Steel: (#5 The Beat and the Pulse) Read online

“Emergency?” Josh asked, his brow creased.

  “Yeah, I’ve gotta go.” I fumbled with the phone, hooking it back onto the waistband of my scrubs.

  “Will I see you before I go tomorrow?” he asked as I scooped up my tablet.

  “I don’t know,” I said hastily, my mind firmly on the fucked-up tumor I was about to help Archer carve out of a kid’s spine. My gaze met Josh’s, and I regretted the fact that this was probably it. There wasn’t enough time to get to know anything about him and this silly attraction. Maybe that’s all it was. A silly crush on a mystery man.

  “Good luck,” he murmured, his gaze falling away. He was disappointed? Was I reading it right?

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my shoulders sagging. “I’ve really gotta go.”

  He nodded once, and I spun on my heel, running from the room and down the hall where I thumped my fist on the elevator call button.

  When I reached OR Three, Archer was already suiting up, and Sammy was being wheeled into the theater.

  “What happened?” I asked as the door swung closed behind me.

  Archer glanced up and grimaced. “He took a sharp turn an hour ago,” he explained. “There was too much risk trying to bring his symptoms under control with meds, not with the surgery looming. It was now or never.”

  I sighed and looked at the little boy as the anesthesiologist readied him to go under. He couldn’t hold on another twelve hours until we were scheduled to operate. The poor kid. I thought about his parents, who were probably huddled in the waiting room upstairs, and tears prickled behind my eyes.

  “Scrub in, Hol,” Archer said, turning on the nearest tap. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  11

  Josh

  I sat in the waiting room down the hall from the ER, my broken arm cradled in my lap.

  My duffle bag sat at my feet as I watched the comings and goings of the Emergency Department of St. Vincent’s. Occasionally, an ambulance would scream up the driveway outside, and a gurney would be rolled in among a furor of activity from the doctors and nurses, and then things would go back to a dull roar.

  I’d been discharged over an hour ago, but I wasn’t keen to go anywhere else just yet. Something seemed to be unfinished, and it had everything to do with a certain doctor. Never in my entire life had I found myself so hung up over a woman that I waited in a cesspool of human deterioration hoping to see her.

  But Sparks hadn’t come back.

  A body flopped down onto the seat beside me, and I stiffened. Glancing at Dr. Gunner, I remembered she said this was her scene. The ER.

  “Mr. Caplin, right?” she asked, knowing full well who I was.

  “Josh,” I replied. “You don’t have to be pro now that they let me out.”

  “Josh,” she said with a wide smile. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m cool.”

  She glanced around the waiting room at the old people and the mothers with their kids who had fallen off their bikes and cracked their arms, and then turned back to me.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  I shrugged. I wasn’t here for her if that’s what she was getting at, and the more time that passed, the more I forgot why I even bothered sticking around.

  “She’s still in surgery,” Dr. Gunner declared, leaning back in the crappy plastic seat. “At least, I’m pretty sure she is. Archer said it would take at least twelve hours or more.”

  She was operating with the clean-cut superhero that was Dr. Archer. Stiff competition.

  Thinking back to when Sparks had come to see me last night, I couldn’t remember the time, but it seemed like it was about that long. How anyone could stand there and be that amazing for any amount of time, let alone twelve hours, was beyond me. Just another bullet point in the long list of reasons why Dr. Walsh was way above my pay grade.

  “I can get a message to her if you like,” Gunner offered when I didn’t answer.

  She looked so hopeful I almost caved, but if Sparks wanted to see me outside the hospital, she would’ve already done something about it. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but the slow burn of disappointment still sat heavy on my chest.

  “Nah,” I said, rising to my feet. “It was never going to work out, anyway.”

  Gunner went to open her mouth but I was already walking away, my duffle bag clutched in my left hand. I was a two-week long flirtation, a stress reliever. Probably well needed considering the poor kid she was currently operating on. I shouldn’t be pissed about it—that would make me a fucking bastard. It was the exact same thing I did to the string of women who came before her. The same but without the sex, that was.

  It was better I walked away now than sit in that stupid seat waiting for a woman who was never coming back. That was the metaphor of my fucking life if I ever saw one.

  The doors swished open as I approached, and I stepped out into the world. I didn’t realize how much I missed the sun until I felt its rays on my skin. The sounds of inner city Melbourne reached my ears, and the quiet of the hospital ward upstairs seemed dull in comparison. Cars, trucks, and buses roared past, a tram dinged in the distance, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees that lined the little grassy patch behind the hospital.

  Everyone had someplace to be, someplace they were wanted and needed. Everyone but my sorry ass. Nothing was in my orbit, and even though I had an apartment I rented, it still wasn’t anywhere close to being home. I hadn’t had a real one of those since I was nineteen. Eight years drifting…

  Strolling forward, I began to walk away from the hospital, but then I saw a woman hunched over on a bench. A woman in a white coat. A woman with fire for hair.

  My heart twisted before soaring with hope, and I moved closer. I didn’t know her, not really, but I knew it was her. I stood behind her and almost didn’t say anything, but it was a last chance kind of moment, so I took it.

  “Sparks?” My voice came out uncertain. Distant and far away.

  She straightened up and wiped her eyes before turning. “Josh. I thought you’d been discharged.”

  “Just now,” I lied, stepping forward. She didn’t need to know I’d been waiting for her, but I reckon Dr. Gunner would tell her later on, regardless. “Are you all right?”

  Her hair was even more brilliant in the sunlight, and I knew I’d picked her nickname right. It shimmered with flecks of deep red and orange as she moved, like she was some kind of angel made of fire.

  She shrugged. “Long night.”

  Taking a deep breath, I rounded the bench and sat next to her, dumping my bag by my feet.

  I stared down the side street to where traffic zoomed back and forth down Nicholson Street. A tram rumbled by, crammed full of morning commuters. “You were operating on that kid.”

  She glanced at me, drawing my gaze to hers, and I saw that her eyes were red with tears, her skin red and puffy. It hadn’t gone well.

  “Josh…” she choked out, and she didn’t need to ask…or explain. I just raised my left arm and she fell against me, resting her head on my chest while she cried, her shoulders shuddering.

  She cared, maybe too much, but I didn’t know how else she should be reacting when a kid had died on the table. Her table. Her patient. I’m sure she did everything in her power, but it didn’t make it any easier when the grand scheme was against her from the start.

  All I knew was I’d be an asshole if I walked away from her now, regardless of what she did or didn’t want from me. It was just a good thing to do, and since I had nowhere I wanted to be, I did it.

  Raising my right hand, I trailed my fingers through her hair, the cast making the gesture awkward. She felt good in my arms. She was a tiny thing, tall and willowy, and her scent still reminded me of oranges. Something tropical with a touch of spice that brought all kinds of fruit to mind.

  “I knew,” she said through a shuddering breath. “I knew there was a chance he wouldn’t make it. I advised against it, bu
t we were his last shot.”

  “Knowing doesn’t make it feel any less shitty,” I murmured, resting my cheek against the top of her head.

  “His parents put their faith in us, and we couldn’t help him.”

  “They knew the risks, Sparks. I know you. You would’ve told them straight up. You sure didn’t sugarcoat it with me.”

  Her hands curled into my shirt, and she pressed against me, her body fitting alongside mine like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

  “It’s the job,” I said, offering her own words back to her. “You can’t save everyone.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “Sometimes, it just gets a little too much.”

  We sat for a moment, and as I rubbed my left hand up and down her arm, we just existed. It was really fucking nice until she extracted herself from my arms and sat up.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t mean to pile my shit on you.”

  As we sat there in silence on that stupid bench, I knew she was the only person I wanted in my life. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something drawing me to her like a magnet. There was a definite attraction there, I couldn’t deny it, but there was also something else I didn’t understand. I just wanted to be around her despite the intimidation factor.

  Lifting my hand, I plucked the pen from her pocket as her surprised gaze followed my movements. Sliding my right hand under hers, I balanced her palm over my cast. Using my left, I wrote my phone number along her soft skin in shaky lines. When I was done, I clicked the pen and slipped it back into her pocket.

  “Use it,” I said. “Any time. For anything.”

  Sparks stared at the back of her hand, her face hidden from mine by a wall of fire. Running my fingers along the strands, I tucked it behind her ear, the scent of her perfume heavy on the air.

  When she didn’t say anything, I shoved down the bitter taste of disappointment and picked up my bag. Rising to my feet, I hesitated, waiting for a miracle that never came.

  “See ya, Sparks,” I murmured and walked away.

  * * *

  The shithole flat I kept in Northcote in Melbourne’s north was cold as ice when I opened the door.

  Stepping across the threshold, the place was familiar, but at the same time, it wasn’t. It’d been two weeks since I’d been here last, and it was still the same empty piece of shit it always was.

  Luckily for me, the power was still on, there was some food in the freezer, and my car was still parked in its spot in the yard below. Like that was the prize at the end of this story.

  Dumping my bag on the couch, I breathed in deeply, but all I got was the disgusting scent of mold. Crossing the room, I opened the windows and let the breeze waft through the pitiful remains of my life. It was just another room with nothing but my thoughts in it. Thoughts that didn’t need thinking ever again.

  No fights meant no money coming in. I had some saved, but it wouldn’t last forever. What was I supposed to do now that my only income stream was cut off?

  Wandering into the bathroom, I flicked the light on and stared at my battered face in the mirror. It was much better than it had been when I first woke up. My black eye had faded to a splotchy yellow, and almost all of the cuts had healed. I’d have some gnarly scars to add to my collection, but nothing to get all worked up about.

  Staring down at my cock, I thought about giving myself a hand job since it’d been a while, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it still worked after being numb for a week. A twitch didn’t mean nothin’. It’d be hard work with my left hand since I favored my right, but that was still encased in an inch or so of plaster.

  I could think about Sparks… Shit, Sparks crying in my arms over a kid. Even though I was alone and nobody would ever know, I still couldn’t bring myself to fist my cock and think about her.

  I stared at my reflection again and wondered why the hell I was born anyway.

  Listening for some kind of noise in the silence, her face materialized in my mind’s eye.

  I missed Sparks and her smart mouth already…but did she miss me?

  12

  Holly

  The room was dark, except for the glow from the backlit scans up on the walls.

  Standing with my arms crossed over my chest, I stared at the tumor that had claimed a little boy’s life, wondering what I could have done differently. Its cancerous tendrils had woven around the spinal cord, strangling the life from the lower part of the body.

  What could I have done?

  When I’d sliced into his skin and revealed the growth, it was much worse than the scans revealed. It always looked different. Shades of pink and white, so obviously an alien object inside the human body. The deeper we went, the more I realized that this thing had a stranglehold, and it was more than just a mass that needed to be excised from the body. The vertebrae were brittle, riddled with the remains of what the cancer had wrought.

  I still thought I could’ve done it. I could’ve saved him if I’d just tried a little harder.

  Surgeons cheat death every day. We fixed the things in people that were broken. Sometimes we couldn’t patch up the worst of them—not that we didn’t want to but because it was just too late. Us surgeons? We’re big fat cheaters giving the middle finger to the Grim Reaper. Not today, Grim old buddy old pal. Not today.

  Staring at Sammy’s scans, I knew there’d been slim hope that we could save him, but it still weighed heavily on my shoulders. The responsibility that had been placed on me was enormous…and I couldn’t live up to it.

  The door opened behind me, and I jumped, my heart skipping a beat as the room flooded with artificial light. Turning, I found Archer behind me, and I suppressed a groan that was just itching to burst forth.

  “What are you doing?” he asked even though it was obvious.

  “Looking at scans.”

  He peered closer and blew out a sharp breath. “The tumor?”

  “The. Tumor,” I replied haughtily.

  “That was a tough bastard,” he mused, peering at the scans I now knew back to front. “It was such a shame.”

  I didn’t know what he was getting at, so I kept my mouth shut and hoped he’d go away.

  “You can’t get hooked up on a bad outcome,” he went on oblivious to the fact I thought he was the biggest ass on the face of the planet. “Learn from it, and move on.”

  “So soon?” I asked, scowling at his back.

  He turned to face me. “Is there any better time?”

  “How can you be so whatever about it?” I asked, staring at him incredulously.

  Archer shrugged. “Everyone was aware of the risks, Hol. We knew death was likely, but circumstance pushed us to operate, and that was the outcome. There’s no changing that.”

  I stared at him, my mouth falling open. Have a little empathy, Archer. He could sweet-talk patients and their families like a pro, but I never knew it was skin deep. Even assholes had a little something under the surface. The way he just stood there and wiped his hands clean was cold. Really fucking cold.

  Like he saw right through my anguish, he strode forward and plucked the scans from the screens one by one before tossing them inside their case like they were rubbish. Turning back to me, he moved closer.

  “Let it go, Hol,” he murmured in my ear. “It’s done.”

  Like a conveyor belt of meat.

  His hand slid onto my shoulder, and I jerked away, his touch sending shivers of revulsion down my spine. Spinning on my heel, I strode from the room, the door slamming behind me. I felt like I was going to puke.

  Jogging down the hall past some startled hospital employees, I shoved into the ladies’ room and rushed into the last stall, locking the door behind me before I could blow. Leaning over the bowl, I heaved, emptying what little I managed to consume at breakfast into the porcelain. Why had this one case gotten to me so much? Was it because it was a child? I didn’t know.

  And Archer…fuck. I knew I hadn’t been here that long, but his true co
lors were beginning to show. And to think Gunner had pushed me toward him. Ugh.

  Sinking to the floor, I leaned my cheek against the cubicle wall, allowing the coolness of the tiles to soothe my feverish skin.

  If death wasn’t the end, what could we count on? You sure couldn’t count on life because it was the most unstable and fragile thing there was, and in a moment, it could all be gone. And then what are we left with? The next great mystery.

  Slipping my phone from my pocket, I opened the contacts and stared at the number I’d saved yesterday. Was it only yesterday? Maybe it had been longer. I wasn’t sure what day it was anymore considering I hadn’t left the hospital for a while. I’d been catching a few hours’ sleep here and there when I couldn’t stand up any more. If the Chief of Surgery caught me, I’d be sent home for at least two days or more.

  I couldn’t go home.

  Home was empty and full of boxes I hadn’t bothered unpacking.

  Home was full of thoughts I didn’t want to think.

  I didn’t think I’d see Josh again, but the moment I’d let my carefully schooled facade of professionalism slip, he’d appeared out of thin air like he was some kind of Houdini. No judgment, no smart quips. He was just…kind. His arms around me, his cheek against the top of my head, and his scent… Josh, Josh, Josh, Josh.

  My gaze flicked to the time displayed at the top of the screen, and when I saw it was after eleven p.m., I almost turned the phone off and put him out of my mind, but his words came back to me. Use it. Any time. For anything.

  My finger hovered over his number, and I thought about it, I really did, but something stopped me. Too much heaviness from the past still weighed on my heart, and Josh had enough of his own problems to deal with. There were too many question marks over his head, and he’d never told me anything despite letting him know I wasn’t going to talk to anyone else. Like he’d ever intended to share them with me. For all his kindness when he’d sat there and comforted my crying ass, he had a mountain of secrets to match…and then some. In reality, I didn’t even know the guy. Why would he bother with me?