Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Now
Emmy
“Milk and bread,” Lilah called from her bedroom while I typed the list into my phone.
It was my turn to pick up groceries on my way home after my shift.
“Anything else?” I called back.
“Nope.”
I added a few things I thought of to the list and heard her walk down the hall to join me in the kitchen. She was ready to head out, just needing her jacket and hat, which hung in the front entry.
It always felt weird hugging her goodbye with her body armor on, but at least she was wearing it.
I always freaked out on the days she didn’t, like if she was going to the station to work, or to testifying in court and really didn’t need it. She’d take it with her in case a situation arose, which helped settle my nerves.
Barely.
But closing in on thirty-one she hadn’t got herself shot yet, thankfully.
I don’t know if she’d had calls closer than the ones she admitted, but she was well-liked among her co-workers, had been promoted twice, and frequently traveled to law enforcement seminars in other parts of the country to learn more techniques.
Then there was the fact that, yes, she seemed happier since starting the job than she ever had since I’d known her. She got to help people, which wasn’t just something she did but something that seemed ingrained in her DNA. Just like me, but in a different way.
“Are you going out with Joe tonight or is he coming over?” she asked on her way to the front door.
I snorted. “No. Joe’s gone.”
She stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned, scowling. “Since when?”
“Since dinner the night before last.”
“And I’m just now finding out about it?”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “We haven’t had a chance to really talk since then.”
She returned to the kitchen. “That was fast. What happened?”
“Well, he planned on a houseful of kids. According to him, considering I’m almost thirty it means we needed to get started with that sooner rather than later.
Also, that I should forget about my career once he knocked me up, because he wanted me to be a stay-at-home mom.
Oh, and I should add apparently that was his version of a proposal.
I told him it was a vagina not a clown car, paid my half of the check, wished him a good life, and walked out. Thank god I drove myself.”
Lilah brayed with laughter. “The boot?”
“The boot,” I agreed. That was our shorthand for I dumped the asshole.
“Well, too bad,” she said. “I thought maybe he’d stick around. He lasted, what, four weeks?” She paused. “Wait. He proposed after only four weeks?”
“Yup. Sorry, but that spinal implant you gave me when we were kids took hold quite nicely, thank you very much.”
Lilah grinned and leaned in for one last hug. “Good on ya. I’ll text you. Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too.”
We never parted ways without saying it. I knew a few people suspected there was something romantic between us but there wasn’t. We were sisters in every way, the only family we had besides the Franceses, and they were both, unfortunately, in their graves now.
By the time I locked the front door and made it to my SUV, Lilah’s marked SUV had already disappeared down the road, and I cranked the music for my drive to the hospital.
How sad was it that I wasn’t even upset to tell Joe to go fuck himself?
Lilah sometimes dated, as did I, but nothing ever… took.
Except for Joe they’d all been nice guys—and Joe had put up a good front about being a nice guy—but none of them were…
Yeah.
They weren’t what either of us wanted, that magical unicorn mix of a sensitive, strong, patient man who lovingly dominated.
Not domineered.
Sure it was daddy issues. I’d own that. It wasn’t difficult to admit, on my part anyway. We grew up without safety until we’d stumbled into the Franceses’ garage and finally had a safe landing and launching pad to regroup on.
Neither of us had a great start in life, unable to trust anyone else until nearly the end of our childhoods.
Frankly, I was too busy working to hold the hand of a fragile man-child who wanted a mommy—in the non-kinky way, I mean—and who wanted a woman to cater to his every whim.
Again, I don’t mean in the kinky kind of way. I mean a guy whose masculinity was so fragile that it’d shatter in a stiff breeze.
So far, I hadn’t found a guy like that. Life was too short to settle.
Also, I didn’t want kids. As in, I planned to get my tubes tied once I could find a couple of open weeks in my schedule to make time to do it and have a mini vacay on the other side. I know that’s ironic considering I love kids and love working with them.
I just don’t want any of my own.
Full stop.
Lilah felt ambivalent about kids. She also didn’t hate them, and loved doing presentations at schools, but her biological clock wasn’t ticking.
At all.
After arriving at work, my day proceeded with nearly uncanny ease until about an hour before my shift was due to end at 7:00pm, when an all-hands page for a code white went out and I raced down to Emergency.
The on-call in charge of the ED called for attention.
“School bus was run off the road by a semi that blew a front tire and cut in front of them. Approximately thirty kids, ranging in age from ten to thirteen or so.” He spotted me.
“Em, I don’t know what injuries we’ll have, but stay in close contact with triage. We’ll have all the ORs ready.”
My pulse raced as I nodded. I’d seen some shit already but nothing like this, and especially not involving children.
Some were being air-lifted here, some driven over land. Both drivers died but the range of injuries in the children ranged from critical to minor, none of them dead.
Yet.
The majority of my cases were pediatric but there were times I was the only neurosurgeon in the building when an emergency arrived and I dealt with it.
I was helping with triage when a familiar SUV with Montana Fire, Wildlife and Parks markings rolled into the ambulance bay.
I grabbed a gurney and raced out as Lilah lifted a little girl out of the backseat.
The girl was sobbing, and her right leg had been bleeding before someone wrapped it, but I didn’t see horrible injuries on her and set her in a wheelchair a nurse had raced out with.
“Triage,” I said, and they quickly wheeled her inside.
The little boy in the backseat with the girl was cradling his right arm and had a gash on his head that someone had quickly wrapped with gauze.
I checked his pupils. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Bobby,” he said.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“That stupid truck wrecked us.” The anger in his tone boded well, to me.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven next month.”
“How hard did you hit your head when the bus wrecked?”
“I didn’t. I was wearing a seat belt. I did this getting out after the wreck because I tripped. That’s when I hurt my arm, too.”
Okay, he likely didn’t have a concussion, so I loaded him on the gurney and sent him inside as yet another MFWP SUV rolled in, almost immediately followed by an ambulance. I didn’t even have time to talk to Lilah because she raced back out again and I was dealing with patients.
Ten hours later, I was dead on my feet but only one of the kids had died, and they’d had underlying medical issues contributing to that. Four more were critical but stable, and over half of them had already been released to their parents, the rest staying overnight for observation.
I was afraid to sit down for fear I wouldn’t be able to stand up again when Lilah walked into the staff lounge just off the ED with a box of donuts and another box of bagels and fixings, plus a large box of coffee.
“A gift from Paul’s Coffeeshop,” she said as she set them down before she walked over to hug me. “You didn’t go shopping, by the way.”
But the way she said it, and the playful look in her hazel eyes, was just the thing I needed to start laughing as she held me, rocking me.
“Can you go home yet?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I need to go upstairs and check on a couple of patients. What time is it, anyway?”
She glanced at her watch. “Over twenty-four hours since you made the damned shopping list, Doctor Colefield.”
I snorted again. “Sorry, Officer McGuire.”
This was our routine, a stress-relieving comfort, assuring each other.
Snarky meant okay and not dying.
As okay as one could be after dealing with a mass-casualty incident involving kids, although I knew Lilah had dealt with far worse since she’d been one of the first responders to the scene.
“Well, I’ll forgive you this time,” she said. “Text me the list and I’ll do it. Oh, and we have a guest for dinner.”
“We do?”
“Yes. For you, not me.” She smirked. “He’s got a thing for doctors. Try to take a nap. He’ll be over at 8:00, and I’m cooking.”
I blinked, stunned as she sauntered out. If she’d invited him over for dinner, she must have a strong positive feeling about him, because she rarely did that.
Hell, we rarely had anyone but close friends over to the house. Neither of us felt comfortable with people in our personal space whom we didn’t know very well.
Well, shit.
Jack
“How you doing, Hesten?” the captain asked.
I sat on a bench in our station’s locker room and stared up at him. “Had better shifts.”
He looked grim. “I’ve already arranged seventy-two off for you.”
“But—”
“No,” he said. “We can spare you.”
“I don’t need to ‘talk to someone’,” I protested. “I’ve seen a lot worse, you know.”
“I know you have but you’ve been on four days straight and I didn’t realize it.
You’re supposed to clear shift swaps through me first, remember?
Seems like I chewed you out about this before.
Besides, didn’t I see you talking to Officer McGuire?
Maybe it’s time for you to have a social life. I hear she’s single.”