Page 6 of One Reckless Night

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JARED

The hospital administrator’s office was too small for the egos crammed into it. I stood with my arms crossed, glaring at the head of neurosurgery, Dr. Mitchell, who sat behind his desk like some kind of self-important king. This might be his hospital, but I was the one with the magic hands.

Shawn was leaning against the wall, checking his watch every thirty seconds like he had somewhere better to be, and Clair was perched on the edge of a chair, clutching her notes like they were a lifeline. She looked uncomfortable, shifting every few seconds. I didn’t blame her. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a scalpel. Surgeon joke.

“You’re asking me to take an unnecessary risk,” Dr. Mitchell said in what I took to be a condescending tone. “The tumor’s location is too precarious. A conservative approach is the safer option.”

“Safer for who?” I shot back, my voice sharp. “For you? For your precious hospital? Because it’s not safer for the kid. That tumor is aggressive, and if we don’t take it out now, it’s going to kill him. Your ‘conservative approach’ is a death sentence wrapped in a bow.”

Mitchell’s jaw tightened, and he leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk. “You’re here as a courtesy, Dr. Welch. This isn’t your hospital, and that isn’t your patient. You don’t get to waltz in here and demand we risk a fourteen-year-old boy’s life on some experimental procedure.”

I took a step closer to the desk, my eyes locked on his. “I’m here because you called me. You asked for my help because you know this case is beyond your skill set. So don’t lecture me about courtesy when you’re the one who can’t handle the job.”

“I have to look at the big picture,” he said.

I snorted. “You’re looking at getting your ass sued. You don’t want this case to be featured at the next M and M. Being a coward doesn’t save lives.”

Mitchell’s face turned a shade of red that would’ve been comical if I didn’t think the guy was such a prick. He stood abruptly, his chair rolling across the tile floor. “That’s enough, Welch. This meeting is over. We’ll proceed with the standard treatment plan, and that’s final.”

I didn’t budge. “Standard?” I barked, my voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Standard is what got us here in the first place. That boy doesn’t need your textbook bullshit—he needs someone who’s willing to fight for him. Someone who actually gives a damn whether he lives or dies.”

“You think I don’t care?” Mitchell snapped, jabbing a finger at me. “You think I want to see a child die on my operating table? My job is to protect my patients, not to gamble with their lives on some half-baked theory!”

“Half-baked?” I took another step forward, my thighs bumping his desk. “You call five years of research and a ninety-two percent success rate half-baked? Or are you just pissed because you didn’t come up with it yourself?”

Shawn cleared his throat from the corner of the room, his voice calm but pointed. “Jared, maybe we should⁠—”

I cut him off with a sharp look. “No, Shawn. Maybe we should let Dr. Mitchell here explain to that kid’s parents why he’s too scared to try something that could save their son’s life.”

“I’m not scared!” Mitchell argued. “I’m practical.”

“This isn’t about egos or hospital politics,” I said. “This is about a kid who’s running out of time. And if you’re too scared to do what needs to be done, then I’ll take him to my facility in Key West and do it myself.”

Mitchell’s face turned red. “You’re out of line, Welch.”

“And you’re out of your depth,” I shot back. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to let me save this kid’s life here, or are you going to let your pride get in the way?”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Clair looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair, and Shawn was pinching the bridge of his nose like he was trying to ward off a headache. Finally, Mitchell sat back down, his expression dark. “Get out of my office.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. I turned on my heel and walked out, Shawn and Clair scrambling to follow me. The hallway was quiet, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. I could feel the weight of their stares as we walked. They really shouldn’t have been that surprised.

“That could have gone better,” Shawn muttered, falling into step beside me.

“It went exactly how it needed to go,” I said, my voice tight. “Mitchell’s too scared to take risks, and that kid doesn’t have time for scared.”

“What are you going to do?” Clair asked, her voice hesitant. “I don’t want to be negative, but that boy really doesn’t have time. If we don’t act now, it’ll be too late.”

“I’m going to talk to the family,” I said, not slowing down. “If Mitchell won’t let me operate here, I’ll take the kid to Key West.”

Shawn groaned. “Jared, you can’t just⁠—”

“Watch me,” I said, cutting him off.

I knew the game. I knew the insurance and money bullshit was more important than a person’s life. I didn’t give a shit about any of that.

We reached the waiting room where the boy’s parents were sitting, their faces drawn with worry. My heart went out to them. No parent should bury a child. It wasn’t the natural order of things. I was blessed with the power to prevent that from happening in many cases. The mother looked up as we approached, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Dr. Welch?” she asked, her voice trembling.