Page 20 of Challenge
“You can call me Belle,” she adds, her voice wobbly.
“This is Booker. I’m Tanner,” he says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping an octave. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Ryan. You’re much too pretty to be just a table decoration.”
He shoots her a wink and Belle giggles nervously. Her eyes look a bit too wide to be natural, but I don’t know how to make her stop.
“Tell me, Doc,” Booker says, addressing me with a thoughtful look. “What kind of meds have you prescribed our brother today? He’s a moody sod and he’s just kicked us all out of his room.”
I cloud up. “What do you mean? Is he feeling all right?”
Booker shrugs. “Seemed okay. We were talking football like we always do and he flipped out on us out of nowhere. Told us to go bug someone else. Don’t get me wrong. He is always an arse, but this arse was of a particularly bitchy variety.”
“Our dad sent us to look for you,” Tanner adds. “He thinks maybe Cam is in more pain than he’s letting on.”
The notion bothers me so I can’t help myself from asking, “Maybe he’s just ready for some space? It’s almost eight o’clock at night. I’m sure he’s exhausted. Pain meds make you drowsy, so to fight sleep this long isn’t a pleasant feeling.”
“Harrises don’t really do space,” Tanner replies, sitting back in his chair and stretching his legs out. “Something is up with him.”
I nod, taking note of their concerned expressions. “I’ll go check on him,” I say as I stand up from the table with my tray. My shift is over, but I’m invested in this surgery that’s happening tomorrow so this is my issue.
“You’re leaving?” Belle hisses while not-so-subtly head nodding to the brothers still seated at the table with her.
“Yeah. A-list patient and all that.” I give her a “you’ll be fine” lift of the brow and scamper off, ignoring the cracks Camden’s brothers make about VIP standing for Very Important Prick.
When I get to the private wing, I see Mr. Harris pacing outside Camden’s room with his mobile clamped tightly against his ear. He’s speaking in hushed tones, but when he sees me approaching, he cuts off whomever is talking and abruptly hangs up.
“Dr. Porter, hi,” he says, eyeing me seriously.
I smile politely as I gaze into the blue eyes of an older, more weathered version of Camden. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and still extremely fit for a middle-aged man. I never knew I could be attracted to the silver fox variety. Prichard has never pinged much on my radar, even though I know he’s attractive and the nurses all constantly swoon over him. But I would certainly make an exception for Vaughn Harris.
“Doc, I think my son might be in some pain. He’s been quite testy all day, which isn’t like him. He’s usually…well, all of my boys are always very light-hearted. They don’t let much trouble them, so I’m thinking he might need something to take the edge off. Can you help him with that?”
I nod sympathetically. “Of course, I was just going in to check on him.”
“Cheers, cheers. That other doctor was here a minute ago, but Cam doesn’t seem to like him much. I don’t care for him either, to be frank, but I’ve done my research and I know he’s skilled.”
“Yes, very much so. Cam—I mean, Mr. Harris is in good hands with him. You’re very lucky.”
“Exactly. Cam’s fine. It’s probably nothing.” He purses his lips and squints, causing the crow’s feet around his eyes to stack on top of one another. “But if you can deal with him as much as possible, I think that’d be wise. He seems to like you.”
“Absolutely. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Excellent. We’re all heading home. He doesn’t want us here anymore. I erm…won’t be here for the surgery tomorrow, but here’s my number. Can you text me when he’s out?”
“You won’t be here?” I ask quizzically. Every time I’ve come down this wing, I’ve seen Camden’s dad outside his door on his mobile. I assumed he’d be here for the actual procedure.
“No. I’ve got an early meeting.” He looks around uncomfortably, almost as if he’s just now realising he’s standing in a hospital. He moves to walk away but turns around and places a surprising hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Dr. Porter. This procedure will save my son’s life.”
I grimace at his choice of words and, before I can stop myself, I reply, “Mr. Harris. This isn’t a life-threatening injury. Some people never get their ACL tears repaired. Not athletes, I know, but I just want to make sure that you understand he’s going to be okay, with or without the surgery.” I say it with a smile and in a polite tone, but I feel anything but courteous. In fact, I’m feeling a bit of annoyance toward all the Harrises. I want Cam to have the surgery more than anyone. It’d be huge for my career, but it feels as if everyone is more concerned about football than they are about Camden.
Vaughn smiles in a patronising way. “Doc, you’ve dedicated a lot of hard work and years of education to get where you are, haven’t you?”
“Yes, of course.”
He leans his head down to meet my eyes. “My Camden has done the same thing. Football to us…is our life. It’s more than that really. In ways I can’t even begin to describe. So please, just get us through this. That’s all I’m asking.”
He looks as if he’s saying so much more with his eyes than he can say with words, but it’s not something I’m privy to understanding. Regardless, this isn’t really an argument to be having with a patient’s father. “I’ll do my very best, Mr. Harris. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” I smile genuinely.
He smiles back. “No need to be sorry. I’m just glad he has a doctor who cares.”
