Back To You (A Remington Medical Contemporary Romance) Read online

  Back to You

  Kimberly Kincaid

  BACK TO YOU

  © 2019 Kimberly Kincaid

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Other works by Kimberly

  Acknowledgments

  As always, the blood, sweat, and tears it takes to get a book from my imagination to the page doesn’t happen without copious amounts of assistance. I owe the following people an enormous debt of gratitude:

  Nicole Bailey, who is as flexible with her schedule as she is an amazing editor, and Jaycee DeLorenzo, who just keeps knocking these book covers out of the park. I love working with you both. Avery Flynn and Robin Covington, you two keep me sane (and it is a really. Tough. Job). Rachel Hamilton and Jen Williams, thank you for your early reads and tremendous enthusiasm. Janie Crouch, your wisdom and your willingness to share it are appreciated more than you know.

  To the ever-amazing Matt Nathanson, who keeps writing songs like “Used to Be” that make me think up all sorts of complex what-if love stories, thank you for the music that inspires my words.

  And finally, to my daughters and Mr. K, I am so deeply grateful for your patience, your words of encouragement, and your unfailing support. I am able to do what I do because of you. Love you (more)!

  1

  “You do know that if I wasn’t married, straight, and hugely pregnant, I would totally kiss you on the mouth for this, right?”

  Charleston Becker looked at her temporary co-worker and permanent best friend, Tess Michaelson, and laughed despite the tension that had been churning in her belly like a cyclone ever since she’d arrived in North Carolina at the crack of midnight last night.

  “You do know that if I wasn’t straight and about to be married to my job—or, your job, I guess—I’d take you up on that, right?”

  They paused for a quick but tight hug beforeTess snorted and led the way past the double-wide automatic doors that had just shushed open to invite them in from the September-morning sunshine. “About to be? Please, girl. You’ve been married to your job since we were interns,” she pointed out, her steps hitching over the linoleum less than a second later. “Shit. I’m sorry. You just got here, like literally. I didn’t mean to bring up when we were interns, and I definitely didn’t mean to bring up mar—”

  “It’s fine,” Charleston interrupted, firm and final. Okay, so cutting Tess off mid-apology wasn’t particularly best friend-esque, but Charleston had crossed the threshold of Remington Memorial Hospital, where she’d be working as an attending physician in the emergency department for the next ten weeks. She wasn’t the sad, naïve intern she’d been the last time she’d set foot in this place. She was a board-certified surgeon now, and a goddamned spectacular one. She had an image to uphold—a work-isn’t-everything-it’s-the-only-thing, best-doctor-in-the-house-if-not-the-state-or-maybe-even-the-universe image. Image Charleston was composed. Calm. Always in control.

  Even if that cyclone in Actual Charleston’s belly was still a very real, very twisty-turny thing. Freaking involuntary physiological response.

  She needed some levity, and fast. “So, look at you! You look fantastic,” Charleston said, taking her very best smile out for a test drive. Tess’s dark green scrubs, light brown ponytail, and crisp, white doctor’s coat were all par for the course. The roundly curved belly protruding from beneath said scrubs? Definitely a new development since the last time Charleston had seen her six months ago, when Tess had come to Tennessee to visit for a long weekend. “How do you feel now that you’re in the home stretch?”

  A tart laugh crossed Tess’s lips, followed by a lift of one brow, halfway to her hairline. “I feel like there’s a pro wrestler camped out in my uterus, and I look like I swallowed a watermelon like a shot of top-shelf tequila. But you are a great liar and an even better friend.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere.” Charleston’s grin was a three-to-one ratio of sass to sweetness. “Obviously, since I agreed to cover your maternity leave.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

  Tess’s question walloped Charleston from its point of origin in left field, and she battled the urge to let her surprise make an appearance on her face. Her return to Remington was not a big deal. Ten weeks, here then gone. The sooner she hammered that home, the better.

  “You’re my best friend, Tess, and you need me. Why wouldn’t I be okay with this?”

  Ever pragmatic, Tess planted her hands over her hips and her professional-grade clogs into the lobby floor. “Uh, let’s see. Because you’re back in Remington after six years of refusing to set foot in the state of North Carolina. Because of how your internship ended when you were here.” Her voice softened. “Because you’re covering my maternity leave.”

  Charleston tackled the lesser of three evils. “I haven’t refused to cross the state line. I’ve just been busy at work.”

  “Busy by choice,” Tess pointed out, and shit, no pregnancy-brain for her BFF. “You have volunteered to be either at work or on-call on every holiday for which Hallmark makes a card for the last six years.”

  Technically the truth, but... “Come on. You know all the best cases come into the emergency department on big holidays. All the liquor and gluttony and family drama? It’s better than Mardi Gras.”

  “Actually, I don’t know that, because instead of being able to spend my holidays with my best friend, whose company I thoroughly enjoy but who has once again committed to work a double shift in the next state over, I’m stuck at Alec’s parents’ house, listening to my mother-in-law lecture me on the horrors of child care and the soulless mothers who leave their babies there. But that is a whole different car crash. Right now, we’re talking about you, and whether or not you’re really okay with being here.”

  Charleston blinked. Processed. Got the obvious thing out of the way. “Alec’s mother is a bird-faced shrew, and you have a soul the size of a supernova. You researched the hell out of child care facilities to find the best one in the city. And okay,” she admitted, because Tess was going to maul the topic like a pit bull terrier until she did. “So, I haven’t been back to Remington since we were interns. But we already talked about this weeks ago, when I agreed to fill in for you.”

  “I know,” Tess said. “But you’re not the only ride-or-die friend around here. I love you, Charlie.” She reached out to squeeze Charleston’s forearm. “You went through a lot before you transferred to Nashville Gen for the rest of your residency, and now that you’re here, in this hospital again, I just want to be sure you’re on the level.”

  Charleston shook her head, squeezing Tess right back with her opposite hand. “You have nothing to worry about. Yes, the year I worked here was difficult for me,” she started, then paused. Okay, fine. Difficult was a baseball stadium-sized euphemism for the unexpectedly pregnant/shotgun wedding/tragic miscarriage/quickie divorce roller coaster ride she’d been on as an intern. But six years had passed, for God’s sake, and she hadn’t seen or heard from the man who’d spearheaded her grief for even longer than that. In fact, it had been six years, four months, and twenty-two days since she’d clapped eyes on Parker Drake.

  Nope. Not letting him back into your brain pan, girl. Calm. Cool. Work. Now.

  Charleston swallowed past the tightness in her throat, straightening her spine as she continued, “But all of that is in the past, and I am so, so happy for you in the here and now. I’m also one hundred-percent focused on what’s in front of us—namely, that you need a qualified physician to cover your maternity leave so some viper doesn’t poach the attending job you busted your ass for while you’re home with your baby, and I just so happen to be a perfect fit.”

  “You really do,” Tess admitted, and finally, a smile ghosted over her mouth. “Plus, I bet the chief of staff at Nashville Gen did a fucking touchdown dance when you finally asked to take all that time off you’ve accrued. What kind of workaholic has ten weeks of leave stockpiled, anyway?”

  “The same kind who has ten weeks of time stockpiled for maternity leave?” Charleston ventured. Tess could accuse her of putting her nose to the grindstone all she wanted. It was all pot/kettle/
hypocrite for how much Tess herself worked—a fact that her best friend knew full well, if the middle finger she’d just flashed in Charleston’s direction was any indicator.

  “Yeah, yeah. Just because I have the time off doesn’t mean I want to take all of it at once. Ten weeks might as well be an eon. Most doctors come back from maternity leave after four, and I’ll be rusty as hell after three. Alec was supposed to split the time after the birth with me, fifty-fifty, so he could bond with the baby, too, but…you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Tess shook her head, her smile over-bright. “I’m just really glad you’re here.”

  For a heartbeat, Charleston was tempted to push. Truth was, she’d always thought Alec was a bit of a self-righteous prick. But since her significant-other track record consisted of one painful divorce and a string of first dates that had gone exactly nowhere, and she knew what it was like to want to change a touchy subject, good and fast, she let Tess drop the topic. For now, anyway.

  “I’m glad, too. Speaking of which”—she gestured to the glass-walled atrium that served as the hospital’s main lobby—“now that I’m back, albeit temporarily, get me up to speed on this place. It’s been a long time since I put in shifts in the ED. Staff, gossip, the best places to catch an hour of sleep on back-to-back shifts. Details, woman! These are things I need to know.”

  Tess laughed, just as Charleston knew she would, and whew. One waltz down memory lane, averted.

  “Okay. Not much has changed with the actual lay of the land over the last six years. The emergency department still takes up most of the main level.” Tess gestured around them with one hand. “Peds is still on the second floor, the lab’s on three, and surgery and radiology on four. Lucky for me, labor and delivery has a brand-new wing across from peds, where the old clinic used to be. They got a state-of-the-art new facility across the street about six months ago after Carter Davenport made a huge donation to the hospital to fund the whole shebang.”

  “Davenport,” Charleston repeated, the name ringing some far-off bell in her gray matter. “Isn’t he some kind of business magnate?”

  Tess nodded. “Owns half of Remington.”

  “And a fancy new clinic, apparently. Kind of a weird move, isn’t it? I thought he was a financier.” And one with a reputation for being a complete hard-ass, at that.

  “He is. But his wife died of cancer a couple years ago, and he made the donation like, a week later. His daughter is super involved in the hospital now. She’s on the board and everything.” Tess paused for a second before redirecting the conversation back to the topic. “Anyway, that’s pretty much the only thing about this place that’s different from when we were interns.”

  Oh, the fucking irony. The cyclone whirled back to life beneath Charleston’s light blue button-down blouse at the thought, and she pulled in a deep breath to tame the thing, once and for all. The antiseptic smell that was the calling card of every hospital in existence filled her nose, the combination of high-level disinfectant and hand sanitizing gel and manufactured citrus oddly comforting her. This, she recognized. This, she was good at. Work. Serious business. Saving lives.

  Tamping down thoughts of her past.

  “ED, peds, the lab, radiology, and surgery. Got it.” Charleston took in the lobby, re-memorizing the location of the waiting area and elevators on one side and the cafeteria on the other as she and Tess headed toward the hallway marked Emergency Department. “Is the cafeteria food still terrible?”

  “Oh, yeah, but the coffee is still strong enough to strip the paint off your car, so there’s that. Not that I’ve been able to have any for the past eight months, or that I’m bitter about that at all,” Tess said, her smile about as big and as fake as DDD breast implants. “But do yourself and your digestive tract a favor and bring your meals.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “The staff is all pretty decent,” Tess continued. Charleston talked shop with Tess often enough to be able to nod in agreement here, although ninety percent of the work stories they traded were about patients and cases rather than co-workers. “You’ve Skyped with Langston, so you know he’s an okay guy, albeit a massive stickler for the rules.”

  “He’s the chief of staff, Tess.” Charlie thought of the soft-spoken yet wildly serious doctor with whom she’d video conferenced twice over the last few weeks and laughed. Tess so wasn’t wrong about the man—he’d quadruple-checked every last one of her references before agreeing to let her sign on even temporarily—but still… “Most of them are. Anyway, I don’t plan on breaking any rules while I’m here.”

  Tess slowed her steps as the automatic doors leading into the emergency department, proper, did their thing. “Well, since you’re covering me so I can keep my job after this kiddo vacates my personal space, I’m truly grateful for that. The nurses love baked goods and romance novels, in case you want to get in good with them, which I highly recommend doing,” she continued without missing a beat or a breath. “And yes, that includes Connor, the flight medic.”

  “You have a flight medic?” Charleston’s brows popped.

  “Yep. Former Air Force Pararescue Jumper. Also an ICU nurse. He fills in on shifts down here in the ED when he can.”

  Huh. Can’t say she’d seen that one coming. “Right. So bring steamy books and breakfast pastries for the nurses’ lounge tomorrow. What else?”

  “There are three other attendings who rotate through the emergency department on a regular basis. George Higgins is a general surgeon.”

  “Ah, kindred spirit,” Charleston said. Although she was here to cover Tess in the ED, she was a general surgeon by practice, and as such, she’d been granted surgical privileges at Remington Memorial. She had every intention of putting them to use whenever possible.

  Tess made a sound that was less than polite. “Only if you’re a seventy-year-old man with a serious affinity for fly fishing.”

  “Or not.” Charleston pressed her smile between her lips. “But I do have an affinity for cool surgeries and saving lives. Think he’ll feel sharked if I try to lighten his workload while I’m here? When I’m not in the ED, of course.”

  “Are you kidding? Higgins would probably be all over that. He’s a good doctor, but let’s just say he doesn’t quite share your enthusiasm for overtime. In fact, he relies on the senior residents to do a pretty big chunk of the routine surgeries around here. He’ll probably be thrilled you’re willing to take on some of the tougher cases.”

  Suddenly, Charleston’s day felt a whole lot brighter. “Who’s next?”

  “Jonah Sheridan is your trauma surgeon. Under no circumstances should you let him flirt with you,” Tess said. “He’s pretty, and he’s an unbelievably good doctor. But he’s a total player, and I do mean total. He hasn’t so much been around the block as he owns the whole damned neighborhood. There are rumors that he even left his fiancée at the altar three years ago, although the actual facts are fuzzy. She ended up going into the Peace Corps like, a week later, though, so clearly, something big went down that she wanted to put behind her.”

  “Whoa, is that him?” Charleston asked, and holy crap. The guy walking toward them looked as if he’d been handcrafted by the latest issue of GQ magazine, his blond hair flawlessly disordered and his cheekbones so chiseled, they probably qualified as an actual work of art. He looked up from the electronic chart in his hand, his eyes (sweet Jesus, that color blue had to be fake, right?) landing on hers and crinkling at the edges as he smiled.

  “You must be Charlie. Tess has told us so much about you. Jonah Sheridan.” He extended a hand for the perfect not-too-hard, not-floppy-either handshake, which she returned in kind.