Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3)(10)

Dr. Kane blinks at me as though he’s trying to decipher a foreign language. His expression suddenly clears, and he muffles a startled cough into his fist. “Um, antibiotic pearls. In your leg.”

“That’s a relief. We’re seriously going to have to revisit your credentials otherwise. Probably with a lawyer.”

The hot doctor’s cheeks blush in the most adorable shade of crimson. He runs a hand through his perfect hair and though it mostly falls right back into place, I feel an unexpected sense of satisfaction at seeing a few wayward strands that refuse to comply. “How’s the pain?”

“Fine,” I lie.

“Have you been taking pain medication?”

“Not really. I’m okay.”

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Sure.”

“Eating?”

I follow the doctor’s gaze to where it’s stuck on the half-eaten turkey sandwich that sits on the nightstand next to my bed. “Um …” My stomach audibly growls, filling the silence between us. “I’m not sure that really classifies as food.”




Dr. Kane frowns at me. “You need to keep up your strength. Proper nutrition will help your body repair itself and fight off infection.”

“Well,” I say as I push myself up higher on my bed, “you can let me out of here and I promise the first thing I’ll do is seek out real food.”

His frown deepens and he sets the tablet down on a side table. “How about we see how things are healing,” he says, and grabs a pair of latex gloves before approaching the side of the bed. He tells me everything he’s going to do before he does it. I’m going to take the splint off. I’m going to remove the dressing and have a look at the incision. His words are clinical and unfussy, but his hands are warm and gentle on my swollen leg. There’s a kindness in his touch that runs deeper than this professional persona. But he seems different from the man whose hand I held in the ambulance. Like that version is the real one, trapped beneath this polished veneer.

“I’m sorry about your clinic,” I say quietly as I think back on that moment we met. “I wanted to make it to the hospital.”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” he asks, not taking his eyes from the wound he inspects.

“I thought it would be faster if I took myself.”

“You could have called from the clinic. Or found someone to help you along the way.” Dr. Kane turns his sharp gaze to me, scouring my face with analytical intensity. “There was no one around when you had your accident?”

I shake my head.

“Where did you crash?”

Panic twists through my veins, a burst of adrenaline that has nowhere to go. I swallow it down and try to stay still. “A side road. Not sure which one. I’m not really familiar with the area.”

“Did anyone see your crash?” he asks, glancing at me as he prods around the incision. He probably thinks he’s being stoic and unreadable, but I don’t miss the way his eyes narrow a fraction.

“Nope, don’t think so.”

“What about—”

“Dr. Kane,” a second doctor says, cutting short his next words as she enters the room, a nurse drifting in her wake with a cart of supplies. “I thought you weren’t due in until Thursday. This is a nice surprise.”

“Dr. Chopra,” he says with a deferential nod. I swear I catch a fleeting blush on his cheekbones when he turns to face her. A spark seems to catch in her eye, a little light behind her glasses. I guess I’m not the only one who noticed the hint of color in his face. “I thought I’d pick up an extra shift.”

“How’s our patient?”

“Getting there,” he says. He gestures to my leg as Dr. Chopra joins him to look down at my incision. Everything is still swollen, not that I want to look too closely. They chatter about blood values and medications as Dr. Chopra picks up the tablet and reviews my file. Dr. Kane presses a final time around the incision before he seems to almost reluctantly admit to Dr. Chopra that “everything seems stable.”

“Excellent,” she says, reading through the notes before she passes the tablet back to him. “In that case, I think we can probably discharge you tomorrow afternoon, Rose. Nurse Naomi here can help you with a bath now and put a fresh dressing on that incision.”




With a brief smile, she departs, and Dr. Kane shifts on his feet as though he’s a metal fleck unable to resist her magnetic pull as she strides toward the door. His gaze bounces between me and the nurse, and then finally settles on me. “I’m not in tomorrow,” he says, and I don’t know how to respond, the silence lingering a little longer than it should. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thank you. For everything. Truly.”

With a curt nod in reply and a final beat of delay, he turns and strides away. Naomi and I watch the door, and I half expect him to come back in and say whatever seemed to be weighing on his mind those final moments before he left. But he doesn’t reappear.

Naomi turns my way with a brittle smile, shifting a lock of dark curly hair behind her ear. “Let’s get you up,” she says, and raises the head of my mattress. There’s a stretched silence as she helps me to sit up, a tense pause as though she’s not ready to help me down from the bed.