Caden Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 18) Read online

  CADEN COCKER

  COCKER BROTHERS BOOK 18

  FALEENA HOPKINS

  CONTENTS

  CADEN COCKER - Book 18

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Cocker EXTRAS

  About the Author

  CADEN COCKER - BOOK 18

  "I've been following this series for over a year now, and guys, it only gets better. This book is incredible and everyone should read it. I will not patiently wait for another book from this author."

  - eReader26

  Tears come from the heart and not from the brain.

  LEONARDO DA VINCI

  CHAPTER 1

  C ADEN

  “He’s coding!” I shout to my nemesis, fellow second-year resident, Dr. Janet Gilroy.

  As Nurse Sharon administers adrenaline, I rip his gown open and plant the defibrillator pads on his right pectoral muscle and lower left ribcage.

  Emotionless eyes are fixed on the AED machine as Janet says, “Charged.”

  Dr. Myers, the attending trauma surgeon we answer to, rushes in and watches us work. I’m doing everything right, but if I weren’t, she’d take over.

  Only trouble is that this guy doesn’t want to be on Earth anymore and after five minutes of no response, no pulse, no hope, Myers shakes her head. “He’s gone, Dr. Cocker. Call it.”

  Panting and stubborn, I bark, “Not yet!”

  “Charged.”

  I really admired this guy. “C’mon, Patterson!”

  The stories Bill told me about his forty-seven years of marriage to one woman he met when he was thirty-three. How they never had kids because they wanted to travel the world and learn everything they could about the countless cultures that exist. How she passed five years ago, and he keeps traveling because he believes her spirit still comes along, and he wants to keep her entertained.

  It’s so hard to give up on him.

  But he has other plans.

  On an exhale, I finally glance to my watch. “Time of death, 12:34 A.M.”

  Myers pats my shoulder, which is uncommon for her. She’s such a rock. “You gave it your all, Cocker,” she reassures me and walks out of the room.

  Janet locks eyes with me before her over–achieving, comfortable heels march out.

  Sharon whispers, “Sorry, Caden.”

  “Give me a second with him.” I pull the AED pads off and cover his chest with a blanket.

  She slips out of the room.

  “Hey Bill…I hope you guys travel with wings now.”

  Feeling heavier, I rejoin the chaos of an extended shift where I will continue to give my all. This is a part of being a doctor, I know that. I’m prepared to deal with the emotional connection I have with patients. It helps me fight for them. Never will I see them as a number.

  I don’t know where Janet is, but I’ve no doubt that wherever she is, that woman is conniving ways to make my life a living hell.

  Within seconds Dr. Dev Mangal, also a second-year resident, appears at my side, keeping pace up the corridor. He’s not a trauma surgeon like Janet and I opted to become. He decided upon the life of a general surgeon, one who removes gall bladders, appendixes, etc. More scheduled-visits-peacefulness, less urgent holy-shit-drama that my nemesis and I thrive on.

  Under stark fluorescent lighting, Dev excitedly says, “Caden, we’re starting a baseball league! Want in?”

  As I dodge a nurse hustling in the opposite direction, I mutter an instinctual, “Absolutely. When do we start?”

  “After midnight.”

  “Tonight?”

  He grins, “Is there a better time?”

  We look over at a nurse’s station and discover Janet Gilroy there with her head down.

  I rush to check out what the fuck she’s writing. Immediately furious, I point at the form and demand, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Writing my report on the patient’s death. What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “My job!”

  The bitch winks at me. “Well, you weren’t here to do it. Someone had to.”

  “You have gotta be kidding me!”

  Dev tells her, “Again, Janet? We are not inviting you into the league.”

  Janet tilts her annoying face, voice flat as always. “What league?”

  Reaching over the counter, I grab the filled-out paperwork and crumple it in one hand, thinking of all the names I’d love to call her but can’t without being kicked out of the program. Or at the very least suspended with a blemish on my reputation that my ambition cannot afford.

  “You ran out of that room to beat me to this paperwork. I was taking a moment to say goodbye to the dead, wish him well! You know I do that!”

  Her stare is crystallized. “We have had this conversation, Caden. The guy is gone. You don’t have to say goodbye to him. He's not hovering in the ethers hoping you’ll wish him well, as you so basically put it.” Reaching for another form, she whips one out and slides the drawer shut with aggravating slowness. “What did you really say to him? ‘Why’d you make me look bad by dying on me?’”

  This new form crunches in my fist just like the last. “Get out of the chair, Janet.”

  Walking around the counter, I yank open the drawer and dig out a replacement for myself while snatching the pen from her reptilian fingers.

  Hunched over, I fill out the patient’s demographics from scratch while growling, “William Dwayne Patterson has been under my watch, and neither he nor I need your icy heart putting a button on his final day. Take a hike!”

  Janet rises from her borrowed swivel chair with the speed of a snake that just ate. She slinks off to look for new ways to bust my nuts.

  Dev leans over the counter while I write. “I mean it, she is not invited.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’m out.”

  “What?! We need you on this thing, man! It won’t be fun without you.”

  From under my battered brow I look at him. “You’ve seen what she’s doing, Dev. My family is in Atlanta. I can’t get assigned to Denver, or Chicago, or Utah, or California, or wherever the fuck they would have me go if she wins a permanent position over me. This is where I belong. And if that means I have to skip baseball after midnight, as much fun as that sounds, then I’m sorry but count me out. This is where I need to be twenty-four-seven until they kick my ass out of here.” Glancing back to the paper, I write his cause of death: Cardiac Arrest. “End-of-shift out of here, not flying-somewhere
-else-forever out of here, away from everyone I care about—”

  “I get it. I get it.” Dev taps the counter and heads off. “I wish I had a family like yours.”

  Staring after him I feel my pulse raging.

  I’ll find a way to get back at Dr. Janet Gilroy.

  Don’t know how it’ll come about.

  But I can’t wait to find out.

  CHAPTER 2

  C ADEN

  A fter seventy-two hours, my attending finds me on the Oncology floor in the room of a patient that isn’t mine in a section of the hospital where I am also not supposed to be.

  “Why do I have to keep dealing with this….” Dr. Myers pauses so as not to swear in front of a witness. “…stuff?!”

  She didn’t mean to even ask me that in front of the twenty-four-year-old who is suffering from osteosarcoma, a form of bone cancer.

  Myers is tired of my boundary-pushing. I can’t blame her…except I do.

  Turning back around, I smile, “Cilla, is there anything else we can do to make you more comfortable today?”

  Her gaze flits to Myers, before settling on me. Nobody likes to be scolded. Quietly she answers, “The chocolates are more than enough to make me happy, Dr. Cocker.”

  I open the gift I brought her, pick one tasty square out, throw it and catch it in my mouth. “Mmm. Caramels are my favorite. My mom’s, too.”

  Cilla’s tired eyes dance. “I love them, too! But…cherry-filled are my favorite.”

  “No way! Gross!”

  She laughs, “They’re the best ones!”

  “They’re nasty!”

  “You don’t know anything!”

  “Next time I’ll have to bring cherry. And they’ll be safe from me. You can have ‘em!”

  Myers clears her throat and I glance over my shoulder to gauge her temperament. From her calm expression, I don’t think she meant that as a signal—probably an unconscious reaction at processing the scene.

  Heading for the door, I reassure Cilla, “I’ll come check on you again soon.”

  “Thank you!”

  I motion for Myers to go first, a gesture of chivalry. She shakes her head, dark ponytail pulled tight and low. I shrug, chuckling under my breath as I pass her. The door closes and I wait in the corridor knowing I’m about to get a dramatic tongue-lashing, and not the kind I’d like.

  Dr. Elizabeth Myers is a force. Only two years older than I am, she’s years ahead of me in the field because she graduated at sixteen and was on the Med School track. For me that choice took time.

  Lowering her chin, Myers stares at me from beneath befuddled eyebrows. “You’re making this very hard, Cocker.”

  “What did you think I was doing?”

  “Working past your legal hours. But you already know that.” Stuffing her fingers into the deep pockets of her white physician’s coat, Myers gazes into the distance as she considers what to do with me. “Why are you up here?”

  I scratch my chin, drop my hand. “Not sure I understand the question.”

  Exasperated, she reminds me, “These patients aren’t yours. Oncology isn’t even your department! It’s infuriating. Can you not just go home when you’re supposed to?! Is it really that hard to follow the rules? I am so tired of this!”

  Crossing my arms, I glare at her, “Like I said, doing my job.”

  She tilts her head. “And what do you think that is, exactly?”

  “Taking care of patients. Helping people. Saving lives whenever I can. And when I can’t, making them as comfortable as possible for as long as they’re in this shit-hole. Now don’t give me that look. I love it here and so do you. But to these people it’s the last place they want to be. Don’t you know that? Or have you forgotten what it’s like to be on the other side of that clipboard?”

  Her nostrils flare. “What makes you think it’s okay to talk to me like that?!”

  “Because you’re a grown woman who can handle honesty! And if you’re referring to the cuss word, give it a rest. On more than one occasion I’ve heard you swearing like a sailor with a stubbed toe.”

  “Go home, Cocker!” She passes me, making it clear we are finished with our conversation.

  I smirk, “Why don’t you come with me?”

  Walking backwards, she warns, “If I hear that you’re on any floor in this hospital again in the next twenty-four hours, you won’t return.”

  Staring until she’s gone, I consider whether or not I should actually obey this order. She’s given it before and I’ve ignored it. I need to show them I’m meant to be here. This is my life. I’m better than Janet. I can stay up for days fueled by my sense of purpose alone.

  But she looked pretty pissed.

  Underlying her aggravation, however…did I see pride staring back at me? Can’t be sure. What I do reflects on her, and it is possible she appreciated my chocolates.

  Huffing and confused, I look around the Oncology floor, lock eyes with a male nurse named Ray who’s watching me from behind his counter, a floating head.

  “What’re you looking at?”

  “Someone stupid,” he chuckles. “Your eyes are red. Get some rest.”

  “You give it a rest!”

  “You missed a good baseball game.”

  “Yeah yeah.” Checking my watch, I imagine him with Dev and all the others on a baseball diamond under what turned out to be a warm, southern night. The image makes me grumble as I walk to the elevator, “Gotta make sacrifices if you want to achieve greatness.”

  A well-used call button gets a quick jab.

  I look up.

  It’s on the seventh floor.

  Construction is up there.

  Total renovation.

  This place is going to be even better.

  And I love how it already is.

  Imagine improving on perfection.

  There are a billion ways I could be spending my time right now, but I can only think of one that thrills me: being a surgeon.

  Finally on the ground floor I watch the doors whoosh open and with each step that takes me away from it, my feet feel heavy like my bed is calling me, and inside that fortress I wasn’t able to hear it.

  Pulling out my phone, I dial my older brother. “Yo Max, guess what? I think I might’ve just impressed Dr. Myers. Maybe. Not sure. But there’s a chance.”

  “The one who favors Janet?”

  “Your voice is thick. I wake you?”

  “No, I’m looking at the rough edit of my film. I submitted to Sundance today.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “Haven’t got accepted, hold that thought for when I do.”

  “I thought you sent it off.”

  “You can submit a rough cut and tell them the changes you want to make. They’re experienced enough to know what will work, and judge from there. It’s like going into a home knowing that before you buy it they’ll paint it white or whatever, so you picture the potential and decide if it’s a go. There’s a scene I don’t love. I think I’m too close to it now to see it from its true perspective.”

  As my old Toyota comes to life, I smirk, “I’d tell you to get some sleep, but I’m no hypocrite.”

  Max chuckles. “You at the hospital?”

  “Just left and now I’m navigating the parking lot with my vision starting to blur.”

  He gets serious. “If you’re too tired to drive—”

  “Okay Mom.’”

  “Call me that again, and you’ll regret it.”

  Wheels speed toward Inman Park where my one bedroom shack awaits. It’s a rental, but it’s my rental. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

  “Dick. What’d you do that impressed your attending?”

  My engine lurches and I frown at the hood. “It wasn’t done on purpose, I can tell you that.”

  “Wait…what? You’re constantly trying to impress her. How did you accidentally do it? This I gotta hear.”

  Max is my best friend and I can tell him anything, but this story has got me hesitating for perso
nal integrity reasons. I didn’t bring chocolates to Cilla or any of the others in order to get accolades or appear noble.

  That would make it disingenuous.

  I thought nobody would find out.

  I guess that was foolish. Myers doesn’t miss much. But since I was on a different floor than those she patrols, it never dawned on me that I might be face-to-face with her, caught in the act.

  “Caden?”

  “Here. Didn't fall asleep.”

  “Don’t fucking scare me like that.”

  I fall silent.

  Max dryly mutters, “Funny.”

  “Something’s wrong with my car. It’s lurching.”

  “Call Triple-A.”

  “Tomorrow. What’s the news on Brad?”

  “I’m fucking beat. Last thing I want to do is worry about Lexi and that invisible jerk.” After a pause, his voice is charged with fresh irritation. “I want to see what this guy looks like. Because if she’s this hung up on him, hiding him from us, getting Samantha to lie about him, he must be the hottest guy in the city.”

  “Right?” I snort, driving east on Ponce—technically called Ponce de Leon Avenue, but no real Atlantans call it that. “We should tail her one night soon when she leaves her place. She lost me last time.”

  “When exactly are we supposed to do that?”

  “I might do it.”

  “You’re not going to tell me how you impressed your attending, are you?”

  “It’s not important. But this time, when she yelled at me to go home, I could tell she thought I was a good guy.”

  “Then she must have been sucking one of those morphine drips, because—”

  “—Shut it,” I laugh.

  “Seriously, my brother is a dick.”

  “Yeah, Hunter needs work. But this brother? One stellar human being.”

  Max laughs. “Listen, I’ve got maybe an hour left in me to dedicate to this, so I’m gonna let you go. You home?”

  I ask, “You psychic?” jumping out of the dying Toyota and strolling over uncut grass that should make me feel guilty but doesn’t.

  “I’ve kept you company on many drives back home from the hospital, Caden. I know how long it takes. And that it should take longer. Don’t know how you’ve managed no speeding tickets.”