okay, I think you can let go now.”

Rhiann eased her hand away from the open wound, and when the artery didn’t spray blood the nurses in the room began to clap.

“That was amazing. It’s like the two of you were sharing a brain,” Dixon commented.

Patrick helped Rhiann off the gurney. As soon as she was clear the teenager was rolled out of the room, rushed straight for the OR, where surgeons would fix what Patrick and Rhiann had only temporarily patched.

Rhiann was flexing and relaxing her stiff hand. She turned away, taking her gloves off and dropping them into the bin.

He followed suit before spontaneously grabbing her hand. He massaged it to help loosen the stiffness. “How long were you holding that kid’s life in your hands?”

“About five minutes?” She shrugged, sighing when his fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot in her sore hand. “I’m not sure of any details right now except that your fingers are magic.”

He ignored her words and focused on getting the last bit of tension out of her hand. “You saved that boy’s life,” he told her.

And she had. Her quick thinking in grabbing that artery with her hands had been the only thing standing between that kid and meeting his maker. Because of her this boy would leave the hospital—and not in a body bag.

“You helped.” She grinned up at him, her eyes bright and full of accomplishment. “I thought my hand was about to fall off before you got that artery clamped.”

Abbott slapped Patrick on the back. “Man, it was good to see the two of you working together again. As morbid as this sounds, I miss the days of you two being in my ER regularly, and seeing you work like a precisely calibrated machine to save a kid’s life.”

As Abbott’s words sank in the fun of the save faded and Patrick remembered exactly why they didn’t work together anymore. The recollection of why everything had changed flooded his mind. His chest tightened at the onslaught of painful memories.

He dropped Rhiann’s hand as if she’d burned him and stepped away He glared at Abbott, who flinched under the scrutiny. “Those days are long past and you’d do well to forget them.”

He left the trauma bay, hands fisted at his side, anger with himself tightening his muscles. He’d let himself get caught up in the adrenaline rush that a trauma could bring. Let himself enjoy the camaraderie and familiarity of working side by side with Rhiann again and let himself trust her every move.

But he couldn’t trust her.

How could he have forgotten that?

CHAPTER THREE
Patrick

PATRICK AND CLAY were following a nurse’s instructions to the staff lounge on the main floor at County. He hadn’t spent enough time at this hospital to know his way around, despite having had surgical privileges there for years.

“Man, I hope there’s some coffee in this place.” Clay fidgeted with the strap of his bag and yawned loudly. “I’m getting too old for these early mornings.”

Patrick raised a brow at his partner. “You aren’t old yet. And it’s not early—in fact, it’s almost noon.”

Clay grinned at him. “I didn’t get home until after midnight, and when I was in bed I wasn’t asleep for some time. I need coffee, but I’m not turning into a pumpkin just yet.”

Rolling his eyes, Patrick pushed open the door marked Employees Only. “You go from Cinderella to the Wicked Witch when you haven’t got enough sleep.”

“My preferred comparison is Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, thank you very much.”

Patrick walked into the small room and set his bag on a table along one side. “Oh, good—there’s coffee.”

A feminine voice from the corner stopped him just as his hand closed on the handle. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

He released the pot and spun around, because he knew that voice.

“Rhiann!” Clay had already stepped forward and was greeting Rhiann like an old friend. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?”

“Hi, Clay.” She accepted Clay’s outstretched hands and held them for a moment before looking in Patrick’s direction. “I’m doing okay.”

“How’s Levi?” Patrick asked.

“We had the EKG this morning. They said they’d send his results over to you as soon as they’re ready.”

He nodded. “Okay...good.”

“Who’s Levi?” Clay asked, looking between Patrick and Rhiann.

“My son. He has something going on with his heart.”

Her eyes met Patrick’s and the certainty he saw there was humbling.

“But if anyone can fix him it’s Patrick.”

Parents came to him because of his reputation. They brought their babies to him because his record spoke for him. He got results. He saved more children than he lost. They trusted his medical skills even though they’d never met him.

This was different.

Rhiann trusted him. Not the world-renowned doctor with awards and plaques hanging on the walls of his state-of-the-art office. She didn’t know or care about the number of articles he’d published in prestigious medical journals or his presentations at top conferences.

No. She trusted Patrick the man.

Despite barely speaking to him for three years, she still trusted him. And that realization brought a lump to his throat that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

“What are you doing here?” Clay asked, pulling Patrick away from his introspection as Rhiann broke eye contact.

“We’re on the clock. Waiting on a transfer. The floor doesn’t have her ready for us yet, so we thought we’d grab a coffee while we waited.”

She waved a hand down at herself. The dark uniform suited her. Her hair was up in a professional-looking twist that left her neck bare...perfect for kissing.

He inhaled sharply. Where had that thought come from?

The older man in the corner cleared his throat. “You might have to grab a gurney and push me down to the ED after this.” He held up a plastic cup filled with dark liquid. “That coffee’s done put hair on my chest. I’m not sure how it hasn’t eaten through this cup yet, but I’m pretty darn sure it’s made its way through my esophagus.”

The man wore a uniform that matched Rhiann’s. He reclined back, legs outstretched, and faked a moan. “It’s killed me, I tell you.”

Rhiann rolled her eyes and snorted. “And that’s my partner, Charlie. If there’s drama to be found, Charlie’s in it up to his ankles.”

“Hey!” Charlie protested.

“Fine—up to his knees.” She smiled indulgently at Charlie, her affection for the older man shining brightly in her eyes.

“Better,” Charlie agreed, nodding his head in her direction before throwing the rest of the coffee back like it was a shot. “Gah! Who needs whiskey when you have County coffee? It burns all the same going down.”

“Don’t worry, old man, I have your antacids out in the rig.” Rhiann laughed at her partner’s antics. Then she turned to Patrick with a smile on her face. “See why I warned you off that stuff?”

“Is there anywhere close where we can get some decent coffee?” Patrick jerked his head toward Clay. “That guy might implode if I don’t get some caffeine in him soon.”

Rhiann shook her head sadly. “Not in this hospital.”

“Close by?”

She pursed her lips in disgust. “Not for miles. They like it strong enough that the spoon bends around here. Charlie still tries to drink it, but I’ve learned my lesson. I think it’s probably too strong for your tastes too. But you might try the nurses’ station up by the trauma ICU. They’ve been known to make a fresh pot for Charlie when he flirts a little. They might even wash the pot for you two.”

Clay winked at her. “Thanks, doll. I always did like you. I’m gonna go see if I can sweet-talk a nurse into a coffee.” He slapped Patrick on the shoulder. “I’ve got my cell—call me when they’re ready for us.”

“What are you guys doing all the way out here at County, anyway?” Rhiann asked. “Metro Memorial is your stomping ground.”

Patrick shrugged. He leaned a hip against the counter. “Usually. But they don’t have a pediatric cardiologist who has done a heart transplant on staff here at the moment, and I still have privileges, so when they needed a procurement team they gave me a call.”

Her eyes teared up. “Someone’s losing their kid today?”

“Several more are having their kids saved today.”

He always tried to focus on the positives, because that was the only way he could get through the day when he had to do a transplant surgery. He focused on how many people each donor had saved, because otherwise he had to remember the pain that came with being a donor’s family. Knowing that Mallory’s last act on earth had been to give life to others had been the only thing that had got him through when he’d lost her.

“How many?” She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

He’d always loved her eyes, the bright green of new spring grass, and the tears in them now made the color even more vivid.

“I’m not sure.” He thought back to all that he’d been told in the phone call. “I don’t remember. I know the heart is going to a seven-year-old in Ohio. And the lungs to a nine-year-old in Pennsylvania.”

“Small comfort, I suppose.”

She smiled at him, but the sadness radiating from her eyes penetrated deep into his soul. She looked as if the world had just collapsed on her and she couldn’t hold it up any longer.

Rhiann had always been so strong, but there was an air of fragility to her now.

He pushed away from the counter and laid a hand on her shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the frailness in her frame. “You okay?”

She nodded.

Charlie’s radio crackled behind them, alerting them that their patient was now ready for transport.

“We need to go, Rhiann.”

Patrick wanted to say more, but he didn’t know where to begin or how to condense it down into a moment or two. His mouth opened and closed with no sound while Rhiann gazed up at him. Those big green eyes had been rendering him stupid for years, and it seemed they hadn’t lost their power over him.

“I’ve got to go.”

She gave him a quick hug and was gone again before he could return the gesture. Her arms around him had stunned him, and he couldn’t process the feel of her softness pressed against him before she’d moved away and the entire moment was gone.

Clay came back in as Rhiann and Charlie rushed out.

“I come bearing gifts.” He held out a cup of steaming coffee. “Rhiann was right—the nurses up there are incredibly friendly. I walked away with coffee for us both and three phone numbers.”

Patrick took the coffee and sank down into a chair with a sigh.

“Wanna talk about that hug I just saw?” asked Clay.

He shook his head. There was no way he could talk about what he himself was struggling to understand. Having Rhiann’s arms around him had him so mixed up it was like he had been thrown in a blender. How could he want to hug someone he had sworn to hate?

“No? How do you feel about Rhiann reappearing in your life?”

Patrick lowered his eyes to the coffee in his hand. “I don’t want to talk about that either,” he growled out.

“You haven’t seen her in a long time. You have to be feeling something about her showing up after so long. She was your best friend for half your life.” He paused. “Still don’t wanna talk? Okay, I’ll talk. You listen.”

Clay moved a chair until he was sitting directly in front of Patrick.

“Your best friend there still wants to be a part of your life. You need to pull your head out of your nether regions long enough so that you can see that.”

He took a sip of his coffee and stared at Patrick until the urge to squirm was almost more than he could bear. Clay had a gift for making anyone feel like a child with a simple raised brow.

“I can’t trust her. She let—”

“I know what you think she did, and I still maintain that you’re wrong—because Rhiann is a walking heart. She cares too much about everyone she meets. I know she would have done everything possible, even if you are too stubborn to see that.” Clay plowed over Patrick’s objections like an unsubtle bulldozer. “What if Rhiann has come back into your life for a reason?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m saying outright that you need to forgive her. And you need to forgive yourself for not being there when Mallory and Everly died. You couldn’t have saved them, and you need to accept that Rhiann couldn’t either.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice.” Patrick stood up, intending to put some space between himself and his annoying partner.

Clay rose to his feet and blocked the only exit. “And yet I’m still offering it—and it’s because you need to hear it. These last three years you’ve been grieving, and I gave you space to do that. But all this negativity is eating you alive, man. You have to stop just existing and move forward with your life. Do you think Mallory would be happy about how you’ve been living? About you being alone and shutting everyone out?”

“Clay—”

“Mallory would be heartbroken at the thought of you freezing out your best friend over her. She knew how much Rhiann meant to you.” Clay got one more stab in. “I’m surprised that you’ve forgotten.”

“Shut up, Clay.”

But Clay continued, “I think that woman holds the key to your future happiness in the palm of her tiny little hand, and I think you are too smart to lose her twice.”

Patrick’s phone buzzed with the notification that their patient was ready for them. He glared at his partner and changed the subject. “We need to go scrub.”

Clay tossed his cup into the trash and gave Patrick a somber look. “Once again, saved by the bell. One day you won’t be so lucky. You’ll have to face your past and learn to forgive.”

Rhiann

Rhiann could tell by the number of glances that her partner kept sneaking in her direction that he had something to say. The older man was not known for subtlety, but he’d wait until they had a modicum of privacy before he unleashed his opinion on her.

Thankfully they had a patient who was not only awake, but chatty, so that should buy her a little time while she tried to figure out just what had happened in that break room with Patrick.

They were transporting an elderly woman back to her assisted living facility after a short hospital stay.

“Tell me something good,” the lady said, reaching out to pat Rhiann’s arm with her age-spotted hand. “I’ve got to go back to the home with all those old biddies who have nothing better to do than compare whose health is worse.”

“I don’t know much that’s good right now. I’m not the one to ask.” Rhiann laughed a wry, humorless laugh. “I can switch spots with Charlie and you can do a little flirting, though?”

“You’ll do no such thing. I remember Charlie when he was hiding behind his mama’s skirts. I can no sooner flirt with that child than I can run a marathon.” She clucked her disapproval. “What kind of woman do you take me for? I’m no cradle-robber.”

Rhiann met Charlie’s gaze in the mirror, smiling at the hint of red she saw tingeing his cheeks. “Oh, really? Maybe you’re the one who needs to tell me something good, then. You have any dirt on my partner that I might use to my advantage?”

“You could tell her about that pair of doctors you were getting friendly with while we waited on her to get ready,” Charlie said loudly. “I’m sure she would rather hear about two handsome single doctors who got a little handsy with you in the break room than tell a story about me when I was a snot-nosed brat.”

“Oh, yes? Are you being courted by two doctors?” Their patient’s furrowed face lit with excitement. “Do tell me. I love a good romance.”

Rhiann sighed, not wanting to disappoint the old woman. “There is no romance.”

“You only say that because you didn’t see the look in that man’s eyes when he thought you weren’t watching.” Charlie snorted. “If I could show you what I saw...”

A wrinkly hand waved, urging Rhiann to spill her story. “If you don’t tell me I’ll get Charlie to—and, while I know his version will be quite entertaining, it will only contain a hint of the truth.”

Rhiann pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. But there is no romance.”

“Let me be the judge.”

“The abbreviated version is that the two doctors are old friends of mine—Patrick and Clay. I met Patrick in high school, where we became best friends from day one. He went off to med school while I stayed here locally, and when he came back it was with a wife and Clay. We were all friends for some time, and then something tragic happened. Patrick’s wife and daughter...” She trailed off, unable to finish that part of the story. She wrapped up her tale in a no-nonsense, definitive tone. “Now we aren’t friends anymore. See, I told you—no romance.”

“Hmm...” the woman said. “That’s quite a story you’ve told in only a few words there.”

“You notice she only really told you about one of them. Right?” Charlie said.

Rhiann closed her eyes and sighed. “Charlie...” she warned.

“She only told you about one because she barely saw the other one. I was only teasing about her having the two of them after her. Even if poor Clay was interested he doesn’t stand a chance—not standing next to Patrick.”

“It sounds like there are a lot of strong emotions on both sides,” the elderly lady said wisely.

“Hate is definitely a strong emotion,” Rhiann agreed.

“Except hate is not what that man’s feeling for you.”

“Shut up, Charlie.”

Charlie laughed from the front of the rig. “She got a little emotional and he nearly launched himself across the room to comfort her. Couldn’t help himself—he just had to touch her. That’s not how a man reacts to someone he can’t stand. Even if he hasn’t admitted to himself that he’s got feelings for her, let me tell you, he’s got them.”

“My mama, God rest her soul, always used to say you couldn’t have hate without love,” said their patient. She shifted on the gurney. “I believe that’s true. Maybe the boy had to hate you so he could see how much he loves you now.”

Rhiann shook her head. “You’re as bad as Charlie, aren’t you?” She ignored the hope that was trying to blossom in her heart like a stray flower in the crack of a city sidewalk. “I’m going to tell you what I tell him—and that’s that I don’t have time for romance. There’s no room in my life for a bunch of hopes and dreams I have no control over. The only man I have room for in my life is my son, and I don’t need anyone else.”

“Pshaw! You’re too young to be so jaded.” She reached out and grasped Rhiann’s hand.

“He shut me out entirely—told me to stay out of his life. Not only that, but he shook my faith in my own abilities. I gave up a job I loved to better be able to avoid him. If I’m jaded, there are plenty of reasons,” Rhiann said quietly.

“Well, you met me, though, so that was fate,” Charlie argued. “But I’m telling you true: that man might have some hate for you, but there’s something far deeper peeking out when he looks at you.”

“Listen to an old lady and don’t let a chance at love pass you by. You might get burned—but what if you don’t?”

Rhiann held the woman’s hand, closing her eyes before tears made it to the surface. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“You have his cell number, right?” Charlie asked.

“Yes...”

“Call him.”

The old woman made a tsking sound. “That’s a bit forward. Perhaps you could send him one of those little messages on his phone, though. Just something small.”

“Oh, yeah, a text might be better,” Charlie agreed. “Ask him how his surgery went. How many kids that donor saved. I bet he’s found out since you mentioned it.”

“I don’t know about this...”

Rhiann swallowed hard. Patrick had made his position clear, and while he had shown hints of the friend she’d lost he was still ice-cold in most of their interactions. What if she pushed too far and he refused to help Levi as a result?

“Text him.” Charlie’s voice got gruff and his words came out like orders. “Go on.”

“Yes, dear—go on.” The elderly lady smiled at Rhiann. “I insist.”

“Peer pressure doesn’t end in high school, does it?”

Rhiann pulled her phone out and tapped in a message, asking if Patrick had found out how many lives the donor had saved. Surely such a simple follow-up question wouldn’t be too upsetting?

She shoved the phone back into her pocket, her cheeks warming as she blushed. “There. Done. And when he ignores me I’m going to come over and tell you about it.”

“I’d love to have you visit—even if it is just to say I told you so.”

Rhiann’s heart softened at the hope in her patient’s voice. She squeezed the elderly woman’s hand. “My son has some health issues that make taking him out much a little dangerous right now, so I can’t make any promises. But I’ll do my best to visit when I can.”

Charlie volunteered to visit on occasion too, and they passed the rest of the ride in simple small talk that took some of the pressure off Rhiann.

They’d dropped the patient off and were sitting around at the station house when Patrick’s response came.

Six lives saved. Heart, lungs, kidneys to two

patients, liver, and pancreas.

She held the phone close to her heart and tried not to tear up. Not just because six lives had changed for the better that day, but for the family whose world was now shattered.

“That your doc?” asked Charlie.

She wiped at her eyes. “I told you before—he’s not mine.”

“Yet.” Charlie winked as he went to clock out. “Keep texting him and he might be.”

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