Cheryl Wyatt - The Doctor's Devotion

Mitch got updates on all triaged patients then headed to the next critical. He threw on a surgical cap and mask, scrubbed in and backed through his sterile suite. Thankfully, someone had readied the room. Nurses from somewhere were gowned and counting instruments. Eagle Point. Welcome home.

The staff gowned and gloved Mitch, then transferred the patient in. Mitch began exploratory surgery. “Clamp.”

Someone pressed it into his hand. “Clamp.”

“Scalpel.” Mitch grew impressed at the speed and accuracy with which she passed instruments.

Intense part of the surgery over, Mitch tilted to view the assistant and found himself absorbed in Lauren’s eyes. Delight rippled through him. He smiled, though she couldn’t see through his mask. “Hello, Nurse Bates. Thought you sounded familiar.”

She blinked rapidly, which revealed how nervous she was. Her cheek above the mask twitched.

He leaned closer. “You’re doing great, Lauren.”

“You, too,” she whispered back.

“Suture.”

She pressed it confidently into his hand. “Suture.”

He hadn’t even told her what thread size or type. Nice.

Upon closing the wound, Mitch rested his elbow against Lauren’s. He liked the feel of her working at his side. “So, Bates, my recovery nurse pulled out at the last minute, which means I’m hiring. You interested?”

She scowled above her mask. “Are you insane?”

He laughed. “Guess that’s a no.”

She shook her head, proving she really thought he was crazy. After the patient was moved to recovery, Lauren stayed while Mitch checked the progress of other patients. Surgeons and staff had come from nearby Refuge. Mandy or the mayor must’ve called for backup. Mitch didn’t recognize anyone from when he had lived in Eagle Point prior to entering the service. Hard to tell with no one in street clothes. Not even his primary trauma team.

Mitch was glad Eagle Point’s reporter suggested they wear scrubs for the ribbon-cutting to look official. Instruments in his lab coat had saved life-giving seconds. God had ways of taking care of them and patients in their charge. Like choppers being present. Therefore Mitch believed God would fix his acute staffing problem. Lord, if You could do that STAT, I’d appreciate it.

Lauren approached that instant and handed him a chart. Hmm. “We’ve cleared a room and pre-opped the next case.”

“Would you like to assist me again?” He smiled.

She scowled. “Would you like a knuckle sandwich?” She sighed. Tilted her head. “Fine. If you need the help, I will.”

“We have sufficient help now.”

Her eyes widened. “Then why on earth would you ask me? I’m not cut out for this.” Papers fluttered as her arm waved.

“Because you need to trust you.” He took the chart and nodded toward recovery. “If they’re okay in there, you’re free to go.” He left her with his words. No time to waste. The next patient was on the table.

Multiple surgeries later, Mitch exited the broken-in operating area and peeled off his cap. He stood beside his team, hand-washing in silence. “We tried, guys.”

His words didn’t mend Kate’s melancholy or lift Ian’s irritation. Ian glared at the ceiling, looking tempted to take the injustice up with God. “It’s not right when the wrong one dies.”

“Chin up. She could’ve been your daughter,” Mitch said of the texting teenage girl who’d survived while her victim did not.

“No. Mine won’t be texting when she’s driving.”

“How can you be sure?” Mitch leaned against an IV pole.

“Because she’s not getting her license until she’s thirty.” A smile breached Ian’s weary face.

“How’s custody stuff going?” Mitch asked tentatively, knowing Ian was enduring a painfully ugly and disillusioning divorce.

Ian’s jaw clicked. “Not in my favor.”

Which accounted for Ian’s rift with God. Ian’s crumbled marriage cemented Mitch’s belief that distance only ruined relationships. That also mutilated Mitch’s last relationship when his girlfriend’s unit moved to another area of Afghanistan.

Precisely why he should re-up his efforts to ignore an unexpected attraction to a cute, carrottopped Texan.

“Sorry, bud.” Mitch wished he could ease Ian’s pain. And prevent repeating his own, which made him wonder why he’d entertained an attraction to Lauren at all. Mitch shook his head. “Man. All my brain cells must’ve dehydrated in the desert.”

“Nah. You have at least two left.”

“Then one’s hiding and the other fled to go find it.”

Ian laughed. “Why you say that?”

“You don’t want to know.” Mitch’s ridiculous attraction to Lauren was better off unmentioned. He’d just gotten over his girlfriend who broke up with him because they were long-distance. Lauren lived in Texas, which meant she was off-limits. Mitch wasn’t looking to break his heart twice in one year. Safer to lean on the wary side while getting to know Lauren this summer. A feat, since Lem already exacted some pretty stealthy matchmaking maneuvers on them.

Thankfully Lauren was the furthest thing from interested in him, too. So jealous, she probably bled green rather than red.

Ian eyed him peculiarly then retreated to the staff lounge. Mitch ran a last patient round. As Kate stood in the hall updating Mitch, a rush of red hair caught his eye.

“Lauren?” Surprise coursed through him.

She leaned out of a linen closet. “Yes?”

“You’re still here?” He approached Lauren slowly lest she unleash the anger he’d glimpsed earlier. Calm filled her face—and some other expression he couldn’t place.

“Surprised?” She smiled.

“I am. Thought you left hours ago. You’re free to.”

She fiddled with the blanket. “I know.”

He kept a gentle distance. She stepped away then turned back.

He readied for an explosion. Her face stayed thoughtful.

“Mitch?” Her mouth fumbled with words, which drew his attention to full lips. Bright red. Probably that color from dehydration, running halls for hours with nothing to drink.

He wrestled his unruly attention back to her eyes.

Finally she held his gaze. “I wanted to say thanks.”

He nodded, not wanting her to have to explain.

By not giving her the chance to opt out of helping, he’d given her something unexpected. Had her confidence in her nursing skills been restored by this horrible accident?

“Lauren?” He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“Yes, Dr. Wellington?” She paused. Lovely profile.

“How many more patients might you go on to help now?”

“Tonight?” She looked haggard at the thought.

“No. We’re done here tonight. I meant how many more patients…in life.”

She blinked rapidly but didn’t answer.

“Any?”

She bravely met his gaze and his question with an honest but vulnerable face. “Not sure. Jury’s still out on that one.”

“Would you reconsider my vacant nurse position?”

She looked shocked that he’d ask again. “I’m honored you’d trust me, but no. My life is in Texas.”

“But your grandfather is here.”

Scowling, she chewed her lip. “Thank you, Dr. Obvious.”

Mitch chuckled. “We need an assertive charge nurse. I have it on good faith you can hold your own with bossy physicians.”

She rolled her eyes. “My patient’s blanket is getting cold. Your patient, rather.”

Her answer far from pacified.

“Very well.” He motioned. “Carry on.”

Face lifted, she hugged the blanket. “It’s for the texting teenage girl. I heard you lost her passenger. I’m sorry.”

Mitch nodded. “We did everything we could.”

She searched his eyes. “I admire you and your team. How do you do it? Lose someone yet never give up?”