Chapter 8 #2
Holly caught the tiny shift in Luke’s shoulders, the almost imperceptible sag of relief. Damian wasn’t out of danger, but he wasn’t gone. Not yet.
The nurse continued, softer now, “Dr. Hartman would like to speak with you, Gage, in a little while. You may have to make some decisions, depending on how things go.”
Gage nodded while Luke clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides.
The nurse turned to Holly. “Are you Dr. Holly Westfield?”
Holly moved next to Luke. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but she could smell his masculine scent of pine trees and smoke. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I heard you were at the scene. Thank you for what you did.” The nurse’s voice shifted into something warmer, more official. “Dr. Hartman asked me to let you know we’re grateful. He’d also like a word. If you’ll follow me?”
Luke's hand brushed Holly's. It felt like a thank-you he couldn't say out loud right now.
As she followed the nurse through the double doors, she touched her cheek, the same place where Luke’s thumb had caressed. In that moment, she realized if they hadn’t stopped all those hours earlier to eat banana pudding on a bench overlooking the mountains, they would’ve missed this moment.
They would’ve gotten to Milltown on time. He would’ve dropped her off and driven away, maybe for good, and she might never have seen him again.
She glanced back and smiled at him. While she wasn’t glad about the accident, she was happy that she was definitely going to see him again.
* * *
Dr. Hartman’s small office, tucked behind the operating theatre, was spare and efficient. It was the kind of place where emotion made way for precision. Still, his brown eyes softened when he stood to greet her.
“Dr. Westfield,” he said, shaking her hand. “Thank you for what you did out there on that mountain. The EMTs said your intervention made a real difference.”
“I just applied pressure, stopped the bleeding as best I could, and tried to keep them all breathing.” She brushed off the praise, even as her pulse ticked up at the memory of blood, bones, and the sickening silence that always occurs after that kind of tragic accident.
“Exactly what they needed,” he said. “And we’re grateful.” He gestured toward the chair across from his desk. “Please, sit.”
She dropped into another ugly orange chair while he tapped his tablet. “Is that Damian’s chart?”
“Yes.” The screen glowed faintly between them, casting pale light across his lined face. “He has significant internal bleeding.”
“Did the spleen rupture fully, or are we looking at a Grade III?”
“Grade IV.” His brows lifted in approval. “We had no choice. We did a splenectomy.”
She exhaled slowly, the implications already calculating in her mind.
“There’s also a suspected concussion. We’re watching intracranial pressure closely.
But the orthopedic injuries are more immediately pressing.
” His expression tightened as he scrolled.
“Both his left femur and right humerus are fractured. The femur fracture is compound, and worse than we thought. We’re concerned about vascular compromise. ”
Her stomach sank. “You mean he could lose the leg?”
“Yes,” Dr. Hartman said grimly. “The break’s close to the femoral artery. If blood flow doesn’t return, we risk tissue necrosis. He could lose it.”
Her mind jumped ahead to surgical timelines and vascular trauma. “What’s the plan?”
“We need a trauma-trained orthopedic surgeon with vascular experience. Closest one is Dr. Meera Singh out of Fairfax. She’s en route.”
“Airlift?”
“Would’ve been ideal, but there was a pileup on the beltway around D.C. Sixteen Rolling to Remember bikers were hit by a dump truck. No helicopters available at the moment.”
“That’s awful,” she whispered, gripping her knees. Her instinct to help surged again, despite the hours and mountains between them and Washington, D.C.
“It is. But the State Police offered an escort to get Dr. Singh here. ETA is under three hours.”
She nodded, frustrated yet grateful.
“I know you’re not officially on staff until Wednesday,” Dr. Hartman continued, “and that you’ll be in Ob/Gyn, but I value your experience. If something feels off—like with that guy in the ER whose appendix almost burst—flag it. Just no direct patient care until we finalize your onboarding.”
“Understood.”
“One more thing,” he added. “Your real estate agent called. She won’t be back until Wednesday to hand over the keys to your apartment.”
A knot twisted in her stomach. “I tried to make a hotel reservation a few weeks ago, but everything was booked.”
“Between Hawk Mosby’s wedding and the Memorial Day events, there’s not a room within twenty miles. But word is you’re staying with Kane and Eve Mosby in Kingsmill for now?”
Before she could respond, he chuckled and held up a hand. “You’ll get used to our small-town ways.”
She hoped so.
He stood, then hesitated, as if debating one last thing. “Since you’ll be staying with Eve until your apartment’s ready, there’s something you should know. She’s pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. She’ll be your patient starting next week.”
Her professional alertness sharpened. “How far along is Eve?”
“Twenty-eight weeks. She’s also thirty-four years old and had a traumatic miscarriage a few years back.”
“Is she on bedrest?”
“Not yet. But at her last appointment, her blood pressure was a little high. There was trace protein in her urine. Nothing critical—yet—but with her history…”
“You’re watching for preeclampsia.”
He nodded. “I’m also concerned about premature labor. Baby A’s a boy and sitting low.”
Holly’s voice softened. “If she complains of headaches, swelling, or vision changes, I’ll call you right away.”
“Thank you,” he said, visibly relieved. “I’ve known the Mosby family for years, and the entire town will be devastated if she loses this pregnancy.”
“I’ll do my best.” Twins and a potential complication with an older mother and early signs of preeclampsia were definitely something to watch carefully. She’d seen how quickly things could turn from concerning to critical.
“Great.” He sighed and shifted papers on his desk. “We’ll get you onboarded Wednesday, but between now and then, you’re part of this team—unofficially. You’ve already proved that.”
“I appreciate the trust.” She said her goodbyes, but as she stepped out of his office, a knot settled in her chest. Damian’s leg.
Eve’s twins. In less than a day, the start of her quiet new life in Milltown had turned into something else entirely.
Something else that might also include a handsome man named Luke Mosby.
And she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.