Page 1 of Dr. Attending

Chapter 1

Weston

The corner of Parker’s mouth twitches as I finish my story in the cramped emergency room bay.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think that my ex-best friend’s expression was full of pride . . . but that wouldn’t make sense. He hates me—or at least, that’s what he’s led me to believe for the past year and a half.

The soft sound of a door sliding open catches my attention, and I shift my focus from my son to the person who just appeared in the corner of the room—Cassidy Callaway.

She freezes, her hazel eyes widening as they land on the ten-month-old boy sitting between me and her husband. She swallows hard before looking to Parker for an explanation.

He gives her a reassuring smile. “His name is Carter.”

Cassidy reaches up to tuck a stray blonde hair behind her ear, blinking several times like she’s face-to-face with a ghost. “Carter?”

My son’s name is a thick whisper on her trembling lips, and it makes me wonder how often she’s able to say it these days—if her grief has eased at all in the three years since her brother’s death.

Because mine definitely hasn’t.

Cassidy draws her lips between her teeth and swallows, looking at me with pleading, glassy eyes. “Why—”

The rest of the thought gets lodged in her throat, held hostage by emotion.

I nod to Parker, letting him know that I’ve got it from here. But before he can make a move, Cassidy waves him off and starts toward us.

Her steps are more assured than her expression as she crosses the small room and joins us at the stretcher.

“Hey, buddy,” she coos, bending down to my son’s eye level andhesitantly reaching out.

I expect him to shy away because the past few hours have been taxing, but he simply studies her curiously instead.

His chubby fist then confidently curls around her finger like he’s known her for his entire life, yet his white-blond brows knit the way they do when he’s about to burst into tears.

Instinctively, I start to rub his back to soothe his oncoming tantrum. But instead of erupting into a wail, Carter inhales sharply. His eyes pinch closed, and he expels a forceful burst of air from his mouth, spraying saliva and daycare crud all over Cassidy’s face.

She blinks a few times to bat the spittle away from her lashes as a massive glob of mucus slides down her cheek.

I think all of us, including my son, are so surprised by the force of his sneeze that nobody moves . . . until a retching sound breaks the silence in the room.

I glance toward the noise.

Morgan, a nurse on the floor and Cassidy’s best friend, is hovering over the sink in the corner, alternating between curse words and gagging sounds as she grabs a handful of paper towels. She dangles the wad from her fingertips, holding them at arm’s length like she might catch the plague from touching a little bit of snot.

“Here. Just—”

I chuckle and offer Cassidy an apologetic shrug as she takes the paper towels from Morgan. “Sorry about that.”

Cassidy waves me off and begins to wipe herself clean, not bothered in the slightest by the baby goop. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what kids do.”

Leaning down toward my son, she coos, “That was silly.”

Carter giggles and reaches out for her as she playfully squeezes his white sneakers. He sneezes again, this time less forcefully so that only a small trickle of snot drips from his nose.

“Fuck.” Morgan dry heaves again, face draining of color as her pale-green eyes find mine apologetically. “Sorry, but I’m out. Mucus is the one bodily fluid I don’t do.”

The old me would’ve made a crude joke about her sex life, but these days I’m too exhausted to think of anything witty, let alone sexual, so I nod appreciatively instead.

Morgan and her husband Walker have shown me nothing but kindness since I came back to Atlanta. I have no idea what I did to deserve their friendship, but I’m incredibly thankful for it.

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