Chapter One
Chapter One
LIV
S omething about driving with the windows down while cruising over the causeway makes me smile. The second I lower the window, the familiar scent of saltwater washes through the car. The beach has always been my happy place, and l was damn lucky to find an apartment and job so close to it.
While I make my way down the highway toward work, I steal glances at the view. The waves, the people sunning themselves on the beach, the surfers in the water, and even the seagulls squawking overhead make me smile. I drink it all in for a moment… that is until the hot-as-fuck blast of steam assaults my face and I’m ripped back to reality.
God, it’s hot as Hades today. I pull at my shirt as the sweat trickles down into my cleavage. I turn off on the next exit ramp and pull into the employee parking lot of the Bayside Hospital Emergency Department.
“Great,” I mutter to myself. Quickly looking around, I see multiple ambulances parked in the designated bays. It’s going to be a busy night. “What else is new?” I breathe out on a long, exaggerated sigh.
This is the norm for the start of any weekend, but this isn’t just any weekend. It’s spring break on Padre Island—guaranteed to supply an endless amount of ER visits from sun-induced dehydration to broken bones to college kids who have one (or five) too many beers. Lucky me.
With my work bag slung over my shoulder and iced coffee in hand, I make my way to the front doors. I say a silent prayer and hope that if I hide my badge and don’t make eye contact, then no one will stop and ask me anything. This is my reasoning, at least, to not be bothered with a million questions before I start my shift.
I walk past the triage desk in the emergency room and subtly scan the packed waiting room. It’s already filled with patients. I head to my locker, throw my bag in and make a spot for my lunch in the fridge, gently squishing it into a packed space.
Geez, I hope my leftovers from dinner last night don’t fall out because that would royally suck. I had blackened catfish the previous night, and I plan on reheating it later. Nothing worse than stinky fish in the lunchroom, I chuckle to myself. Besides, there are worse smells in this place.
I keep a firm hold on my iced coffee as I leave the break room. I wish I could shoot this stuff straight into my circulatory system to get one immediate, gratifying caffeine rush. Lord knows I need it this evening. Working the night shift can be challenging, but not even the white noise produced by my oscillating fan could put me in my usual death-like sleep. I blame the grounds crew mowing at my apartment complex for four hours straight for my lack of energy today.
Although I’d like to blame it all on that, it isn’t the real reason I had shity sleep. I’ve had a ton of crap on my mind lately, namely the unpleasant subject of my current boyfriend, Brodie. Being in a perpetual state of limbo with this guy is just dragging me down. Our relationship status is something we decided to chat about this weekend. It shouldn’t be this hard. We’ve known each other practically our whole lives.
Before I go too far down that rabbit hole, I shove these thoughts to the back of my mind.
First things first, I just have to get through this shift. I walk to the nurses’ station, take one last swig of my highly caffeinated drink, and reluctantly place it in the cubby. It sits among countless other beverages, condensation pooling all around the surface.
The assignment board is already updated. I scan it quickly and begin my hunt for Emma. I need to get a report on her patients so she can get out of this place. At least one person will be having fun tonight. Why did I sign up for this shift? Oh yeah, I need the money.
I shift my gaze down one of the corridors and spot who I’m looking for. Blond hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, Emma is not only a nurse that I happen to be relieving at shift change but also one of my best friends. As high energy as ever, I can hear her excitedly babbling to one of our attendings. Her hand gestures raised above her head are so fast that I think she may accidentally smack him in the face. There’s a reason people refer to her as the Energizer Bunny.
We both took the sign-on bonus offered at the hospital after our nursing school graduation a couple of years ago. She took a job on the twelve-hour day shift, while I decided to take the opposite twelve-hour night shift. My decision to take the less-desirable shift allowed me to enroll in classes for my bachelor’s degree. Classes during the day, work at night. Grueling schedule for sure, but it’s getting me where I want to be, so I’m sucking it up and embracing the chaos. My social life has taken a hit between school and work, but I’ll graduate with my BSN in a couple of months and then continue to Houston, where I’ve been accepted into nurse practitioner school. Soon I’ll be leaving this town and moving on to bigger and better things.
Emma catches my eye, and I nod to let her know I’m here.
As I walk toward her, she flashes me a huge smile. “Thank God you’re here. It’s been hell today.”
I can’t help but stifle a laugh. “You say that every shift.”
She carefully counts the remaining narcotics in the bin and enters the correct count before closing it. “I only say it because it’s true.” She giggles. “I hope your night is better, but looking at the stack of pending charts…” she trails off and gives me a sympathetic frown.
Ready to brave the shift, I chuckle and head toward the nurse’s station. “Judging by the waiting room, I think I’m forever and eternally fucked tonight. Let’s hope nothing memorable happens.”
Emma gently squeezes my shoulder before shoving some charts into my hands. “Come on, Liv, I’ll give you a report on my patients. Room ten has some pain meds ordered, and I’ll give her those before I leave. Can you reassess her pain in a bit?”
Thank goodness for Emma. The woman looked extremely uncomfortable when I peeked in as we passed her room. I do not want her to wait for her pain medication until after our shift change.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes to give you a report on the rest of my patients. The sooner I do, the sooner I can get my drink on tonight.” With that, she turns on her heels and prances down the hall.
Ten minutes later, Emma pops back up by my elbow. I’m only half-listening as she gives me the sign-out on her patients.
“The labs on the patient in room eight just came back, and room two is…” She can tell by the look on my face that I’m in no mood for work. “You know we’re all going to miss you tonight, right? It’s the first time in a long while that we’ve all been able to get together.”
I don’t need the reminder. The fact that I am missing out on tonight is a bit of a sore spot. Our mutual high school friends are returning again for the continuous spring break beach party. The days at the beach, sea sculptures, and live entertainment are just some things that happen on the island during this carnivalesque time.
“You have no idea how jealous I am right now, Em.”
She makes a melodramatic pouty face while holding both arms out for a hug.
I give her a quick squeeze, feeling utterly deflated. For a second, I consider telling my manager I’m not feeling well so I can go home. But my stupid conscience won’t allow it. I will only call out from my shift if I’m dead or dealing with some other near-death experience. I’m not sure if even that wouldn’t require a call-out. As tired (and jealous) as I am, missing work is not an option. I need every penny for graduate school; the move to Houston won't be cheap.
“I’ll see them tomorrow, Em. Actually, in less than twenty-four hours, you know that.” As positive as I try to sound on the outside, I’m internally cursing this shift. “Well, I want lots of pics tonight to make me feel like I am there with you guys.”
“Of course,” Emma quickly replies. “You know we will. I expect to meet up with the whole gang later tonight, and I will send pics of that. You better go straight to bed after your shift and get the best four hours of sleep because I am picking your ass up by noon, got it?”
I laugh. “I expect a large iced coffee and preferably a greasy breakfast burrito.”
She laughs as she grabs her bags and heads toward the door. “Naturally, only the breakfast of champions for my bestie,” she says over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” And with that, she grabs her purse and giant water bottle and heads for the door.
I shuffle my feet in dramatic flair. Yup, I am definitely not ready for this shift.
As soon as she leaves, I spot Dr. Hall, the handsome thirty-eight-year-old ER physician with a reputation for flirting with the staff.
“Hi, Dr. Hall.”
“Hey, Liv. Glad you’re on tonight.” He throws me a wink.
Typically, that little gesture would have perked me up, but even that doesn’t help my mood. “Thanks,” I reply. “I’ve got some updates. The labs are back on the patient in room eight, and the completed chart for review is queued first in line when you get a chance.”
I am met with kind but tired eyes, almost reflecting my own. “Great,” he mutters as he quickly goes to retrieve the chart.
I check on my other patients and quickly chart and update vital signs. Dr. Hall comes over and informs me that he printed out the discharge instructions for bay eight, and they can go. At least someone is getting out of here quickly tonight.
I gather all the instructions and check to see if she needs anything else before making my way over there. The drape is still closed, so I call out her name before I peek in.
Mrs. Shea replies, “Just a minute, dear. I am just pulling on my shirt.”
I wait patiently for her to finish and help her to the waiting room. As I pass the discharge instructions to her, we see her husband pulling up in front of the entrance. As I watch her drive away, I can’t help but think about what the next patient will bring.
I let the ED tech know that the bay is empty so they can clean up the room and prepare it for the next patient. Our department is certainly busy, but thank goodness it’s efficient. I grab the following chart in the queue and look at the chief complaint—ankle pain, related to a surfing injury.
“Well, that’s a total surprise,” I mutter as I make my way to the waiting room and open the door. “Dax Johnson?” I call out.
No reply. I see two guys sitting in the chairs wearing board shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops, chatting animatedly with each other. When they get up, I bet there will be sand all over the seats too.
A quick scan of them shows one has a bruised and swollen ankle. That has to be him. But as my eyes wander up from the ankle in question, I notice the rest of him. I feel myself start to zone out a bit as they continue their conversation, and my eyes drift from his ankle up to his legs and over his lean body. He must be the most attractive man I have ever seen. Around six foot four inches, toned, tan, and totally delicious. His long, muscular legs are streaked with blond hair. His T-shirt is tight against his chest and shows off his narrow waist. His shorts sit low on his hips, just low enough that I catch the shadow of a V pointing straight to where I’m trying not to look.
I realize both are still oblivious to my announcement and the fact that I’ve been so blatantly staring at them. I look away as my cheeks begin to heat. I notice a couple of patients smirking at my lack of subtlety. I give myself a mental slap and call the name again.
“Dax Johnson?” My voice comes out an octave too high, and I pray they overlooked that too.
I see the pair halt their conversation, and one raises his arm. “That’s me, coming.”
His deep voice pierces right through me and sends a wave of butterflies straight into my stomach. He tries to get up but stumbles almost immediately, trying to avoid putting weight on his ankle.
I go to grab a wheelchair just in case he needs it. When I return, I see he’s made his way across the waiting room—holding on to his friend’s arm for support. It’s then I notice his arms. Thick, muscular arms with every nurse's dream of pipe veins running up his forearms. If a forearm porn show were a thing, he would be the star. I lift my vision to his face and catch him staring at me with amusement.
Was I that obvious? My face immediately flushes with embarrassment, and it becomes about a hundred degrees too hot in the room. My blood seems to have been rerouted and is collecting in my now scorching face.
Taking a deep breath, I try to regain an ounce of professionalism and look up. I’m instantly met with the most exquisite pair of penetrating blue eyes. Wow, is there anything wrong with him? Oh yeah, his ankle.
He stares at me with such intensity that I feel he can almost read my thoughts as his gaze also shoots to his ankle. I immediately look away in embarrassment because he knows what I was thinking.
“Do you need a wheelchair?” I ask in the most squeaky-sounding voice I have ever heard myself make to further my humiliation.
He looks at the wheelchair and then back at me, smiling. As if he couldn’t make me feel any giddier, a dimple appears on his left cheek, and I feel a slight warmth spread between my legs.
I try to move forward but feel my feet locked in place. It’s as if my shoes are cemented to the waiting room floor. Damn, can I be any more pathetic?
I clear my throat and try again. “Do you need a wheelchair?”
He shakes his head, and I feel his unwavering stare, but I avoid eye contact this time. “No thanks, I can walk,” he says while grabbing on to his friend’s arm for support.
I go to put the wheelchair back and hit the button for the automatic door.
He begins to walk, and I hear him say, “This might take me a minute.”
I reply over my shoulder, “That’s fine. You can take your time with me. I mean, umm, no need to rush.” I immediately rush around the corner and smack my forehead. Someone just shoot me now and end my word vomit. “We don’t have far to go,” I add. “Just around the corner.”
We make it to the empty bay, and I notice that his friend hasn’t come with him. I grab a hospital gown from the cabinet and hand it to him. As he reaches out for the gown, his fingers brush my palm. The touch is soft but electric. The zap immediately shoots through my hand into my body, making me tingle all over. Jerking my hand away and wondering if he felt that too, I take a step back to close the curtain and give him privacy. But let’s be honest, I just need some space to pull myself together.
“I’ll let you change and be back in a bit to check on you.”
Before I can leave, I hear that deep voice say, “Miss?”
I pop my head back through the curtain.
He glances at the hospital attire with a questioning look on his face. “Do I really need to put this on? I mean, it’s just my ankle, and I am wearing shorts. I’ll probably just need an x-ray, right? Quick wet read by the radiologist, and I’ll be on my way.” He flashes me that dimple again.
I stare at him dumbfounded. He’s right, and I realize I’ve been on autopilot, distracted by his unyielding gaze and that damn dimple. “Um, yeah. You can stay in your clothes.” I manage, fighting the urge to see more of his body.
His use of medical terminology and willingness to question instructions intrigue me. Most patients comply without a word. Is he in the medical field? I want to ask, but I’m too flustered, desperate to escape before my blushing face betrays me.
“Have a seat on the stretcher, and I’ll get you a pillow to elevate your leg and an ice pack while you wait. My name is Liv, and I’ll be your nurse this evening. You’re right about the x-ray. I’ll go throw the order in now, so you won’t have to be here any longer than necessary. How is your pain right now?”
I’m surprised I could get out a couple of coherent sentences in a row. Autopilot phrases I commonly use seem to be taking over my thinking. He looks at me with those smoking blue eyes, and I then notice lusciously thick lashes surrounding them.
Staring fixedly at me, he says, “Not too bad.”
Why do guys have such thick eyelashes while women have to pay for that stuff?
He slumps back onto the stretcher and brushes his hand through his hair, still not looking away. It makes my breath hitch, and I look down at his leg to hopefully break the tension in the room.
“Good, then I’ll have one of the techs bring you that pillow and an ice pack.”
As I begin turning away for the second time, he stops me by saying, “Liv, I thought you were going to bring me those items.”
I glance up and see the amusement on his face. He knows that I find him attractive. Now he is just fucking with me. Cocky much? I need to get it together.
With as much disinterest as I can muster, I turn back around and say, “I’ll try, but otherwise, someone will be back shortly. If I cannot make it back sooner, that is.” Before I close the curtain, I add more sway to my ass. I might as well play this up.
I head straight for the nurse’s station to grab a tech and ask them to bring the items over. I’d like to avoid further embarrassment if possible.
I pick up my iced coffee and take a few large gulps. My mouth is dry, and my heart is hammering in my chest. I wonder if he feels the same way. Maybe it’s all in my head? Either way, it’s going to be a long night.