It also doesn’t bode well for him that hiring a female trauma surgeon would make the board of directors look good, politically. And I’m all for excellent women earning their way to higher positions. I was raised by a powerful woman to be a powerful woman. I could count myself as a Feminist if I didn’t loathe the need for there to be such a cause in the first place.
Also, I love men.
It’s a fine line.
Holding ourselves up.
While not squashing them.
Working together—that’s the answer.
It’s where true balance and happiness lies. Because both sexes have something to offer that is unique and helps the other. Mutual respect and teamwork is what I aim for as the end goal in all things.
And Caden…dammit…I truly don’t want to admit to myself that he’s accidentally become another reason I enjoy going to work. This curiosity I have to see what line he’ll cross next, does me absolutely no good.
His future is in my hands.
At some point, not far from now, I will have to make a decision and I cannot let my recent and irritating partiality to Dr. Cocker sway my judgment in who stays at Atlanta Hope.
I was moved by what he did yesterday. I did some digging and discovered he’d brought chocolates to every cancer patient this week. A male nurse on that floor said that one patient had been released, so Caden left that box for the next one admitted—and Ray ate it.
That kind of selfishness is what I normally expect from people.
Sad as that is.
But the selflessness Caden displayed…no, that’s not the right word…the compassion, thoughtfulness, and generosity of spirit—not to mention time visiting with and brightening the days of those not under his watch—flabbergasted me.
I went there to toss him on his ass like the dozens of other times he’s pushed the clock-limits. Instead I had to leave in a hurry, because if I’d have stood there a moment longer I would’ve hugged him!
I found out how he’d gotten away with nobody telling on him—except Janet who tipped me off that he’d not left as he was supposed to have. Cocker claimed I’d given him permission. Everyone accepted that as true, which makes me feel lame for not being given the chance. Of course I would’ve given him permission! What makes him think I wouldn’t?
Does he think I’m heartless?
Not only would I have said yes, I would’ve contributed to help him buy the chocolates! I would’ve told him my favorite flavor, pistachio, given him the names of the best stores to get it at so he could offer options, maybe even driven there myself because it would have felt so good to do something that uniquely kind.
Aloud, I huff, “I am not heartless!”
“Um…Dr. Myers?” Janet Gilroy is miraculously holding my coffee. “You must really need this. You didn’t hear them calling your name a couple of times. And…who called you heartless?”
CHAPTER 4
ELIZABETH
I frown, “Really? A couple times?” and discreetly dodge the question by lifting my chin and carrying my cup to the condiments counter where I pretend to be engrossed in choosing the right lid, shaking cinnamon inside, and tugging the cap into place.
Janet followed me and the silence is palpable.
Sipping our wake-me-ups, she and I exit the shop into the golden light of early morning as it occurs to me I won’t be seeing Caden until tomorrow at the earliest. This softens the space between my shoulders.
I won’t have to battle that persistently defiant guy until then, thank God. Or hide how many times I want to stare at him.
Relieved I exhale, “What a beautiful day.”
Janet heads for her car, blowing into the cup. “Same weather as yesterday and the day before.”
Not going to reply to that either.
Sliding into my Audi, I set the steaming mocha latte securely in its rubber holder, and hit my favorite playlist. Classical music explodes from top-of-the-line speakers as though I were playing AC/DC with way too much coke up my nose.
Chuckling to myself at the idea I’d ever snort anything other than sarcasm, I screech out of the parking lot with a grin spread up from my soul despite the traffic, which always sucks balls.
Beethoven is best enjoyed at full blast.
I know how to navigate this baby like there’s nobody on the road, so fuck ‘em. If I could hear the cars honking at me, I might feel bad. But not today. Ode To Joy silences all but Ludwig’s absolute genius.
A couple blocks from the hospital I’m feeling like a billion dollars when on the other side of the double yellow line, driving in the same direction I am, a car pulls alongside of me. I glance over because there is not supposed to be a vehicle going that direction on my left, and see the flashing blue lights above Atlanta P.D.’s trademark red stripe and navy blue paint job. “Oh shit.”
A very handsome police officer swirls his finger in a circle motioning for me to notice the siren and pull over two minutes ago.
It takes some maneuvering but I manage to make it to the shoulder, all the while cussing under my breath.
I wait for him to saunter to my window. Rolling it down, I look up at a uniform who can’t be more than 23—is that even possible?—sporting a stern I’m-going-to-spank-you look. This guy is hot.
“Something wrong, officer?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“Sarcasm noted.”
He plants hands on my window frame, leans down with his ass sticking out. This wins him several honks.
It is very hard not to smile as he ignores his admirers to demand, “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
“Under the speed limit?”
“Nice try.” He motions to my dashboard with just his left index finger, hands still gripping my open window. “License and registration.”
With a loud sigh I dig inside my wallet,
