There are a few people milling around the halls, and I know that if Westin were to see us talking, it would send the wrong signal. My feelings for Bryce are dead, just like the love we once shared.
“I’ll be in to see Allison soon.”
He takes a step closer, not listening to my not so subtle hint. “I’m sorry about that day at the bar. I just want to say . . .”
His apology doesn’t change anything. The truth is, all of this is on me. I was the one who allowed his wife to stay in my trial. I knew it wouldn’t be good for anyone, and I should’ve never touched the drugs, no matter what I was grappling with. If Bryce had never put the idea in my head, I never would’ve done it, but that’s like saying someone commits murder because you give them a gun.
I did this.
I chose to risk my career and the man who is beginning to mean more to me than I ever dreamed because I was lost for a bit. I felt as though my world didn’t make sense after losing my mother and then Mrs. Whitley. Having Bryce around brought all of that doubt back and I questioned myself. Was I not fighting hard enough for my mother? Was I not doing enough for my patients? Was I willing to let another person lose everything because of me? The weight that rested on my shoulders was too much, and I broke. My morals and ethics were blurred, but they’re not now.
I made the choice to change the drugs, and while no one truly knows other than me, I’m going to do the right thing from now on. I’ll treat Allison to the best of my ability, and her husband will be like every other spouse.
“Mr. Peyton, you don’t owe me any apologies.” I take a few steps as he stands there stunned. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions when I make my rounds.”
“Don’t do this,” he says.
“I’m sorry, but this is how it should’ve been all along,” I say as I leave him behind me, where he belongs. “Goodbye, Mr. Peyton.”
Chapter 25
“Scans look good, Ren,” Westin says as he reviews them beside me.
“Yeah, no growth, so that’s always good. This one looks like it might have shrunk a little.” I compare the two reports side by side.
It’s minimal, but I’ll take it.
“Good, I have a surgery later, so I’ll sign off now.” Westin scribbles his signature and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll see you later.”
“Save a life,” I say as he walks away.
“That’s the plan,” he chuckles and exits.
I gather everything up, and head in to see Allison. Her results showed no growth, but I’m a little concerned with a few of the other tests. When I get to the door, she’s yelling on the phone.
Before I can get back out of view, she yells, “Wait! Dr. Adams! Mom, I have to call you back.”
“I can come later,” I say.
“No, no, it’s fine. I was just arguing with my mother about my wayward brother.”
I smile. “I have one of those. When my mother died, he became even worse.”
Allison groans. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine that was easy for you.”
I shrug. “It’s life, right? We just have to deal with the cards we’re dealt. I’m lucky I have my father . . .”
“And your sexy doctor boyfriend,” she wiggles her brows.
“And him,” I agree.
Allison tells me a little more about her family, and I’m amazed at how many things we have in common. She lost her father a few years ago, whereas I lost my mother. She’s a lawyer and a philanthropist and gives a lot of her time now to help her firm with cases that will help better the world.
I’d like to think as a doctor, I do the same.
“My brother is why I chose to become a lawyer. Someone had to be retained for all the illegal things he does,” she laughs, but it’s not funny. I can see the trouble in her eyes. “Family, right?”
“Yeah, they’re something.”
“So? We were just chatting away, and I’m sure you came in here for more than a chat, right? Is everything okay?” she asks.
Crap. Yes, that’s the point of this, not to be her friend. I’m a little concerned with a few things on her bloodwork. It could be nothing, but I won’t run that risk.
“The scans came back good,” I say quickly. That’s usually the biggest worry. “But your iron is a little low. How are you feeling? Are you dizzy or weak?”
Allison rubs her stomach. “I’m really fine other than the cramping.”
Cramping wouldn’t be caused by anemia.
I move over to the side of her bed. “Can I take a look?”
She nods.
I press around. Her abdomen is firm, but that’s not necessarily abnormal. “I’m going to run a few more tests, order an ultrasound, and just ensure we’re seeing the whole picture.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I pat her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, we’ll figure out what’s going on.”
“Thank you,” she says and then crumples over, clutching her stomach.
“Allison?”
Her eyes are wide, and she’s holding her breath. “Damn it,” she cries out and then I watch the color drain from her face. “God, it hurts!”
I hit the button to call the nurse in. Something is wrong.
“Take a deep breath, Allison. I’m right here. Is it your stomach?”
“Yes, it’s like stabbing,” she huffs.
My training kicks in and I start to assess everything. I pull the sheet back, to find blood everywhere. Fuck. She’s hemorrhaging.
A nurse runs in and I point to the door. “Get me an OR. Now.”
A few other nurses and Martina come rushing in. Allison’s eyes are wide and tears start to form.
“Allison, you’re hemorrhaging. It could be just a cyst that the scan missed. I need to go in and get the bleeding to stop, okay?”
“It was just a little,” she says and her voice cracks.
“You were bleeding before?” I ask.
“Please,” she grabs my hand. “Please don’t tell him. It’s been days and I didn’t want to worry him.”
“Who?”
“My husband. I didn’t . . . I couldn’t tell him . . . please,” she begs, and her head falls back.
Right now, none of that is my concern. I need to get her into surgery. My team moves around her, getting everything unhooked so we can move her.
“Let’s not worry about that, okay?”
She lifts her hand and then it falls limp. I bark orders at everyone. If her levels weren’t so off, it wouldn’t be a huge deal, but she can’t lose a lot of blood when she’s already low.
We start to wheel Allison out and Bryce rushes in the room. “Allison!”
“It’s okay,” she tries to perk up, but she has no energy.
“What’s going on?” The fear is etched into each syllable.
“Your wife has a bleed, and I need to go in and stop it. We’re going to prep her for surgery right away,” I explain.
He shakes his head as if he can dispel the information I just gave him. “She was fine five minutes ago.”