Chapter Four – Felix
At some point, I crawled into bed next to my patient, too exhausted to care about propriety. Besides, I needed to rest so I could properly care for her.
When I awakened several hours later, it took me a moment to get my bearings, especially with a hot body pressed against mine.
And by hot, I meant in the fucking literal sense. Everything immediately rushed back to me. My patient was burning up with fever.
As I rushed to grab another IV bag and fresh bandages, I weighed my options. She’d probably gotten an infection, which could kill her as quickly as a fucking allergic reaction.
Instead of deciding immediately, I changed the bandages on each of her wounds. Her arm and thigh were healing nicely, better than expected. Thanks to her tattoos, scars would hardly be noticeable. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
If she were mine, I wouldn’t want a daily reminder that gunshots had almost taken her away. On the other hand, if she were mine, I wouldn’t want ink covering an inch of her beautiful skin.
Scowling, I snapped my brows together. She wasn’t mine and never would be. Further, I didn’t want her in any capacity.
Annoyed, I removed the bandages from her shoulder and froze at the pus and blood seeping from an open stitch.
No probably in it. The wound was indeed infected, so I stopped bullshitting and got the penicillin, adding it to her IV line, which was attached to a clothes hanger that hung on a curtain rod.
While I brought medical supplies because all types of emergencies happened, I never expected to need a fucking IV pole. My goddamn mistake.
I only had isopropyl alcohol to disinfect her wound. Only one of the five stitches opened, so I let it be and bandaged her up again, irritated to high fucking heaven. I was used to state-of-the-art medical equipment, not rudimentary supplies that might do more harm than good.
Over the next two days, changing her bandages and monitoring her fever became a careful ritual.
Not wanting her to feel pain and hoping rest would restore her, I administered a half a sedative each day, peeled away the soiled bandages, cleaned the wounds, and winced each time I saw her raw, tender skin.
The blizzard outside hadn’t eased, but inside the fire’s glow flickered against the rough wooden walls, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts.
As the second day bled into the third day, her fever finally broke.
Though she was pale, her breathing was shallow but steady.
I laughed in pure fucking relief. Fuck, I don’t remember the last time I felt such fucking relief.
It felt as if she and I were the last two people on earth and had vanquished other worldly marauders.