Chapter Nine
I sla was three-quarters of the way through her day on the following Friday, working in ICU, when she was given a ten-minute break. Now that she wasn’t currently needed to check vitals, administer meds, or empty catheter bags, she let her mind drift to tomorrow and the possibility of seeing Sinjin.
He’d been away for a few days, working a job in Dallas with two other guys, but a whole week had almost passed since they’d relieved stress , and she was hoping to change that tomorrow, as he was due back by noon.
Since their initial “one-nighter” almost two weeks ago, she had enjoyed several more with her hot neighbor. They didn’t get together every night. No, that wouldn’t fall into the light and fun category.
He was also helping her less with Loki, since she was apparently getting a grasp on that too. A snicker threatened to escape, so she bit her lip. Her dog was listening better—thriving actually—and she was too. The semester was flying by, and she could hardly believe it would soon be over and she would be preparing to take the NCLEX exam.
Life was good.
That thought scared her because experience had taught her that immediately following such thoughts, life turned to crap.
A shiver raced down her spine.
She hoped she hadn’t just jinxed herself.
Isla was glad she’d agreed to meet her cousin and the ESI wives of the guys away with Sinjin for dinner at the local bar and grill later.
It would be a nice treat for the end of the week.
The intercom clicked and a Code Blue in ICU was announced over the speaker. Isla immediately sprang to her feet and rushed down the hall, grateful she hadn’t gone far on her break.
“What’s going on?” A man in a pinstriped suit and slicked back hair stepped out of an ICU waiting room and blocked her path.
“I don’t know. I’m going to find out. Please move. Now .” With no time to wait for a response, she ducked past the guy and continued at her jogging pace.
A quick flash of her ID to a box on the wall triggered the double ICU doors to open and she entered the hustle and bustle inside. Doctors and nurses converged on the patient going into cardiac arrest in Bed 3.
Isla had taken Mr. Briganti’s vitals an hour ago. They weren’t great, but he was hanging in there.
Yesterday, the sixty-two-year-old man had entered the ER with a GSW—gunshot wound—to his abdomen and had undergone emergency surgery before he was transferred to ICU around midnight.
When Isla had arrived that morning, he was on a ventilator and had an NG tube inserted through his nose , down into his stomach to remove fluid. Mr. Briganti was in critical condition. It was amazing he had even survived the surgery.
Wounds to the stomach could involve visceral and vascular injuries—the nervous system and blood vessels—and damage the liver, stomach, intestines, colon, and spine. The area was a prime target for trouble. Depending on the bullet’s trajectory, it was dangerous and often fatal.
Isla immediately stepped close to help, doing her best to anticipate what the doctors or other staff would need, enduring barked orders with a thick skin. She understood it to be a requirement for the career as well as quick and precise action.
During the Code Blue, she held up, used her training, carried out every order barked at her, and she even remained calm when the patient unexpectedly grabbed her arm and squeezed hard enough to leave a bruise while the doctors worked on him.
But despite the incredible efforts of the staff, Mr. Briganti didn’t make it.
After the doctor called it, the head nurse sent Isla to another bed to check vitals and record them. The remainder of her shift involved more of the same, but no other Code Blues. She managed to keep that one off her mind and performed her duties in an “exemplary manner”, according to the notation on her record written by the head nurse.
When Isla arrived home, she took Loki for a walk and played with him on the beach until it was time to get changed and meet the girls at the restaurant. Yeah, she should’ve started her assessment that was required, but Isla wasn’t ready to replay the Code Blue part in her head or summarize it on paper.
So, she put on a brightly colored, strapless maxi dress to bolster her spirits and headed out the door. Since Texas Pub was basically across the street from her row of cottages, it didn’t take her long to walk there.
The parking lot was full as it usually was on a Friday night. As soon as she stepped inside, the music from the live band met her at the door. She blinked to adjust to the lighting and was kind of sorry she’d agreed to dinner. Normally, she enjoyed when there was a live band, but she wasn’t in the mood tonight. It kind of rattled her nerves.
Still, she couldn’t turn and leave because Lyndsey had already spotted her and was waving from a table in the back near the bar. Thank God the music wasn’t as loud back there.
Waving to her cousin and Mel and Stef as she walked to the table, she made a promise to enjoy herself. When she reached them, she grinned, surprised to find Emily there too.
“I thought you were moving in next weekend,” she said, taking a seat between the woman and Lyndsey.
“I am,” Emily said. “Just came in for the closing. They moved it up a week.”
“That’s fantastic!” She immediately hugged her friend. “Congratulations, you new homeowner, you.”
Emily laughed. “Thanks. I’m so thrilled.”
“Yeah, this is now a celebratory dinner for Emily,” Mel said, pouring a pitcher of the owner’s famous sangria into five glasses that Stef passed around to everyone.
“To Emily and her new ranch,” Lyndsey said, lifting her glass and the others followed suit. “May the renovations be easy, and animals be many.”
She sipped her drink, grateful for the cold, tangy, sweet treat.
“Oh, wow, Isla, what happened to your arm?” Lyndsey asked, catching her wrist, causing a swish of sangria to slip over the side of her glass and hit the table.
Shrugging, she tugged free and reached for a napkin to wipe up the spill. “Patient grabbed me. It’s part of the job. No biggie.”
“Yeah, happens at the tattoo parlor all the time,” Mel said. “Not to me, but sometimes to the relative or significant other of the person I’m inking.”
Stef frowned. “Really?”
Mel nodded. “Yeah. Depending on the location of where I’m tattooing, those needles can be terribly painful. So oftentimes my client will squeeze the hand or arm of whoever is with them.”
“Yes, that’s what this was from,” she said. “A patient was going through a painful procedure.”
And died.
Her cousin frowned. “I didn’t know. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Forget about it,” she insisted, setting her hand on her leg so her arm wasn’t as visible. She hadn’t thought to wear a long-sleeved shirt to cover it. Stupid. “Let’s get back to the celebration. It’s Emily’s night.”
For the next hour and a half, Isla managed to push back thoughts of her day and made an effort to enjoy the delicious food and time with good friends.
And she counted down the minutes until it would be acceptable to leave. Isla even thought of using Loki as an excuse, only everyone there already knew about his progress and the fact she no longer required training.
Her training sessions.
Sinjin immediately sprang through her mind. God, she wished he was there. If ever she was in need of relief, it was tonight.
Another twenty-seven minutes and she was relieved when Stef asked for the check, and everyone divvied up Emily’s portion and added it to their own. Ten minutes after that, she walked with Mel across the street, and they parted on the corner. The woman lived on the third floor of the ESI building, in a crazy cool apartment decked out by her tech genius husband, Carter.
Isla had been there for tacos and game night two Tuesdays ago. The place had every gadget known to man—and some that weren’t—she suspected.
As she walked past the Potters, her legs began to feel like lead. It was weird. Her chest was tight, too. But she trudged on, feeling as if she was walking through Jell-o.
Was she coming down with something?
No. Her mind instantly vetoed that.
It was because she’d lost her first patient.
Her throat heated and her eyes stung.
Mr. Briganti hadn’t exactly been her patient, but she had helped to work on him. That was enough to make Isla feel responsible. She absently rubbed her arm. Maybe gripping her had given him some comfort.
Sniffing, she cleared her throat and made her way to her cottage. Relief washed through her, sending some of her unshed tears down her face at the sight of a note from Sinjin stuck to her door.
Are you okay? Come see me when you get home. -Sinjin
The lead, the Jell-o, all of it seemed to disappear because within seconds, she was on his porch, knocking on his door.