Jessa sat in her patrol car, stared at her steering wheel, and turned on the local radio for a moment of peace to collect herself. She missed the end of her favourite song, and a commercial began with a public announcement regarding school closures after March Break. Her thoughts overpowered the rest of the information. With fears that come with her job as a police officer, Jessa didn’t have children, but it didn’t take rocket science to figure out the struggle parents and caregivers would face, not to mention the loss of many jobs. She figured this was not the first announcement made, which would explain the line of vehicles that began to fill the parking lot as she left. Jessa planned to visit her father in the hospital then return to the store to check on the clerk’s well-being. She hoped time allowed Chrissy to cope and her panic and anxiety to settle after such a strange encounter. Of course, based on the cars moving into the center’s lot, her day was about to become very busy. The crap retail workers dealt with and yet continued to be underappreciated. Spending time with her father would be the highlight of Jessa’s day, and seeing hottie Dr. Jack Masan would be the cherry on top.
Chapter 1
The doctor assured me that my father would be okay, but Dad’s face was more flushed than usual, so the doctor couldn’t convince me my father wasn’t in any pain. Whenever my father tried his hardest to hide his pain, that was when I knew when it showed the most because he placed his hand over his stomach. It was a secret my mother had taught me. My father tried to stay strong and never take time off work, but my mother knew when he was hiding something.
The words shot out of me like a bullet, “Don’t fuck with me.”
The doctor, hot in every aspect with a freshly shaved face, appeared younger than his credentials, letting out a quick bark of laughter. He seemed shocked with my language. Although I wasn’t sure why since he had to have worked with angry families before.
“My father is in pain, or he wouldn’t be holding his stomach.” I tried to retract my outburst and spoke in a calmer voice, my words a warning rather than a threat.
The doctor’s blue eyes pierced through me as he stared for a moment, and I almost lost myself in them. He peered at my father’s chart again, flipped two pages, tapped his pen on the board of paper, reading something. Done, he turned to a nurse, who had followed closely behind him into the room and stood next to him. “I don’t see any recent labs in Mr. Wellington’s chart.”
The nurse looked to another nurse who stood behind her as if to form a line. They stared blankly.
“Mrs.—”
“Miss, divorced,” I corrected him.
My finger played with an imaginary ring that I had once worn. I didn’t have time to mourn the separation for a month before Dad had his accident.
“Alzheimer’s,” I added. “My father has Alzheimer’s, but still holds his hand over his stomach when he is in pain like he used to. It’s how my mother could always tell.”
The doctor nodded without glancing up from my father’s chart.
I stood from my chair, walked over to the window, and looked out over the evening rush as I brushed my hand through my ponytail. Long night at a hospital wasn’t where I expected to be, in a cold, stale room, possibly losing my father at my fingertips. My best friend. I then noticed the time on my fit watch, seven o’clock. I assumed sunset, but nobody kept track. The emptiness in the hallowed room felt like we’d been there for so long. The sky shone bright warm colours just the same, whether the sun was setting or rising.
I hadn’t changed out of my uniform when given instructions from my captain to cut my day short and visit my father. All that mattered was having my dad for another day. It felt selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.
Barely noticing the doctors and nurses entering and leaving the room, I felt a tap on my shoulder. “It’s time to take your father for an MRI. The nurse will wheel him down,” the doctor assured me and reached out with an enormous coffee cup covered with a lid. “I’m sure you could use this.” He smiled. “I pulled some strings and had your father scheduled for an MRI scan immediately.”
“Thank you, Dr. Masan.” Feeling a boost of guilt, I smiled. “I—”
“It’s French vanilla. I heard you and your father talking earlier and figured caffeine and something sweet is something you needed right now.”
I assumed Dr. Jack Masan could tell from the baggage under my eyes that I desperately needed an energy boost. The type of boost I wanted required a longing touch, but he at least understood sweet caffeine. If his lips tasted as sweet as they looked, he’d be exactly what I’d order.
A nurse spun a wheelchair around the corner from the hall into the room. Dr. Masan grinned as I looked wide-eyed between him and my father. I remembered the time I broke my leg when I was about twelve years old and my dad wheelied me from the waiting room to get my X-ray then back again. He would do this anytime he had the chance to push someone in a wheelchair to make their time more fun. Dad deserved some fun too, so if a wheelie to his MRI would be the rainbow to his storm, then he deserved to relax before laying in a machine that was a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare.
“Ready, Mr. Clary?” The nurse slowed to my father’s bedside and helped him into his chair, careful not to tangle his IV.
The nurse’s voice sounded familiar. I took another gulp of French vanilla, and then it hit me. I hadn’t noticed with loose scrubs hiding his muscles, but the nurse who took my father for his MRI test was the male witness inside the store. My partner later confirmed that the stranger was a meth user on a high binge but was no hard threat.
Chrissy and the nurse would have made a cute couple. No rings on either of their hands. I suppose the entire situation was life’s crazy way of bringing them together. That idea didn’t feel the same for hottie Dr. Masan and me.
My father’s wink as he left the room showed he believed otherwise.
“Your father is in expert hands.” Dr. Masan chuckled, as the nurse wheelied my father out of the room. He stared as I shook my empty cup without a response. “I knew you needed the caffeine. How about another one?”
I smiled to hide my disappointment in the lack of caffeine left in my cup. “Now, there’s an idea. Too bad mugs can’t refill themselves.”
He laughed at my sad attempt at a joke. I just didn't have the excitement in me to join in. My father’s empty bed looked comfortable, though. I didn’t think anyone would mind if I took a twenty-minute nap. Oh, what it would be to feel young, pull an all-nighter, and keep going the next day again. I always said once you hit twenty-five, it’s all downhill from there.
“Jessa, would you like to have coffee with me?” He checked his shiny gold watch. “I’m on my lunch break and could use another cup myself.”
In my thirties, I felt my best, more accomplished, and my career kept me busy enough to appreciate the lack of a dating life. Dating in my field never lasted since my divorce.
“Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Masan?” I giggled. Another sad attempt of a joke to ease the moment. “My apologies. I blame the bluntness on my lack of sleep and my job requiring me to be upfront.”
Dr. Masan assured me, “You don’t beat around the bush, and I like that.” There was an ease between us that came from him. “Blame my bluntness on my job as a doctor to be upfront, too, but yes, I would love it if this were a date.”