Chapter Two
AMBER
I got out of my car in front of the hospital and as I was gathering up my things a big gust of wind came up and blew my papers right out of my hands. “Shit!” I started running around like a maniac in the parking lot trying to grab them all before they blew away or someone came along and ran them over. I should have taken the time to put them all away in my bag before I left the clinic, but I’d been running late since I opened my eyes and saw that I’d over-slept by an hour this morning.
“Here you go.” I looked up at the sound of the deep voice. A blonde-haired man with really deep blue eyes was standing over me as I bent down and tried to fish one of the papers out from underneath a car. He was holding out a handful of the papers I’d lost.
“Thanks, that wind caught me off guard,” I said as I pushed to my feet and took them.
He smiled. His face was tan, and he was built like a long, lean surfer. There wasn’t much call for those in Dallas, but he was really cute – if you liked that type. “No problem. Here, I’ll get the one under the car for you.” He dropped down like he was going to do a push-up and held himself up with one arm as he reached under the white SUV. A second later, he was back on his feet and handing me the lost paper.
“Thank you, I’m such a mess.” The big, blond guy ran those blue eyes down my body. Although I was dressed for work in my black scrubs and white lab coat, he was looking at me as if I was dressed to go out to the club.
“You don’t look like a mess to me,” he said. Smooth operator…I hate players. He held out his hand and said, “Greg Falcone.”
Reluctantly, I shook it. “Amber Reed…and I’m late. Thank you again for your help.” I started stuffing the papers in my bag. I’d have to organize them once I got inside and out of the breeze…and away from Casanova. He watched me until I’d stuffed every one into the bag and locked my car.
Then he said, “I’m on my way in to see my friend. I’ll walk with you.”
Great. I wonder if he’d still be so interested if I told him that my boyfriend is a bull-rider who collects guns in his spare time, drinks like a fish, and loves nothing better than a good fight. I thought about Dylan. He’d come home at three a.m. this morning and as usual, he was to blame for my bad start to the day. He’d wanted sex, and I tried to say no. I could smell the whiskey as soon as he’d walked into the room. I pretended to be asleep, but he knew I was faking it and within seconds of him stripping down and climbing into bed with me, his drunken hands were everywhere. I eventually gave in just so he’d leave me alone. The drunken bastard barely managed a few thrusts before he had his orgasm and passed out. It took me another hour to fall back asleep as my mind once again went through all of the reasons I should leave him.
My new “friend” Greg and I walked through the hospital lobby together. When we got to the elevators he said, “Are you going up?” the truth was that I needed to, but I also needed to get away from this guy.
“Not for a while. You have a nice day and thank you again.” I saw it on his face – he was about to really hit on me, ask for my number or something. I looked away and said, “Oh, there’s my co-worker, I have to run.” I left him standing there and walked as quickly as I could towards a group of nurses I didn’t even know. Once I was around the corner, I slipped into one of the family quiet rooms and tried to organize my mess. I was here today to assess two patients that were being discharged and the mess in front of me was medical records that the hospital had faxed to the clinic.
Once I had things at least looking neat, I took my bag and went back to the elevators where I’d left Greg. I got on and pushed the number five. My first patient was an elderly lady on the skilled nursing unit. I stepped off the elevator in front of the nurse’s station and Addy, a girl I’d known since high school, was there.
“Amber!”
I smiled at her. She and I were never friends in high school. She was kind of a stand-offish bitch back then, to be honest. She’s a nurse now, and obviously more mature and professional, but she still made me slightly uncomfortable. “Hi, Addy, how’s it going?”
She curled her lip. “It was a full moon last night – they’re still residually crazy.” I laughed. People who don’t work in health care or law enforcement have no idea how true it is that the full moon makes people lose their minds.
“Sorry,” I told her. “I’m here to see Edith Sweetwater.”
Addy rolled her eyes. “She’s one of the craziest.” From what I’d read of her chart, Edith is a sixty-two year old with early Alzheimer’s that had recently had a stroke. The doctor thought she would need speech and physical therapy, and that’s what I was here to assess her for. Addy showed me to her room and then slipped out quickly. It didn’t take me long to find out why.
“Lizzy, unhook this bra for me.” Edith was wearing a hospital gown and I doubted there was a bra underneath it. She was reaching behind her like she was trying to get ahold of it. Her arms were short and kind of chunky, as was the rest of her. “Come on, Lizzy, I need to get this thing off.” I had no idea who Lizzy was, but since I was the only other one in the room, I assumed she meant me.
“Edith, can we just talk for a few minutes? My name is Amber Reed-”
“God damn it, Lizzie! Unhook this bra!” I sighed and went closer to the bed. I reached behind her and pretended to unhook something, letting my fingers brush against her bare back. I looked at her face and she looked relieved. “That’s so much better. Thank you, honey.”
“You’re welcome, Edith. Can we talk now?”
“Sure, Lizzy, but hand me the cat first.” That was about how our entire conversation went. Her speech seemed pretty clear to me, but it was hard to tell where the Alzheimer’s ended and the problems the stroke caused had begun. The physical assessment was easier, but it still took a lot longer than I’d anticipated. By the time I was back on the elevator to go up and see my next patient on the sixth floor, I was over an hour late.
I read some of his file as I stepped off the elevator. His name was Kyle Cloud and he was twenty-seven. Six days post-surgery for removal of a benign tumor located in his pre-frontal cortex, the doctor was referring him for speech, occupational, and physical therapy.
“When is she going to get here? My brother is getting impatient!” I walked past the nurse’s station barely registering the raised voice until I heard the nurse’s response.
“There she is! Amber.” I stopped and turned around. A woman with long, dark hair and big, angry-looking, dark eyes was looking me over. I forced a smile. “Amber, this is Sarah Penner. She’s Kyle Cloud’s sister. You’re here to see him, right?”
I nodded at the nurse, Sue, and looked back at the other woman. “Yes, hello, Miss Penner. I’m sorry I’m so late, it’s been one of those days.” The woman’s eyes softened a little bit.
“It’s okay. My brother is just getting impatient. It’s hard to understand him and he gets really frustrated and angry.” She and I started walking towards her brother’s room.
“That’s normal – and understandable,” I told her. “I can’t imagine being able to think clearly, but not being able to convey what I’m thinking. That would have to be so hard.”
She seemed to soften a bit more as she said, “Yes, and he’s always been a really independent guy. It’s hard for him to have to ask for help with everything.”
She led me up to room 612 and as soon as we walked through the door, my eyes landed on a blond head in the corner. It was Greg…just great. There was another man there, too, sitting at the bedside. He stood up when we walked in. This guy was huge and looked like an Indian from one of those old cowboy movies. My eyes went to the man in the bed. He was looking at me with these incredibly soulful, dark eyes. His head was still bandaged and he had multiple IVs running in both of his arms. When I smiled at him, I think he tried to smile back – but his lips barely moved.
“You must be Kyle. I’m Amber Reed from Dallas/Ft. Worth Therapy Associates. Dr. Grant wanted me to evaluate you for some therapy when you get out of here.”
“Yest…oday.” He groaned after the words came out of his mouth.
I smiled and said, “That’s right, he wants to discharge you today.” There was that crooked little smile again. He was happy that I understood what he meant. That was good; we were starting out on a good foot. I looked at his sister and said, “I’m going to ask the three of you to step out for just a few minutes while I evaluate Kyle…”
“He won’t be able to answer your questions. You’ll need me here-”
“Sarah.” The big man spoke in a voice as big and deep as he was.
Greg got to his feet and although Sarah looked frustrated she said, “Okay… We’ll be right out in the waiting room if you need us.”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll come and get you if I do.” She went with the other two men, reluctantly. I hoped that no one noticed the way Greg’s blue eyes roamed my body again before he left the room. When they were gone, I looked back at Kyle and said, “This sucks, huh?”
That time he managed a much brighter smile and then he said, “Fucked-up.” It was funny how the powers of profanity seem to hold on the hardest.
“So, Kyle, let me tell you about our clinic…” I told him how long Dr. Jasper had been in business, where we were located, and about our staff. Then, I went on to tell him about the different types of therapy and asked him if I could give him a little verbal quiz that I use to assess my patients. He nodded, and I began asking him questions.
I could tell that he knew the answers – his address, his telephone number, what he does for a living – but most of what he said didn’t make a lot of sense. He seemed to get more frustrated as we went on, so I changed tactics and started with my physical assessment. I had him hold his arms and hands in different positions and squeeze my fingers. His left hand seemed to be a little weaker than his right, but mostly the coordination was off. I moved to his legs next. I abruptly felt like a pervert when I saw most of his body. He had a runner’s body, with long muscular legs and tight muscles in his biceps. I shook that off and finished my assessment. His left leg seemed to be impaired, whereas his right leg moved about normally. That was classic in relation to the surgery he’d had recently.
“Okay, Kyle, so here’s the deal. I’m going to set you up with therapy at our clinic three days a week to begin with. You’ll have speech and physical therapy, for sure. You seem to be swallowing okay, but we’ll keep an eye on that. I know this is all scary and frustrating, but you’re young and otherwise healthy, and if you give it a 100%, you should be back to business as usual very soon.”
He smiled and instead of trying to speak, he gave me a little nod. He never took his eyes off of my face, and it was both unnerving and kind of sexy.
What the hell is wrong with me? The poor guy just had brain surgery and I’m over here thinking about how sexy he is. I’m officially losing my mind.