A Surgeon's Dilemma

~Collins' POV~

The sound of water running in the basin beyond the door muffled itself with the low hum of the hospital hallway. I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, staring blankly at the row of fluorescent lights above. My white coat was gone—wrapped around Amelia like some kind of security blanket.

She had looked so pale when I pulled her out of that ridiculous argument with Sophie's mother. I hated the way she kept apologizing when it wasn't her fault. The way she bowed her head, her shoulders trembling, stirred something uncomfortable in me.

"Amelia," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

I straightened when the bathroom door creaked open. Amelia peeked her head out, her eyes darting down the hall, searching, before landing on me.

Her face was red. Her eyes were uncertain. "Um… Collins?" she started, the volume barely there.

I arched my brow. Waiting. She said nothing. Her fingers danced on my jacket hem. Her face hued an even deeper shade of pink.

"Well?" I prompted, trying to be as neutral as possible.

"I… I…" was all that escaped, her face even more beet-red as she looked into the floor as if it were going to swallow her.

"What is it Amelia?" this time softer and leaned in a little.

She finally faced forward, shivering lips. "I-I don't have a pad," words tripped over each other to fall out of her like an avalanche.

The hall seemed to lock up around us. For a second, I just wasn't processing what she'd said.

"You… need a pad?" I repeated slowly, blinking at her.

She nodded furiously, looking away.

I felt my throat begin to tense. A pad? She had to be kidding me asking me to

"Why are you asking me?" I found myself saying, my voice a little strained.

She had bit her lip, a look between embarrassment and desperation on her features. "I…there's no one else…

Nobody else? What of the nurses, the other women scurrying around the hospital? Why would that be me?

Still, there was something in that gaze-it looked as if she just wanted to fall right through the floor-that would curtail any protest from my throat. She seemed wholly abandoned.

I blew hard and tossed a hand through my hair, settling the decision. "Very well. Stay.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Don't make me change my mind," I said gruffly, already walking away.

The nurse's station was abuzz, staff dashing to and from with clipboards and files. I kept my face as composed as possible, though inside me was twisting into knots.

"Dr. Collins, do you need something?" one of them asked as I approached.

I faltered, my neck warming up in a hot flush. "I need… a pad," I replied flatly.

The nurse blinked at me, seemingly taken by surprise. "A… pad?!”

"Yes, a sanitary pad," I said again, forcing my eyes to stay on hers. My voice was level, but inside, I wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it.

The nurse's lips quivered and she seemed to be trying not to burst out laughing. "Dr. Collins, are you… sure?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I snapped, immediately regretting the tone of my voice.

She nodded quickly, digging into a drawer. "Here," she said, handing me a small package.

I snatched it from her hand, grunting an abrupt "Thanks" and started spinning on my heel. I knew their eyes were all following me.

"Isn't he a heart surgeon?"

"Must be changing over to specialties."

I gritted my teeth and willed that the hot fury welling within me did not show in my actions.

When I came back with the pad, Amelia was still standing just inside the door, and she snapped her head up when I came in, her face lighting up with both relief and mortification.

"Here," I said, extending it to her.

She took it from me, reaching out a little hesitantly; her fingers brushed mine. "Thank you," she whispered, hardly looking at me.

I stepped backward stiffly, nodding quickly. "Hurry it up," I muttered, moving backward toward the hall so she wouldn't have to say another word.

It wasn't until several minutes later I'd had time to reach the kitchen and return with another handful of crackers that Amelia emerged, her actions reluctant. Her face was still pink, but a bashful smile tugged at her lips.

"Thanks… again," she whispered.

I waved it off, not wanting to think how small and fragile she looked.

She looked down at my coat, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly. "I'll wash this and give it back when we get home," she said.

"Don't bother," I said, already moving down the hall. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What? No!" she protested, hurrying after me. "I can't leave yet. Sophie—

"She doesn't need you here," I snapped, wheeling on her. "The doctors are taking care of her and her parents don't want you around anyway."

Her mouth opened and then shut, nothing coming out.

"She's not going to die, Amelia," I said, softening the smallest amount. "Go home."

I reached for her wrist and started towing her toward the door before she could get another word out.

"Wait—Collins!" she cried, stumbling as I hauled her after me.

She didn't struggle much after that, though I knew she was pouting behind me.

The drive back onto the main road was silent. Amelia sat ramrod stiff in the passenger seat of the car, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared out the window.

I glanced to my side at her from the corner of my eye, the tension between us hung thick in the air. Finally, I broke the silence.

“Where'd you go?" I said dryly and calmly, but a bit frosty, while looking at her.

Turning around to me with a baffled expression, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What were you doing before the hospital?"

Still slightly furrowed over, she replied, "Shopping, I was out shopping with Sophie."

"Shopping?"-I repeated, allowing this time a tinge of resentment in my tone-"Were you going to hit the town with the dude who called you this morning?”

Amelia's eyes widened in surprise. Then, to my annoyance, she smiled—a shy, almost playful smile. "Not exactly. I was just buying something for his birthday party."

Birthday party? The words gut-punched me. I squeezed my fingers onto the wheel, whitening my knuckles.

What the hell was wrong with me? It was a party. Some guy. Not my problem.

“Is he your boyfriend?" I asked, my voice going out before I could reel the words back.

The question hung in the air, heavy as a thrown gauntlet.

Amelia's face turned a flash of surprise over her features. She looked at me, her gaze searching mine for something that I couldn't quite tell.

"Why do you want to know?" she said finally and without much voice.

I parted my lips to answer but could bring forth no word, because what could I tell her? That I felt jealous? Even the image in my head of her and another was an abhorrent one?

Since I didn't answer her, she turned back to the window, her body rigid.

The rest of the ride, the silence was crippling.

We finally arrived at the house; Amelia practically leaped out before the car was stopped.

"Thanks for the ride," she grumbled, heading toward the front door.

I watched her go, my jaw clenching. Her sudden coldness only fed into my irritation.

"How childish," I grumbled to myself, slamming the door of my car.

But as I stood there, watching her disappear into the house, another thought crept into my mind.

"She's still a child," I said, now speaking out loud and attempting to convince myself. "She shouldn't have boyfriends. Yes. No boyfriends."

The words sounded hollow, even as I said them.