Chapter 10 Tasha
ten
tasha
The worst part wasn't the words themselves.
I'd heard worse. Growing up as one of the few Black girls in honors classes, working my way through nursing school, even here at Metro General—racist assholes were nothing new.
You developed thick skin, learned to document everything, kept your face neutral while you fantasized about creative ways to make their IV insertions especially memorable.
No, the worst part was the look on Nate's face afterward.
I'd seen him handle every kind of chaos the ER could throw at us.
Code Blues where he moved with surgical precision.
Trauma cases that would make seasoned doctors flinch.
Difficult families, belligerent drunks, the woman last month who'd thrown her bedpan at Dr. Ward's head.
Through it all, Nathan Crawford remained the same: calm, controlled, professionally competent.
I'd never seen him lose it. Not once.
Until today.
"You okay?" Sophia appeared at my elbow as I finished charting the racist asshole's discharge. Her voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the concern underneath.
"I'm fine," I said automatically, not looking up from the computer screen.
"Tasha."
Something in her tone made me glance over. Sophia's expression was gentle but direct—the look she got when she was about to have one of those conversations that made everyone uncomfortable but needed to happen anyway.
"Really, I'm okay," I said, meaning it mostly. "It's not like it's the first time some ignorant piece of shit has—"
"I'm not asking about him," Sophia interrupted softly. "I'm asking about you. About what just happened with Nate."
Right. Because Nate Crawford, model of professional restraint, had just screamed at a patient to get the fuck out of his emergency department.
And then I'd had to watch Sophia march him out of the bay like a misbehaving toddler, while he stood there looking ashamed and furious and something else I couldn't quite name.
"I didn't ask him to do that," I said quickly.
"I know you didn't." Sophia's voice was matter-of-fact. "But he did it anyway. That had to be... complicated."
Complicated. That was one word for it.
On one hand, yeah, it was gratifying to see someone stand up for me. To see that patient's smug expression crumble when six feet of pissed-off Navy veteran told him exactly where he could shove his bigotry. For about thirty seconds, I'd felt protected in a way I'd never experienced before.
But then reality kicked in. I couldn't get away with what Nate had just done.
If I'd lost control like that, if I'd screamed at a patient—even a racist piece of shit—I'd be facing suspension, possibly termination.
The investigation would focus on my "unprofessional behavior," not the patient's hate speech. That was just how it worked.
"It was," I admitted finally.
Sophia nodded, not pushing for more details. Which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was a well-meaning white woman trying to explain racism to me or telling me how I should feel about what had happened.
"If you need anything," she said instead, "resources, someone to talk to, time off to process—just let me know. Okay?"
"Okay."
She squeezed my shoulder briefly and moved on to deal with the next crisis, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a half-finished discharge summary.
I tried to focus on my charting, but my mind kept drifting back to Nate's face. The way his jaw had tightened when he'd heard that word. The cold fury in his voice when he'd ordered the patient out. The strange, almost vulnerable look he'd given me before Sophia had dragged him away.
Nathan Crawford had just risked his job for me. His spotless professional record, his ability to provide for Paige—he'd put all of it on the line because some asshole had disrespected me.
I wasn't sure what to do with that.
The rest of my shift passed in a blur of routine cases and careful normalcy.
A few of my coworkers asked if I was okay, offering the kind of surface-level sympathy that let them feel good about themselves without actually engaging with the ugliness of what had happened.
I smiled and nodded and told them I was fine, because that was easier than trying to explain the complicated knot of emotions sitting heavy in my chest.
By the time I clocked out, I still hadn't seen Nate. Word was he'd been sent home for the day, which meant he was probably sitting in his perfectly organized house, beating himself up for losing control and worrying about the write-up Sophia would have to file.
The thought bothered me more than it should have.
* * *
I spent the next two days watching Nate from across the ER, trying to figure out how I felt about what had happened.
He was back to his usual self—calm, competent, professional.
If anything, he seemed more controlled than before, like he was overcompensating for his moment of explosive anger.
He was polite when our paths crossed, nodded when I made suggestions about patient care, treated me exactly the same as he treated every other nurse.
But there were moments when I caught him looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something careful and searching, like he was trying to gauge my reaction to him, to what he'd done.
It should have been awkward. It should have made things weird between us.
Instead, I found myself thinking about the night Paige had her period emergency.
The way he'd trusted me with his daughter, the most precious thing in his world.
The gratitude in his eyes when I'd helped them through that crisis.
The careful way he'd asked if I'd be willing to stay in Paige's life, to be someone she could turn to when she needed a woman's perspective.
Nathan Crawford didn't trust easily. I'd figured that out months ago. But when he did trust someone, when he let them into his carefully constructed world, he defended them with everything he had.
Even when it cost him.
Thursday afternoon, I made my decision.
"Sophia," I said, catching her between patient rooms. "Remember what you said the other day? About if I needed anything?"
She looked up from her tablet, immediately alert. "Of course. What can I do?"
"I could use something, if you think it'll work." I took a breath, feeling suddenly nervous. "Does your daughter babysit?"
Sophia's eyebrows rose slightly. "Madison? Sometimes. For family friends. Why?"
"I want to ask Nate out. Properly. But he'll never leave Paige with just anyone, and I don't want him worrying about her the whole time." I paused, then added, "I figured if it was your daughter, someone he knows and trusts..."
A slow smile spread across Sophia's face. "I think that could be arranged. Madison would love to hang out with Paige."
"You think she'd be up for it?"
"Are you kidding? She's been bored out of her mind this week. A night playing big sister to an eleven-year-old sounds like exactly the kind of responsibility she'd eat up." Sophia's smile turned slightly mischievous. "Should I ask what you have planned?"
"Nothing too scandalous," I said, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck. "Just... dinner. Maybe dancing."
"Mmmhmm." Sophia's expression was knowing, but she didn't push. "I'll talk to Madison tonight. When were you thinking?"
"Tomorrow? If that works for everyone."
"I'll text Madison right now to ask," Sophia promised. "But Tasha? Good for you. He's a good man. He deserves someone who sees that."
As I walked away, I felt something settle in my chest. A sense of rightness, like I was finally doing something I should have done weeks ago.
Nathan Crawford had stood up for me when it mattered. Now it was my turn to show him that some risks were worth taking.