Chapter 50
Layla
I’d barely stepped back inside the front doors of the hospital before I was returned to the demanding pace of medical life—hadn’t even made it back to my office.
“Incoming! Stab victim, male, mid-thirties!” a nurse called, her voice sharp with urgency.
In no time at all, I was gloved and masked, in the heat of the trauma bay. As the stretcher was wheeled in, and I caught sight of the unconscious patient stretched out atop it, my heart fell.
I knew the man beneath the oxygen mask.
It was the police officer from the alley. The one who looked like Aldo.
But how …
“Vitals are dropping!” one of the nurses yelled, and that thrust everything else into the background. A man was injured, and I could save him.
“I need suction and more gauze!” I ordered as I stepped up to the table. First glance told me he was bleeding heavily from a wound in his side. The paramedics had packed it, but the injury looked deep.
Still, I could save him. “Prep for surgery immediately.”
“Yes, Doctor Bennett.”
The familiar calm of surgical focus stole over me as we wheeled the fallen officer to the OR. The world outside faded away, replaced by this world—my world.
“I’ve got you, Officer,” I murmured to the unconscious man. “You’re going to be all right.”
Hours later—after I’d repaired the damage, after his condition had stabilized, after I’d scrubbed out and clocked out—I returned to the recovery ward to check on the police officer.
His eyes fluttered open as I approached. He was awake, though pale and groggy.
“Hey,” I said softly, pulling a chair up to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered, his voice raspy. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “But I’m alive, and something tells me it’s thanks to you.”
I chuckled. “I was just returning the favor.”
“What happened?” The officer’s brows furrowed. “Why am I here?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just saw a wound and started operating.”
“The guy from the alley,” he groaned, like his memories were slowly drifting back. “He bumped me when he ran out of the alley. I didn’t realize until after that he had a knife.”
“After you let him go, too!” I huffed. What an asshole. Why did bad things always happen to good people?
“I’m Ethan, by the way.” The man with Aldo’s face offered me a warm smile—much too warm to belong to the cold Mafia king. “I’d shake your hand, but everything hurts.”
“I would tell you not to if you tried,” I assured him. He laughed—and then winced. I continued. “I will also tell you I’m not funny enough to be worth the pain of laughing.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Ethan grunted. “Though, I kind of wish I didn’t have to get stabbed to have an actual conversation with you.”
It was my turn to wince. “Yeah, walking alone was maybe not the best idea.”
“Too many bad guys, not enough cops,” said Ethan. “Maybe next time, call me?”
The words sent a jolt of surprise through me. Was he asking me out—or merely being friendly? Why did my stomach feel like a swarm of butterflies had suddenly taken flight?
“I’m serious.” Ethan shifted slightly on the bed, wincing again, as he reached for the nightstand. A little notepad lay on the plastic tabletop, and he fumbled to tear off a piece. “Here’s my number.”
“You wrote it down.” My brows lifted. “Before I got here.”
“I was hoping you’d stop by.”
“You … were?” I blinked, caught off guard by his boldness.
“You seem like the type of doctor to follow up with a patient,” he murmured, and why did that make my heart beat faster? Was it because he really did look like Aldo—the same piercing gaze, the same strong jawline, the same mesmerizing lips?
Or maybe it was that he looked so much like Aldo, and yet felt so very different.
Maybe that’s what made the next words tumble from my lips. “Have we met before?”
Ethan’s dark brow furrowed, and his words came out softly. “Why do you ask?”
“You just …” I chewed my lower lip, trying to find the right words. “You remind me of someone.”
“Do I?” The lines of Ethan’s face smoothed into an expression I couldn’t read, and for a moment, I feared he might shut me out.
He didn’t.
He offered me his truth. “Honestly, it’s entirely possible we have. I was in a bad car accident a few years ago. Left me with some … memory gaps.”
I tilted my head, intrigued. “Gaps? So we could have met before, and you wouldn’t remember?”
“Gaps is putting it lightly,” he admitted. “I don’t remember anything about my life before the accident.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.” Ethan agreed. “I had no idea who I was. No ID, no wallet, no phone. Couldn’t remember my own name.”
My mouth opened in shock. He could be anyone then. Was he somehow related to Aldo? “You don’t remember anything? Family? Friends?”
“Nope.”
“That must have been terrifying,” I realized in a soft murmur. “To wake up so alone.”
“It was,” Ethan admitted with a grim nod. “But I’ve made peace with it. Started over. Became a cop, built a life. Sometimes I wonder, though, if there’s more to my story.”
My mind spun. Could this really be a coincidence, or was there something else here, something I wasn’t seeing? His resemblance to Aldo was too striking to ignore, but I couldn’t bring myself to voice the suspicion.
“Well, I hope you’ll find answers one day,” I said.
“Maybe.” Ethan lifted one shoulder in half a shrug. “I’m happy though. And I just handed my number over to a very interesting woman who recently saved my life so … things are looking up.”
I laughed. “Is that so?”
“And now I’ve made her laugh. So. Yeah.”
“Well,” I couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across my face—and stayed. “I admire your positive attitude. I can’t even imagine …”
I let the words trail off. Ethan’s sudden presence felt like a puzzle piece I didn’t know how to fit into my life.
Was it merely a coincidence—or was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything about his earlier life a sign that there was some hidden connection? Some hidden meaning to my life?
And if there was, what did it mean for me? For Aldo? For Eli?
“What’s on your mind right now?” Ethan’s soft voice drew me back from my spiraling.
“Hm?” I blinked, bringing not-Aldo’s face back into focus.
He smiled softly, kindly. “You got lost just then, didn’t you?”
“A little, maybe.” I forced myself to return the smile. “A lot on my mind at the moment. Sorry. But I’m back now.”
“No worries.” Ethan’s tone turned wry. “I think whatever drugs you doctors have me on are making me sleepy anyway.”
“You should rest,” I agreed. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.” Ethan’s lashes fluttered closed. I waited until he had drifted off to sleep before I rose from my chair. I paused at the door to spare him one last glance—that all-too-familiar visage leaving me … uneasy.
And yet, his soft smile, his charming ease, the positivity of his very existence … All of that felt like something else entirely. Like hope.
I didn’t know what to think about him, much less do.
So I kept his number in my pocket, like a lifeline
And I kept his truths close, too—his amnesia, his resemblance to the man I’d once called husband. If there was a connection, a hidden truth there, I decided, it would reveal itself in time.
When it did, I’d be ready. Until then … Wouldn’t hurt to get to know my patient a little better, would it?
