This is Living (Living #1.5) Read online

  This is Living

  Copyright © 2016 Melody Dawn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Playlist

  Author Links

  Another book…another dream realized

  Marisa-Rose Shor with Cover Me, Darling

  Samantha Wiley with Proofreading By the Page

  Brenda Wright with Formatting Done Wright

  Maria Lazarou with Obsessive Pimpettes

  Melody’s Hot Chicks

  To my beta readers: Thanks so much for your help

  To Judy: I love our late night chats…can’t wait for more

  To Jenna: because you make me laugh

  To RJ Thompson aka Jenn: your work inspires me greatly and I’m so proud to call you my friend.

  To Crystal: the best friend a girl could have and we share a brain so I kind of have to love you lol ;)

  To my husband: I love you more than life

  To God: because you’re always there for me.

  To my 5 angel babies: you are forever in my heart

  With love,

  Melody Dawn

  Present Day

  It’s fucking crazy in here tonight. From the amount of people in both the waiting and treatment rooms, it looks like every sick person in the city of Houston is in the Methodist Hospital ER. It’s nights like this when I wonder why I didn’t stick with my first career choice: Engineering.

  I’ve been here for over 18 hours and though my shift is actually over, I’m unable to leave due to the massive patient load. There’s no way only one doctor could handle this alone and still treat on a proficient level.

  A wave of exhaustion rolls over me and I wish I could start a caffeine IV to drive away my tiredness. Instead, I grab a cup of coffee from the ER community coffee pot and drink as fast as I can without burning my mouth irreparably. Although it tastes like shit, I need it to help me keep going. I don’t have the luxury of giving into my lack of sleep, especially when I’m treating cases such as the one on its way in.

  A crew from Acadian Ambulance called in to report a few moments ago that they will be arriving with a barely responsive 46 year old male exhibiting signs of cardiac distress. The EKG forwarded from the ambulance shows definitive abnormalities that will have to be treated right away.

  The ER radio crackles and a voice announces their impending arrival with the critical patient. The nurses have already set up a room with everything we might need to treat him so now there’s nothing left to do but wait.

  LaTasha, my charge nurse for the evening, alerts me to the patient’s arrival.

  “Dr. Reece, your cardiac case is coming in.”

  Just as she finishes her sentence, the ambulance entrance to the ER slides open and two medics rush in with my newest patient. He is pale and showing signs of shortness of breath even though he has a nasal cannula of 100% O2 going.

  “Room 2,” I bark at everyone following me.

  Pushing him into the assigned room, the paramedics go about transferring him to our gurney while the nurses check his vitals.

  “Mr. Santiago, I’m Dr. Reece. Can you tell me where your pain is located and on a scale of 1-10, how bad you’re hurting?”

  I see him trying to make sense of my words and one of the guys that brought him in says, “He only speaks Spanish.”

  Immediately, I switch over to Spanish to make him more comfortable. I introduce myself and ask where his pain is located as well as the intensity of it.

  “Senor Santiago, soy el Dr. Reece.¿Me puede decir donde se encuentra el dolor y en una escala de 1-10, lo mal que te haces daño?”

  Looking relieved that he can understand me, he points to mid-sternum and motions down his right arm.

  LaTasha brings over his newest EKG strip and comparing it to the original, I see his heart rhythm is deteriorating.

  “Page Dr. Najalani for a cardiac consult and do a blood draw for a CBC, chem 12, and cardiac enzymes. Also, hang a bag of 5% dextrose with a bolus of Amiodarone. Repeat his EKG and if there’s no improvement, come and get me. Let me know when Dr. Najalani gets here.”

  Knowing that she will follow my instructions to the letter, I make my way back over to the patient’s bed to see what else he might need to make him as comfortable as posible.

  Continuing in Spanish, I ask if he needs anything for pain and what number he is rating his discomfort.

  He grimaces and replies that he puts it at 20. Since our pain scale is only 1-10 and all of his symptoms point towards a heart attack, I can see why he felt the need to give me an overly high number.

  I look over at LaTasha, “He says his pain is at a 20. Give him 4mg of Morphine, IV push, but keep a close check on his blood pressure and heart rate. I don’t want his BP to bottom out from the meds. If he doesn’t get any relief, let me know. I’ve got to see some other patients. Come find me if anything changes. Otherwise, I’ll be checking in as often as I can.”

  Switching back to Spanish, I try to reassure him, “Mr. Santiago, I will be checking on you and LaTasha will be taking care of you as well. I’ve also called in one of our best cardiologists to take a look at you.

  He reaches up and grabs my had, “Gracias, doctor.” Thank you, doctor. A feeling of warmth goes through me and that’s exactly why I didn’t become an engineer. It’s times like this when my career decision makes the most sense…I want to give people hope when they’re at their lowest.

  Now it’s a waiting game to see the results of his blood tests and how he responds to the medication… unless his condition goes south…then we’ve got a huge problem.

  I make my way back to the ER desk and chart his progress before moving on to my next batch of patients. Vaguely, I notice it’s getting close to my sons’ bedtime and time for my nightly phone call. I make a mental note to take a short break after my next few cases.

  Unfortunately, that never happens. Instead, I spend the next few hours bogged down with patients. By the time, I’m able to take a break, I fall into one of the beds in the doctor’s lounge and my phone call is forgotten.

  Not fully awake, I roll to the other side of the bed seeking my husband’s warm body. It’s a habit I formed when we started living together years ago. At that time, I
needed to feel protected even if it was only from my own thoughts and fears…especially from those. With him wrapped around me, I felt like no one in the world could touch me. That feeling has never gone away and neither has my need for it, although now I just do it because I love it. He got rid of those fears long ago, so now I just bask in the feel of him without my brain tripping me up.

  Instead of Jayson, I feel the coolness of empty sheets. Disappointment hits me and I reach over and turn on my bedside lamp to look around for evidence of his being here. His nightstand as well as the chair he usually throws his clothes on shows that he never made it home. I reach for my phone thinking I must have turned the r0inger down and look for his missed call or text. We have a rule that he always calls or texts if he has to stay for another shift or he can’t get leave for some reason. It’s the second night in a row that he hasn’t come home from the hospital.

  Our alarm clock shows it’s almost 3:00 AM and my heart lurches in my chest when I realize that my phone shows he didn’t call or text either. Panic rushes through me and it’s almost crippling. Lying back down, I stare at the phone while telling myself to get a grip. If something had happened, I would have been contacted. Right? What if they didn’t know who to contact or what if he’s too hurt to let someone know who to call?

  Trying not to have a full-on freak-out, I hit my favorites list and tap the top number until it starts to dial. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail and I can’t get anything out. My vision blurs and I feel like I can’t breathe. I pull out long forgotten therapy techniques to calm myself down. Having a panic attack is not going to help anything and if I’m not careful, I will hyperventilate my way into passing out. I’ve got two toddlers in the house depending on me, so I have to keep it together.

  After I get my breathing under control, I fire over a text to Jayson’s phone and hope that he will answer right away or if he’s hurt, someone will hear the phone and contact me.

  Chloe: Where are you? Are you ok? Please text or call me back. If I don’t hear from you in 15 minutes, I’m calling the hospital. And probably your dad and brother. Call me. Love you.

  With nothing left to do but wait, I turn over and bury my face in his pillow and inhale. The familiar scent of him causes tears to burn my eyes. Instead of the calm I was hoping to feel, my emotions began to amp up even more. Logically, I know I’m probably going way overboard, but my heart isn’t listening to my head right now.

  My phone beeps with an incoming text and with my heart in my throat, I hit the text icon while praying I’m not going to see that he has been hurt or worse.

  Jayson: Hey. Sorry, I fell asleep in the lounge. It was crazy last night and I thought I would rest for a minute, but I ended up sleeping for a few hours. I’ll be home in a while. Love you, too, princess.

  My first emotion is relief. I feel it in every part of my body. I’m so glad he’s safe and coming home to me. The very next emotion is anger. I’m so pissed right now I can’t see straight. I’ve been imagining him hurt or dead and though I don’t want to admit it to myself, possibly with another woman, and he has been asleep. I want to scream at him, but instead I send a text back. What I have to say has to be said face-to-face.

  Chloe: Be safe.

  Jayson: Are you mad?

  Chloe: Right now, I’m glad you’re safe. We will talk when you get home.

  I put my phone in sleep mode and turn over to try and get some sleep. My boys will be up in about 3 or 4 hours and that will be here in no time. Sleep is elusive and I lie there and try to calmly think about the situation. Of course, I’m glad he stayed and slept. I would never want him on the road when he is tired. But, how hard is it to dial a freaking phone or send a text? His is permanently attached to him so it’s not like he doesn’t have a way.

  Closing my eyes, I tell myself that I will talk to him like a calm adult when I see him. I will tell him that he has to call no matter what so I don’t freak out in the future and that he always has to tell the boys goodnight and that he loves them no matter what.

  Ok, so maybe the logical portion of my brain isn’t down for the count. I know I need to get things straight in my mind before I see him so I don’t lose my temper, say mean things, and end up in a huge fight that I really don’t want to be in.

  At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep because suddenly it’s morning. The sun is shining through our bedroom window and I feel little hands pulling at me.

  “Mama,Mama, get up. We want pancakes.”

  I raise my head to see which one is the spokesperson this morning. Each morning it’s different and I play a game with myself to see if I can figure it out before I look up. I’m going to guess today it’s Brendon because the last two days have been his brother. Opening my eyes, I see Jayson’s two mini-me’s looking at me hopefully. I was right, today Brendon is taking the lead.

  As I look into their beautiful faces, I’m reminded of how much I love their dad. Sitting up in bed, I grab them both and pull them into a huge hug. Briefly, I notice he still isn’t home. What the hell is going on?

  “All right, boys. Wait here whileMama does her business.” They laugh when they hear me say this. Why, I don’t know, but I grin at them anyway. “I’ll be back.”

  Giving them both kisses, I go into our bathroom and start my abbreviated morning routine. I have even less time because I have to add in something I don’t normally do. Immediately, I get butterflies in my stomach, but repress it as I hurry. Go to the restroom, check, wash hands, check, brush teeth, check, freak out, check…

  Enough of this, I’ve got two little ones waiting on me. I pull my hair up into a bun so it will be out of my way during pancake making. We’ve been known to get a little messy while making breakfast since I always let the boys help me and I don’t want pancake batter in my hair.

  It’s time to see what my little monsters have been up to. I walk back into my bedroom and they are sitting on the bed with angelic expressions. That’s a bit scary, but I don’t see anything out of place so I hope for the best. My eyes stray to the clock again and it’s 7:35 AM…he’s still not here and no phone call. Panic fills me again, but I try not to let the boys see it. What if he really has been with someone else? Am I losing him?

  In a rush, I grab my phone and send a text.

  Chloe: Are you ok? You haven’t called. I thought you were coming home. Please text or call me back.

  If I don’t hear from him soon, I’m paying a visit to the hospital. I feel bile crawling up my throat and I try to push it back along with the tears in my eyes. It’s probably nothing, I tell myself. It has to be or I’m not going to survive it. All I can think about is that he might have hooked up with a nurse. My fists clench and I think to myself that maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t standing here right now.

  I realize that I’m standing there with my eyes closed; most likely looking like a crazy person. I don’t want to freak Brendon and Braxton out with my behavior so I open my eyes, relax my hands, and put a smile on my face before leading them to the kitchen.

  “Ok, let’s go make pancakes. What kind do you want today? Blueberry, strawberry, or Blackberry?”

  They both yell “Chocolate chip” but that is so not happening. They don’t need any chocolate this early in the morning and I want them to eat healthy anyway. Wisely, I don’t answer because I know it will lead to an all-out begging session. I might have passed on a chocolate addict gene to them. I can put away my weight in chocolate if I let myself and I bet they can probably do the same.

  On the way to the kitchen, I convince them to also to take care of business which brings on more giggles. I love hearing their laughter…it’s one of those things that cleanses the soul of anything bad. Once they’re done and hands are washed, much to their dismay, we arrive in the kitchen.

  I’ve always loved to cook, but since being married, I’ve taken it to a much bigger level. It makes me happy to cook for Jayson and the boys. And we’ve all bonded over a meal many times when we cook together. Not o
nly am I instilling a love for family in my babies, but some lucky ladies are going to be thrilled in about 18 or 20 years when they find someone and cook for them.

  The next few minutes involve getting the boys set up in their booster seats and turning on the kitchen TV to cartoons for them until I’m ready for their help. Opening up the refrigerator, I pull out the containers with various kinds of fruit marked on them.

  Before I close the door, my gaze takes in the contents of my fridge. Everything is neatly packaged and labeled and also arranged in food groups. My kitchen, especially my refrigerator and my pantry are my pride and joy and looking at them, it’s evident that my OCD is out in full force. Whatever, I like it, so it’s staying.

  I also pull out the whipped cream. Since we aren’t having chocolate, I can add whipped cream to the fruit. God, I’m making myself hungry. I’m also aware that I’m doing everything not to think about Jayson’s absence and lack of contact.

  I decide to avoid the fight over which fruit we will use and open up the containers for all three. The phone rings and my head whips around. I’m staring at it like it’s a snake. Is it Jayson? Should I act pissed or happy to hear from him? Whatever, just pick up the damn phone!’

  Without looking at the caller ID, I grab it and slide the talk button forward.

  “Hello.” I sound breathless like I’ve been running a mile.

  “Hey, are you busy?” It’s not Jayson, it’s Madison. I feel disappointment settle over me and try to shrug it off so we can talk.

  “Not really. Just getting ready to make breakfast with the boys.” I sound amazingly cheery and hopefully she will not see through it.

  “Why do you sound so cheerful? I lived with you for two years. I remember what you’re like when you wake up. You’re way too happy. You must have gotten some this morning.” I can hear the grin in her voice as she says this.

  She doesn’t know it, but that was the wrong thing to say.

  “I’m fine,” I answer in a sharp tone.

  “What’s wrong with you?”