Page 294 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Don’t judge me. My mother may call me a heartbreaker, but I hate breaking fucking hearts. My real game is staying far enough away that I don’t have to.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket before I could give it any more thought and slammed my locker closed. No doubt I was a good five minutes late for my shift now. But that was one perk of being the boss. I’d just tell Deb I was busy doing important shit, and she’d have no choice but to believe me.

Knowing they were working shorthanded without me, I shoved open the door and broke into a jog on my way to the floor.

Will Cummings was running the other direction with a sweating, panting pregnant woman on a gurney next to him.

He smiled and nodded in my direction. “I see you got a live one,” I called after him, but he was too busy listening to the woman as she screamed in his ear. He really was one of the best doctors I’d ever seen, his bedside manner completely unparalleled. Not actually obscene in any way.

I, on the other hand, actually deserved my nickname. Hell, I probably deserved his. But the old saying was right: Nice guys finish last.

“Dr. Shepard!” Deb yelled just as I rounded the corner.

She had barely contained panic—the kind that only came with years of training—in her eyes.

“What’s up, Deb?”

“You’re just going to have to see it,” she told me and turned in the other direction to break into a jog.

I followed her obediently, grabbing a pair of gloves from an empty bay on the way there. If this was anything like she was making it sound, time and protection were going to be of the essence.

She pulled the curtain back as the woman behind it cried out in hysterical agony, and it didn’t take me long to figure out why.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I muttered just before jumping straight into action.

Visibly pregnant with a—

“Is that a curtain rod?” I asked, fucking horrified as I got a closer look at the pole sticking straight up and out of her protruding belly.

“Yes,” Deb said, efficiently briefing me. “She’s thirty-six weeks pregnant and was walking on 53rd when that struck her from above. Probably someone working in an apartment with the window open. The police are looking into it, but overall, it just seems like horrible timing.”

“My baby!” the woman screamed, panting to catch her breath through the panic. “Somebody please tell me my baby is okay.”

“What’s your name?” I asked as calmly as possible, stepping forward to take her trembling hand in mine.

“Luc-y,” she answered, a little sob hitching at the very end of the word.

I turned quickly to Deb. “Page Dr. Cummings. I just saw him headed to the OR with another patient, but I want him on this.”

“You got it,” she responded quickly while Sherry worked to get an IV going in Lucy.

I turned back to her and looked her in the eye. “Hi, Lucy. I’m Dr. Shepard—”

“Like on Grey’s Anatomy?” she asked, horrified and curious at once. It was amazing what adrenaline could make you focus on.

“Sort of. But I promise there’s less death around here.”

She tried to smile, but the effort was completely in vain. I didn’t blame her. Given the seriousness of her situation and the lingering Harlow-Pam clusterfuck, I didn’t feel much like joking either.

“What’s your baby’s name? Have you picked out a name yet?”

She nodded, her face cracking as she started to fall apart.

My heart jumped into my throat for what she must be feeling, not what I was. Thanks to years of training and medical experience, I felt calm. “No, no, Lucy. You stay focused on me, okay? What’s the baby’s name?”

“Jacob.”

“Jacob. That’s a fucking great name. Strong. Sure,” I coached her. She nodded. “I might have chosen Scott, myself. But Jacob is really, really good.” Sherry managed to work and roll her eyes at once. I was a great leader, giving my staff the skills to multitask like that.