Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Quinton
“Can you help out in the ER?” Christie eyed me over her reading glasses. Her normally neat black hair—with threads of gray—was disordered. So was her desk.
“That bad?” I glanced at her wall clock that read ten past ten. My shift had started mere hours ago, and I was already exhausted.
Christie voluntarily took the helm as head nurse on weekends. Without a family, and having only six adorable cats who didn’t necessarily miss her, she chose to do these yucky shifts. Her chaotic appearance was very unlike her.
“Four injured firefighters from Mission City. Two others were redirected to Maple Ridge. None were serious enough to require transporting into New West, but I still want them treated and out as soon as I can get them. With our regular Sunday-night load, we’re already racked and stacked."
With patients who either couldn’t wait until the next day to see their family doctor or, just as likely, didn’t have a family doctor at all.
“Sure, I can go.” I gave her a little salute and headed down to the ER.
As she’d intimated, the place was general chaos. Well, this is going to be more interesting than maternity where we had exactly zero women in labor. New moon or something. Whether we had more women giving birth during a full moon was always fun gossip.
Nadine grabbed my arm. “Curtain twelve.”
“Sure.” I donned gloves, then pushed the curtain aside as I stepped inside. Despite myself, I laughed. “Seriously, Finn? What did you do?”
The super sexy—and super gay—firefighter gave me a lopsided smile. “Got hit on the head.” At least he was no longer in his turnout gear. If he was able to get into his sweats, then things couldn’t be that bad.
Or so I told myself.
“Oh shit.” I moved toward him.
“Not as bad as Marlon or Albert. Or hell, even Miriam.” He winced. “Plus Giancarlo and Krish who were sent to Maple Ridge.” He scratched his nose with his very sooty hand. “Can you find out how everyone’s doing?”
“First, I want to check your pupils.” I grabbed the flashlight. “This is going to hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“Didn’t you just say, got hit on the head?”
He winced again. “You’re too smart.”
I chuckled. Then flashed the light in each eye. “Have you seen Dr. Medina yet?”
“She’s run off her feet tonight. I told you—I’m okay.”
“How about you let the medical professionals determine that?”
“What did you see?”
I hesitated. Then decided he knew just enough to know too much. But I still plunged forward. “Left pupil was sluggish—”
“I’m tired.”
“I’m still going to let her know. I suspect an MRI is in order.”
He sighed. “I’m fine. If you could just arrange a ride home—”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving here without a neuro consult. Now, are you going to behave so I can check on everyone else?”
Slowly, he nodded.
Finn was a damn fine-looking man. Tall, sculpted, and a ginger with dark-blue eyes.
He’d take the breath away of anyone with a pulse between eighteen and eighty.
He also happened to be not my type in any way.
Which said something as I was an unabashed bisexual who was vers.
Finn just…didn’t do it for me. I chalked it up to him being too pretty although, given my feelings of lust for Leo, that didn’t hold water either.
The fact we’d gone to school together probably hadn’t helped. Still, as two of the only gay guys in Mission City, we’d felt obliged to try dating. Anyway, after one disastrous attempted hookup years ago, we decided being friends worked better for us.
“I’ll be back.” I closed the curtain after I exited, removed my gloves, and headed to curtain eleven.
Miriam also wore sweats. She also had an oxygen mask on. She yanked it down when she saw me.
I checked her pulse ox and attempted to push it back on.
“I want a canula.” She jutted out her chin.
In return, I arched an eyebrow.
She coughed. “What I really want is to go home.”
“Well, that’s not happening. Your pulse ox is shit, so you’re staying right where you are. Any other injuries?”
She shook her head.
“Care to tell me what happened? Finn took a knock to the head. You’ve got what I assume is smoke inhalation—”
She nodded.
“And the others?”
She pursed her lips. “Albert’s got a broken arm, and Marlon’s twisted his ankle. I think Giancarlo and Krish had smoke inhalation stuff as well. But they’re at Maple Ridge.”
I attempted to nudge the mask back on.
“Damn it.” She coughed again.
I read panic in her eyes. After moving closer, I asked, “What is it?”
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“What shouldn’t have?”
“All of it. We cleared the building. We were on our way out. Then all hell broke loose.”
“How’s it going in here?” Fire chief Gerald McInerny stepped into the treatment area. The man was tall, muscular, and my hackles rose. For reasons I could never truly explain, the guy didn’t sit well with me. Perhaps because Marlon, his son, was my tormentor in high school.
The firefighter with the twisted ankle.
Miriam gripped my hand that still held the mask.
Gently, I put it back over her nose and mouth. “She needs rest. How did you get back here?”
“Seeing Marlon. Thought I’d check on all my team.”
I met Miriam’s vivid green eyes and read true fear. What the fuck is going on? I gestured for the chief to exit. Turning back to my patient, I offered a smile. “Rest, okay? I’ll make certain no one disturbs you.”
In those same eyes, I read gratitude.
I followed the chief out and firmly pulled the curtain closed. “You should only be seeing Marlon. We’re busy tonight treating your people.”
“As you said, they’re my people. I care about them.” He puffed out his chest.
Horseshit. I might not know what was going on—but I knew he wasn't on the level. “Why don’t we check up on Marlon?” I gestured toward curtain ten.
“Yeah, that would be good.”
Which begged the question—why hadn’t he done that first?
I opened the curtain and took in the scene of Marlon lying on the bed with his right foot elevated and an icepack on it. He was talking into his cell phone, but abruptly cut the conversation when he spotted us. “Hey, Dad.” He glared at me. “They couldn’t find anyone else?”
Glad to see nothing’s changed. “Us queer nurses are as competent as the straight ones.”
Dr. Medina poked her head in. “Quinton? I’ve got a woman in six who can’t stop vomiting. Can you help?”
“At least you’re only cleaning up vomit and not shit.” Marlon snickered.
My doc met my gaze and I read the apology in her expression. She likely didn’t know why Marlon was being an asshole. That said, she dealt with them on a regular basis, so she was familiar with the type.
As I was shutting the curtain, I heard chief growl, “What the fuck, Marlon?”
I didn’t stick around to hear his jerk son’s reply.
The nice and hugely apologetic woman in six was in trouble. At seven months’ pregnant, she couldn’t risk getting dehydrated.
I checked her chart. “Maternity is preparing a bed for you. They’ll be better able to care for you. The ER is no place for someone that pregnant.” I pointed to her belly.
She managed to say, “Twins,” before she vomited again.
Nothing but bile. Damn.
I double checked her IV. “Well, we’re getting fluids into you. How long has this been going on?”
“All day. Thought I caught the flu or something.”
Which was possible. Or this might be something more serious. She needed to be seen by an obstetrician who could better assess her.
I rubbed her back.
“And I’m telling you to lose the sample.” A gruff, deep voice from just beyond the curtain caught my attention.
“Sir—” A quivering female voice.
“You fucking do it. Otherwise, you’ll regret it.”
I moved to pull back the curtain, but by the time I got there, whoever had been speaking was gone.
Lose the sample. Not a voice I recognized. But then he might’ve…what? Used a different voice? And the woman’s voice… I searched my mind as I tried to remember all the phlebotomists I knew. Especially ones who might be working tonight.
Nope. I recalled Randy was on shift tonight. And he definitely didn’t have a female voice.
“Uh—”
I spun just in time to have the nice pregnant woman vomit on my shoes.
Lovely.
By the time I got her settled and on her way to maternity, Miriam was asleep, Finn was getting his MRI, Albert was in x-ray, Marlon was nowhere to be found, and the chief was gone as well. Those two final ones might be related—maybe I got lucky and the asshole chief took his bully son home.
I was checking the vitals of a squalling infant when I caught sight of Finn putting on his coat. I caught the mother’s gaze. “I’ll be right back.”
She nodded.
I made my way over to Finn. “MRI clear?”
He shrugged.
I put my hands on my hips. “You checking out AMA?” Against medical advice.
“I’m fine. Just got a headache. Nothing to be worried about.”
“And how will the doctor follow-up?”
He met my gaze. “You know where I live. If there’s anything to worry about, call me or something, okay? Plus, Mom’s a nurse. I’m fine. Trust me, Quinton.”
I held that stare for a long moment. What aren’t you telling me? What had Miriam said? That it shouldn’t have happened? “Are you okay?”
He arched an eyebrow.
“Are you safe?”
“Knock on the head. I’m taking a cab home. It’ll cost a fortune, but the firehall can pay for it.”
“No one else here?” Usually, when a firefighter was injured, a bunch of their buddies crowded our waiting room.
“They’re still at the cleanup.” His phone buzzed, and he checked it. “Cab’s here. I gotta go.” With that, he disappeared.
Since I didn’t have the time to chase him, I pivoted back to my infant charge whose fever was dangerously high. I smiled at her mom. “We’ll do our best to get her temperature down.”
I spent the rest of my shift moving from patient to patient. Emergency wasn’t my specialty, but they didn’t have me helping with traumas or anything like that.
Which was why I didn’t hear about the burn victim until the end of my shift.
I was staggering to the change room when Christie caught up with me.
“Good work tonight.”
“Did my best. We were swamped.”
“Height of virus season and that fire over in Mission City. All the firefighters have been sent home and the burn victim has been transferred to Vancouver.”
“Burn victim?”
“Yeah, some kid. I didn’t get all the details, but it’s bad. She might not make it.”
“Wow.” I tried to wrap my mind around that.
“Okay, you go home. You’re off for twenty-four hours, right?”
“Yep.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Back tomorrow morning for another run. Marlena hasn’t said where she’ll put me yet.”
“You did good in the ER.”
“Sure, but it’s not where I’m most comfortable. I like to take time with my patients.”
She shrugged. “Well, with so many viruses going around, I have no doubt Marlena will put you where the need’s greatest. Later.
” She headed toward the exit with her sensible shoes squeaking on the floor as she went.
As she was close to Mom’s age, I gave a passing thought to when she might retire as well.
Then I spotted the man who had me obsessed and who I’d also managed not to think about for the past day.
Well, much.
So I told myself. I raised my hand, “Hey, Leo.”
He offered a broad smile. “How’s it going? The kids ate a bunch more cookies, but left a few for me. I’m hoping to thank your mom. She, uh, knows you gave them to me, right?”
Does she know we have a social relationship? Well, yeah. At least she doesn’t know we fucked in a hotel room… “Yes, she knows. She was happy to do it.”
“You’re off now?”
I nodded. “It’s been a rough night.”
Lose the sample. The gruff words flashed back into my mind. I gestured to Leo with my chin. “You have a moment?”
He glanced at his watch. “A quick one. I’m meeting with a patient in half an hour.”
“Something weird happened last night.” I glanced around to ensure we couldn’t be overheard.
Leo cocked his head. “Weird how?”
I fidgeted. “Well, a bunch of Mission City firefighters were here. Which is odd enough, given how careful firefighters are.”
“Right. But accidents happen. Unexpected things occur.”
“Sure…”
His brow knit. “What?” With just a touch of impatience.
I cleared my throat. “I heard someone tell someone else to get rid of a sample. I mean, I’m assuming it’s a blood sample and—”
“Quinton, what are you talking about?” More impatience.
“I heard someone tell someone else to get rid of a sample.” Yet, even as I said the words, they sounded ridiculous. If only I’d seen who was talking.
“Did you see these people?”
As if he’s reading my mind. “Well, no.”
“Then how did you hear them?”
“They were on the other side of the curtain.”
“In the ER?”
“Yes.”
He gave me a smile I could only label as patronizing. “Look, Quinton, things are always chaotic down there. You probably misheard something. Or misunderstood.” He put his hand on his hip.
Playful Leo was gone and in his place was someone clearly annoyed with me.
“Sorry to bother you.”
He sighed. “I really need to get going. You’re working days, right?”
“Yeah.” Now I was wary.
“Maybe one night we can get together. I’m at Gideon’s on Wednesday for dinner and, uh…” He frowned. “I’m busy on Thursday.”
“So you’re saying tonight or tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
I frowned. “Why don’t you text me? I’m dead on my feet.”
“Right. Of course. Sorry to have kept you.” With that, he stalked away.
Sheesh. What was that all about? First friendly. Then standoffish. Then asking me to dinner. Then walking away.
Sometimes I was convinced I’d never truly understand Dr. Leo Rodgers.
The rest of the time, I wondered why I would even bother.
Then I remembered the laughing father who adored his kids more than life itself. The man who’d had a rough go at things.
So yeah, I’ll text him…