“Looks like a fairly light surgery schedule today,” Conor McCarthy said to the two other orthopedic surgeons in the men’s locker room as they changed into scrubs.
“Yeah. Glad the snow and ice season is coming. It’s good for business,” Bill Radcliff joked.
Conor couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing Bill was kidding. “Don’t let your patients hear that, or it’ll be all over social media how you like to see people slip and fall so you can fix them up.”
“It’s an unfortunate reality that our jobs entail being there for people after they hurt themselves, and my patients love me for it.” Bill grinned. “Always confounded, though, by the folks who decide to take up running in the winter, instead of getting into the groove while the weather’s nice. Wouldn’t you love to know what percentage end up falling and breaking something?”
“Yeah...”
The mention of runners made Conor think of Jillian, which sent all amusement from his chest, leaving it feeling hollow. A vision of her slender body in running tights or shorts that showed her shapely legs immediately came into his mind, along with her beautiful smile and the cute messy bun she always wore her hair in when she ran.
He’d loved seeing that bun bounce as she ran out the door almost every day, probably trying to make up for not being able to run for so many years. She’d told him that after the leg-length discrepancy she’d been born with had been surgically repaired in her teens, running had been the first thing she’d wanted to do. He’d always admired the hell out of her for her determination to overcome what some would have thought a handicap.
The ache in his chest almost physically hurt, and he dropped his hand when he realized he’d been unconsciously rubbing it over his sternum, as though he could somehow soothe his stupid broken heart. He’d have expected that after nearly a year apart he wouldn’t be reminded of her by the least thing, but obviously he was nowhere near getting over Jillian Keyser.
“You close to finalizing that deal with Urgent Care Manhattan to partner with us? That would be huge, if they could move in next door now that the space is vacant,” Bill said. “We’re all counting on you making it happen.”
“I have a meeting with them today, as a matter of fact. Hoping to close on it soon—before our competition woos them with an offer they think they can’t refuse.”
“I know you have a lot on your plate, but you’re still planning to be chairman once the companies merge, right? With you there, making sure they’re both managed the way they should be, I’ve got my check already written as an investor.”
“Believe me, I’m going to make it happen and I’ll have them running as smooth as a Wall Street banker. So get your checkbook ready.”
Conor took a last swig of coffee and headed toward the OR to find his surgery schedule. Studying the paper in his hand, he walked past several patients being prepped for surgery in cubicles only partly curtained off—and then the sound of a woman speaking caught his ears and he stopped dead.
He turned to see the owner of the melodic voice and felt his heart drop into his stomach. Her body was wrapped in a hospital gown, her usual sweet smile was on her face, and her hair tumbled across her cheek as she exchanged comments with the prep nurse and an anesthesiologist.
“Jillian? What the...?”
She looked up and his eyes met the gorgeous ones he’d missed so much. A mesmerizing mix of green and gray and gold—like clouds on the horizon with the sunlight shimmering through.
Damn it. The connection between them was still there. In spite of everything he could feel the electric zing of it, and his breath caught in his lungs.
Then she blinked, and her gaze shifted to the hallway behind him. Her smile flatlined and her lips twisted into a grimace before she looked at him again, cool now, all that feeling of connection gone.
“Oh. Hi, Conor. I... I broke my wrist. Distal radius fracture. Beth is putting in a plate and screws this morning to put it back together.”
“How? What happened?”
“I took the dogs for a walk. A couple of big dogs weren’t very friendly, Yorkie freaked out, and we got all tangled up—next thing you know, I’m flat on the sidewalk.”
“Ah, hell. Is it your right hand?” He stepped closer to reach for it carefully, and the feel of her soft hand in his felt so good his heart got all twisted up—which bothered him no end.
What was wrong with him? No matter how hard he’d fallen for her, he should never have married Jillian in the first place. He’d learned the hard way that he wasn’t husband material any more than his father had been, obviously having inherited his bad DNA. He’d had a selfish, cold father and a mother who’d twisted herself into knots trying to somehow make his father happy—until the day he’d left. Which had made a bad home situation dramatically worse.
Their eyes met again, and he knew the pain and sadness he saw there had nothing to do with her wrist and everything to do with him. God knew he’d wanted his own marriage to be different. But she’d been right to leave. The last thing a special woman like Jillian needed was to be tied to a man who made her miserable.
Except he couldn’t lie to himself. In the ten months since she’d been gone he’d thought of her every day and every night, missing her even as he’d forcibly reminded himself how much he’d hurt her. Disappointed her.
“Yeah. No fun, but I’ll get through it.”
“Titanium time!” Dr. Beth Crenshaw appeared in the curtained doorway with a grin that faltered a little when she saw Conor standing there. “Hey, Conor. Surprise, surprise, huh?”
“Definitely a surprise.” It took some effort to release Jill’s hand before he folded his arms across his chest. “Why is it no one has told me this happened? That Jill is having surgery here today?”
“Because I asked her not to tell you,” Jill said in a stiff voice. “No reason for you to know.”
The truth of that stabbed his chest all over again. “Maybe not, but I would have liked to know anyway. Who’s taking you home post-op?”
As soon as he asked the question his heart jolted. If she had a new guy Conor hoped and prayed he wouldn’t have to see him with her in Recovery.
“I asked Ellie next door. She’s the only person I know who has a car.”
“Wait. Isn’t she the one who’s about eighty and has a bum knee?”
Her lips twisted again, this time in a wry smile. “I know it’s not ideal, taking advantage of her good nature when she has a tough time getting around. But they won’t let me take a taxi by myself, as you well know.”
“You should have told me you were having trouble finding someone,” Beth said. “I can take you home. You’ll just have to hang around in Recovery until the end of the day. You’ll still be partially out of it for a bit, anyway. I assume you have a friend to take care of you tonight? You know you shouldn’t be alone.”
“I think
