Chapter 11
Luke
“Code Blue. Room two-four-two. Repeat Code Blue. Room two-four-two. Repeat Code Blue. Room two-four-two. Crash team respond immediately. Repeat crash team respond immediately. Repeat crash team respond immediately. Room two-four-two.”
Until this moment, I always thought two repeats were a little unnecessary, but seeing as I didn’t register that I needed to get my ass in gear until I heard it the third time, I’m glad the system is what it is.
I throw my phone on my desk and burst out of my small office, racing down the hall. As the physician on the active crash team this morning, I’m in charge and someone else grabs the cart and starts the AED.
I barrel through the door of room 242 and see a young man lying motionless in the bed, his monitors going haywire at the lack of a heartbeat. Without wasting a single second, I rip open his hospital gown while the nurse is shouting information at me.
“Twenty-one-year-old Staff Sergeant recovering from MVA on motorcycle. Eight hours post-op from tib/fib fractures.”
“Shit.”
I climb on the bed with him and begin dishing out orders. “Start the AED, prep an OR, and page Dr. Asbury, NOW.” I push down on the kid’s chest in a rhythmic manner while people move around me. “Stacy, get him bagged.”
This kid has most likely thrown a pulmonary embolism from a blood clot in his leg. The fact that he’s in cardiac arrest isn’t good. In fact, it means his chances of surviving this are less than five percent.
“Come on, Staff Sergeant. Don’t go out like this. We need you.” I always talk during CPR. I like to think my patients can hear me. I know I heard Sloan that day and his voice rooted me to this earth.
The nurse answers the phone clipped to her belt and then addresses everyone in the room. “OR three is ready. Prep for transport.”
Good thing I’m already straddling this kid. The crash team tosses the AED on the bed and unhooks everything in record time. I’m still pushing on his chest as we roll into the OR. I don’t get off the bed until the surgeon is ready to make the first cut.
My arms are burning from the exertion as I drop back against the wall outside the OR. The kid’s rank and dark hair pulling me to an even darker place.
As I walk back to my office to fill out the report for this incident, I mull over every word of Sloan and I’s phone conversation.
It’s the first time we’ve talked without it ending in violence — physical or verbal — and it fills me with hope.
I make a cup of coffee from the Keurig on my bookshelf knowing the adrenaline crash is coming.
While I wait for the water to heat up, I open my desk drawer and run my fingers along the patch.
The bloodstained letters that spell ALEXANDER are worn from being rubbed between my thumb and fingers over the years.
I may occasionally lose a patient, but this patch reminds me of the time I saved Sloan’s life, and at the end of the day, I think the trade-off is worth it.
“I hope you don’t mind, I dressed up for the occasion.”
I let out a whistle and twirl Jen around. “I don’t mind at all. You look beautiful.” Dressed to kill in a simple, black cocktail dress, her dark hair flows over her shoulders and her lips are a deep crimson. The heels she’s wearing accentuate her calf muscles and put her ass on display.
“I don’t get to do dinner dates very often so I thought I’d take advantage.”
Her smile begins heating my blood.
“Perhaps I should make this offer more frequently then.” Watch it, Blackwell.
Jen voluntarily loops her arm through mine as I hold the door to Ruffilo’s open for her. She turns heads as soon as we step into the dimly lit, heavily air-conditioned restaurant.
“Well, Adam does think you’re my boyfriend now.” She nudges me in the side with her elbow without letting go of my arm. Her dress makes me glad I decided to throw on a sport coat for this dinner.
When we’re seated, I order a bottle of my favorite wine and catch Jen’s bemused expression as the waitress turns to leave.
“You don’t like red?” I hedge.
“I don’t like being told what I’ll be drinking with dinner.”
“Ah, yes. Ms. Independent, I remember. My apologies.” I raise my hand to flag another waitress down to correct my grievous error when Jennifer places her hand over mine to stop me.
“I’ll let it slide this once.”
I lean toward her across the table, giving her my undivided attention. “May I ask why you’re so against being taken care of? As a nurse, you spend your days caring for others, but you don’t seem to let others return the favor. Why is that?”
“Going straight for my heart, I see.”
“Going straight for the truth,” I counter, secretly hoping her answer will shed more light on her and Sloan’s relationship.
She takes a sip of her newly poured wine and then dabs her lips with her napkin and tells me about her parents and her lonely childhood, often lacking attention and affection.
“I’m sure I’d be the easiest case Freud ever had.
Wasn’t hugged enough as a child so I started having sex at a young age and I’m more interested in being sought after than I am a long-term commitment.
Which brings me to my commitment issues which stem from distant parents and a fear of my partner casting me aside for someone they like better.
I suppose to allay that fear, I do my best to rely on no one but myself. ”
“Is that why you won’t go public with Sloan?”
“Partly, I guess. Don’t you think it would be humiliating if it ended?
The whole world would know he didn’t find me suitable enough to keep around.
Everyone would comment and throw in their two-sense on our breakup, despite not knowing either of us.
If we keep it casual, then it doesn’t have to get messy and no one gets hurt. ”
I’m surprised she’s opening up to me like this but perhaps it’s easier because of our shared turmoil over a certain guitarist.
I grab a piece of bread out of the basket as the waitress comes over to take our orders.
I wave my empty hand at Jen, indicating for her to go first and she flashes me a smile as she orders her own meal.
Just to ruffle her feathers a little, before I order my main course, I tell the waitress, “We’ll also start with the calamari, please.
” Jen rolls her eyes at me and I can’t help but shoot her a wink.
She’s fun.
Once the waitress is gone, Jen lightly swats at my hand on the table. I almost let her lighten the tone of the evening but I have more questions, so instead of holding her hand in place on mine, I watch her draw her hand back as I start again.
“And would you say things between you and he are currently not messy?”
She stares at me as she drains her glass. I’ve got the bottle uncapped and am ready to refill it as soon as she sets it down.
“I think it’s rapidly approaching messy. I’ll admit, it seems to be getting there much faster with your arrival.”
I jerk back like she slapped me. “Jen, I certainly didn’t mean to cause problems between you and Sloan.
Our history is strife with messy situations.
My only small sliver of a hope was to get back on even footing with my once best friend.
” She has to know that despite Sloan and I’s complications, as well as my less-than-ideal attraction to her, I had no intentions of making things more complicated for the two of them.
“I know. The problem is I think he wants you and I think he’s mad about that, so he’s clinging to me.
He asked me to be exclusive with him but only after I told him I’d kissed you.
You see, if I’m honest, I’m falling for him but I’m also attracted to you…
and I think he fell for you a long time ago even though he’s attracted to me. The question is what about you?”
I swallow so loudly I expect the people at the next table to look over at us. She thinks Sloan’s in love with me? Jesus. What about me, indeed.
“Perhaps we could get to a point where we’re all friends. I’m well aware of Sloan’s… preferences, but I don’t share them. So, it would bring me a lot of joy to support the two of you in any way I can. I’m just happy to have gotten a second chance at connecting with him.”
Saved by the squid.
Our server delivers the dish of calamari, and I easily transition us into talking about our respective hospitals and then spend the remainder of dinner answering her questions and trying to sell her on joining me.
We really could use the help and I work with a great group of people.
“Polly is really looking forward to meeting you next week. It can’t hurt to know your options, right? ”
Lucas Blackwell, you’re a fucking idiot.