And Never Say Goodbye: A Town of Destiny Novel Read online

  AND NEVER SAY GOODBYE

  A Town of Destiny Novel

  Nancy Glynn

  Copyright © 2016

  by Nancy Glynn

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art by SwoonWorthy Book Covers

  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 e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-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’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Other Books by Nancy Glynn

  Town of Destiny Series

  Adult Contemporary Romance

  Women’s Fiction

  And Never Let Her Go

  Coming Soon!

  And Never Lose His Heart, On Preorder !

  And Never Give Up Hope, Spring 2017

  Summary

  Mallory McShane is a hero in some eyes, but she doesn't feel like one. Living in an old family farmhouse, hiding from tornadoes, she's biding her time. A promise still unmet. But thoughts of coworker, Lawson Gallagher, burn her soul, making the promise harder to fulfill.

  Lawson Gallagher's outgrowing his old bachelor ways, especially the more time he spends with the alluring Mallory. But her promise to someone from the past stands in their way. Desires of her possess him with every donor case they perform together. Respect merges into something more...

  He'll do whatever it takes...

  After Mallory and Lawson come together, they realize a love that's on a path to heartbreak. A promise stands between them, ready to snatch a future that's already doomed. A future that's been laid out for Mallory, dashing any hope of another man's love. Lawson dares to fight this plan. Will Mallory honor the promise...or her heart?

  Chapter One

  Mallory McShane’s job was nothing short of miraculous, at best. She tried not to be too cocky, but, hey, it is what it is. She was like a goddess around here. When she walked into the hospital, a sea parted and…okay, let’s not get crazy. They greeted her with a sigh of relief. The organ whisperer was here to calm the waters, or at least recover organs for someone in need, waiting on a long list. It’s just a job. At least that’s how she’d like to humbly see it, lest her head not fit in the hospital doors.

  As she drove through her childhood town of Destiny, IL, her eyes watered as she yawned, taking in the golden hues of the sun bursting over the horizon through her large sunglasses. Blossoming tulips popped out of gardens, welcoming the summer rays. It was always so quiet in this town at this time. Just her and the birds—maybe a passing car or two. Wearing her honey blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at her nape, mint green scrubs, her packed cooler in the trunk, and ready to leave her hard mask at home and lug her heart with.

  With this case, she didn’t get a chance to look at the board and didn’t know a lot about the donor, only that the patient was crashing and she was needed stat. Thank God she only lived five miles from this particular hospital. She’d get the needed information when she got there.

  Smirking, she shook her head. She was lucky. No family to hold her back. No husband or kids. Just free to get to any hospital in Illinois or sometimes be flown out of state to Springfield or Florida, which was always nice in the dead, cold winter of Chicago.

  Yes, she loved her freedom. Loved walking into the hospitals and being there for those grieving families. Broken families whose lives have just been turned upside down and needed to make a decision. Fast. A decision of either giving back to the world in some small way by sharing their loved one’s organs, or of keeping the organs safe and intact in their mother’s, father’s, spouse’s…or child’s little body.

  That’s the hardest part of this job—the babies…the children. Her coworkers, who were parents themselves, had an even harder time. Mallory could handle it better. She would get the call at 3:00 in the morning and asked if she could take a certain case. Yes, they understood she just got off-call. They begged and then would say, “You rock!” when she gave in. Always, she gave in.

  The horror stories seeped into her bones, changing her outlook on life from sunny to dark. A boy who got hit by a car while riding his bike to get his sister candy at the store after fighting with her. A baby who got crushed underneath his mother while being breastfed. Or the ones that were abused, silenced by a fist or some tool to shut them up so the young parent could watch TV in peace.

  Yeah…those cases were hard. Give them to her. She was made of stone or rock, like they called her. She’d go in and smooth everything over. The thing was, even with all this respect, she wasn’t really well received in the office. Even had a nickname she didn’t care for. It was easier to hide in sterile rooms with strangers, easier to show sympathy for people she didn’t know or would most likely never see again.

  And she never cried—ever. You had to find a way to detach or it all went to hell. Just get her into the OR and she went to work. Get the needed consent and get the organs to their destined new homes. It was hard explaining what brain death meant to loved ones, who saw something different. She learned over time how to speak to the families and treat them like they were hers. Every time.

  Mallory would then head back to the office with the packed organs if they weren’t already on a plane going to the recipients, and finish up the tedious paperwork with tired eyes. She was lucky if she was even asked how her day was or asked to join in for drinks down the street by the other coordinators. She worked and slept…and rode her mower to cut the ten acres of land. That was her only connection to the sun and nature.

  Hard work never killed anyone. Gaining consent from a resistant family member was a challenge she conquered with pride. With each donor case, she grew stronger but more isolated in her protected world. Tended to the families and moved on. No victim mentality in her mind. Nope. Loved her life and job…and did it well. It was all good.

  There was only one other surgical coordinator who had been compared to her, but she forgave him for that. He tended to stay away from her and she him. Went out of his way to steer clear of Mallory. Only when he was leaving a case as she was coming in would they cross paths, and barely that. Oh, and at those godawful mandatory meetings every fricking Wednesday. It was mutual. Respect with a dash of hate. A nice recipe for a productive working environment.

  The only thing that glued them together was he trained her three years ago, and she owed her career to him. Owed the knowledge he taught her, but the rest was all her. All skill. A gifted skill that came from a higher place. She wasn’t giving that to anyone, especially him.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror and lifting her sunglasses, she shook her head at the purple bags under her eyes. No concealer could hide those. If it weren’t for riding that darned mower, she’d have no color at all. Shrugging, she parked in the garage and rolled her cart out of the trunk—her natural workout for the day. Strolling into the reception area, she flashed her ID at the front desk before she lugged her cart toward the patient’s room in the ICU.

  A frantic voice greeted her. “Mallory, can you help get her off him? We don’t know what to do,” one of the coordinators on the case said, standing outside the patient’s door. “We’re running out of time.”

  With a heavy sigh, she moved past the nervous coordinator and into t
he room. And what she saw was part of her normal day. The young woman’s small body sobbed against her husband’s, her dark head against his stilled chest—the rope burns raw on his throat. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

  The younger woman peered up at her. With her tear-soaked face and dark hair dampened against her cheek, she wanted answers she could not possibly get. The young widow stuttered her words. “Thank you. And, please…it’s Lisa. Are you a doctor?”

  She smiled. “No. I’m the recovery coordinator who’ll be taking care of your husband in the OR.” And now with the speech. “With his generous gift, he’ll be helping a lot of people to live a better life. Now, I know you’d rather him be here and not need to do that, but your consent is a blessing, Lisa. A true blessing.” She walked over to her and gave Lisa her best sympathetic smile.

  Lisa glanced back at her husband. “He was a good man. I thought he was getting better.” She took a shaky breath. “You see, I’m pregnant and never got to tell him. Now I’m on my own. I’m not getting any younger, but this baby will change everything. I never thought I’d be a single mom. I’m so scared…”

  Mallory froze in the middle of checking the monitor.

  “Are…are you okay?”

  Exhaling and allowing her shoulders to drop, she nodded. She’d never be okay. But who really ever was? She needed something…water maybe. “I’ll be right back. We’ll be bringing Ricky to the OR soon. I just need a moment.”

  The young woman stood and grabbed Mallory’s hands. “I just want to thank you for helping my husband continue on. He’d like to know that in some strange way he was important to this world.” She glanced up to fight the tears. “He didn’t believe he was. Thank you.”

  She let the pregnant widow hold her stiff hands briefly before pasting on her Mallory McShane smile. “Even if you don’t see it now, that baby will go on for him, giving him a legacy he never knew he had. Sometimes doing the hardest thing is the right thing,” she said with a curt smile and slow nod.

  Something bright flickered in Lisa’s hazel eyes. “I needed to hear that. Thank you.”

  “We’ll see you in the waiting room when we’re all done.” The room closed in on her, and she needed to get out fast. Practically running to the nearest restroom, she crashed into a big wall of a man from behind. He turned around and who else but Gallagher himself. Lawson “Wolf” Gallagher. She needed to banish him from her thoughts, because every time she gave him a fraction of her mind, she ran into him—literally.

  “Whoa there, McShane. What’s the hurry? Can’t wait to get in there and start cutting?” he said with that smugness she’d like to shove down his throat. The guy was in love with himself.

  A screaming woman was rushed to the emergency room on a gurney, blood spurting from a head wound.

  Mallory jumped out of the way along with Gallagher. “Do I look like I’m running to the OR? No…I’m going to the restroom. Sorry I didn’t see you, but you came out of nowhere.” She tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t budge. The guy was an amazon.

  His glass blue eyes pierced through her with feigned concern. “You okay? You seem not yourself—almost girly.” He flashed a grin, touching her shoulder. “Something’s shaken you up.” He narrowed his gaze as if trying to read her.

  Shaking his hand off, she said, “I’m fine. Now will you move or do I need to push you?” Losing her patience now. She didn’t need this.

  He laughed. “Now, there’s the Mallory I know and love. Had me scared for a second.” Bowing down and waving his hand, he said, “You may go.” Still in his blue scrubs and cap over his dark hair, looking like a true surgeon.

  At his gesture, Mallory moved past him, giving him a side glance. His deep laughter followed her down the hall and into the ladies’ room. She slipped into a stall and closed the door. Sitting on the toilet, she cradled her face inside her hands and exhaled. “Get it together, McShane. You’ve had plenty of cases involving this sort of thing. Why be bothered now?”

  After she stepped out of the stall, she looked both ways to be sure she was alone. She walked to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Dried her face and hands and then headed to the OR and to recover Ricky’s organs, leaving her emotional mask behind.

  ***

  Hard rock music played in the background of the sterile OR as the recovery team flitted around. Anesthesia checked the monitor to be sure the patient was stable. The scrub nurse ready to hand Mallory any instruments she needed. And, David, the new trainee…well, for the last month, waited for his instructions.

  She turned to him. “Set the back tables for the abdominal, heart, and lungs,” she said, jutting her head to the three separate tables with blue drapes.

  “Got it.”

  Anesthesia gave the go-ahead. “All clear.”

  Scratching her masked face with her elbow, she then opened Ricky’s chest with a sternal saw. David returned to her side to study her. He gasped at the sight of her gloved hand inside to grab ahold of the heart. As she concentrated, she said, “Is there enough preservative solution?”

  In a breathy voice, he said, “Yes.” A gray cast covered his face.

  She gave him a side glance, shaking her head. “I thought you were a nurse.” Incompetency was her pet peeve. Ask anyone she’d ever trained.

  He stuttered and said, “I am, but I just never saw this so up close. I’ll be okay—just need to get used to it.”

  Mallory clenched her jaw under her mask and returned to her new friend, Ricky. She cleared her throat. “Can you turn up the music, please?” she asked one of the nurses.

  “How do you focus with rock music playing?” the incompetent trainee asked.

  “How do you put your pants on in the morning? Your brain just knows what to do, right? Rock music does that for my brain, and my hands just know what to do. Now I need you to assist me and stop with the silly questions.” She glared at him without blinking.

  His incompetent eyes widened to her injurious words. The team snickered under their masks—crinkled eyes and soft chuckles. They knew Mallory well. Mallory “ice” McShane was her well-deserved name.

  As she looked over the drape at Ricky’s ashen face, she tried to picture him happier and at peace. The thought made her shiver as she combed the ceiling and around the room, always wondering if the spirits inhabited her space. But she only saw the scrub nurses, the nervous coordinator, the quiet anesthesiologist, trays of shiny surgical instruments, and Ricky…a father without even knowing it.

  David stood ready with the ice to pack the chest cavity—an act that impressed her. Okay, so the guy wasn’t that incompetent, but he had gotten on her last nerve today with his weak demeanor. Gallagher would hear about this since David was referred by him.

  After transferring the organs to the back tables, he then placed them in bags and then into the ice-filled coolers.

  With numb hands from holding them in the ice-filled body, she closed the patient and left David to clean up. “You can finish the paperwork at the office and bring the organs back with you. Please make sure you label them correctly—a mistake we just can’t afford.” She headed towards the door.

  “I’ve only done it a few times. What if I mess up?”

  “That’s your problem then, isn’t it? Don’t mess up, especially in my OR.” She stared into his widened eyes.

  The nurses ran around him, cleaning up what they could after Mallory nodded at them. “Thanks, guys.”

  “Good work, Mallory, as always,” they said.

  As she stepped out into the warmer corridor outside of the sterile suite, she saw him. The man she wanted to strangle. “Hey, Gallagher,” she said, loud enough to snap his head her way, dressed and ready to leave with his bag over his shoulder. Mallory pulled her mask off and strode towards him.

  He stopped and waited as she approached, staring her down with those blue eyes. “Yeah, McShane? What now? I have a date, so…” He waved his hand in the air.

  “I don’t give a shit if
you’re getting married today. David? I thought you said he was the best?” With hands on her hips, she scowled up into his sort of handsome face if you liked the scruffy type.

  He had the balls to laugh at her…again. “He is. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before. Something’s definitely changed today. We must do lunch so you can spill it all.”

  Squinting, she pressed her lips together. Damn, he was right. She didn’t usually swear. How the hell did he know that? “Well, your boy was mighty nervous in that OR today. You know that can’t happen, Gallagher. If anything goes wrong with those organs, it’s on us, the preceptors. You and me. Get it? Not him. Us. We represent that whole organization. Just talk to him, will ya?”

  Gallagher laughed as he stood there in his snug designer jeans, white dress shirt tucked in, smelling of some wood and spice cologne, and wearing a brown leather jacket, and a dust of hair growth covering his strong jawline.

  “You need a shave, Gallagher,” she said, before she turned around to get out of her scrubs.

  Again, a low chuckle. “Thanks, but Tina likes me like this—says it tickles.”

  Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she kept walking. Tina—one of the millions he dated—a victim of the wolf. Poor girl.

  “Maybe if you let your hair down and out of that tight bun, things might not feel so…tight,” he said, and then that dreadful laugh. The guy loved himself.

  “Okay, Wolf. Tickle away.” She couldn’t let him have the last word. “Jerk,” she whispered.

  Deep laughter grew louder and echoed as he left the floor.

  After she entered the nurses’ locker room, she let out a long breath. She nodded to a few who were changing shifts, same purple bags under their eyes.

  “Good work, Mallory. You gave it to that nube real good,” a pretty nurse named Sonia said. She was known to have dated Gallagher on and off. Who hadn’t?