Chapter 10
Navy ‘Nay’ Prescott
Lord knows I could’ve used another day off.
It was because for the first time in a long time I was excited about getting home.
My apartment was finally done, and everything had a place.
My couch had been delivered, my bed was finally put together, my stuff that had been in storage was unpacked and I even managed to hang a few pictures on the wall.
It still didn’t quite feel like home yet, but it was mine.
Nobody could pop up with a key, nobody could kick in the door demanding answers, and nobody could tell me what I could or couldn’t do.
That peace alone was worth every dollar I’d spent.
I swiped my badge, pushed through the employee entrance, and headed toward the nurses’ station while tying my hair a little tighter into my ponytail.
“Navy.”
I looked up and smiled. “Morning.”
“Good morning, I need you to float today.”
That smile turned into frown mostly out of curiosity. “Where?”
“ICU.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
Floating wasn’t unusual. Whenever they were short upstairs, they’d pull somebody from the ER. I actually didn’t mind it because ICU was slower than the emergency room, and after the last few shifts I’d had, slower sounded real good right about now.
The charge nurse handed me a folded assignment sheet. “They’re expecting you.”
I thanked her before heading for the elevators.
When the doors opened on the eighth floor, everything immediately felt different because the ER was loud and ICU wasn’t.
The lights were dimmer and nobody was running down the hallway.
There weren’t family members pacing the floor asking every five minutes when the doctor was coming back and the only thing I heard were monitors beeping, ventilators humming, and nurses talking just above a whisper.
Another nurse sitting behind the nurses’ station smiled when she saw me. “You must be Navy.”
I smiled back. “That’s me.”
“Hi, I’m Kendra. I’ll give you the report.”
I set my tea on the counter, pulled out my pen, and listened while she went over my assignment.
A few minutes later I stood outside Room 814 with his chart in my hand, reading over the same lines twice like the words were going to change if I stared long enough.
Marvelous Williams was the twenty-nine-year-old gunshot wound victim who recently had emergency surgery.
So far he was stable, alert, oriented, and annoying according to the little note Kendra had scribbled beside his name, which made me smirk before I caught myself because I had no business smiling at anything connected to him because whether he knew it or not, this man had paid for my whole new beginning.
That thought alone made my stomach drop, and for a few seconds I just stood there listening to the beeping monitors behind his door while trying to remind myself that I was here to do my job. Nothing more and nothing less.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside quietly.
The room was dim, the blinds were halfway closed with a little bit of sunlight reflecting across the floor from them, and the TV mounted on the wall was playing football highlights while Marvelous was awake, sitting up in bed with the blanket pulled to his waist. He had both of his hands on the side of him like he was scared to move too much.
He looked a whole lot different without blood all over him.
His face was still bruised, and his lips were still a little busted, but he had color now.
He was clearly observant too, because the second his eyes landed on me, he looked me up and down like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from.
“Good morning,” I said, walking over to the sink to wash my hands before grabbing a pair of gloves.
He didn’t answer right away. He just kept staring. “I know you,” he finally said, in a rough and scratchy voice.
I dried my hands and turned around with a polite smile. “You probably saw me in the ER.”
“Nah,” he said, shifting a little before pain made him stop moving altogether as he winced in pain, but he tried to play it off like I didn’t see it. “I ain’t probably do nothing. I know I saw you.”
I reached for the vitals machine and rolled it closer to the bed. “Well, you were in a little distress, so I’m surprised you remember anything.”
He looked down at the blood pressure cuff when I wrapped it around his arm, then looked back at me. “You was the one talking slick to me.”
I paused and raised a brow. “Talking slick?”
“Yeah.” He gave me a half grin. “Telling me to stay still like I was yo’ child or something. You wasn’t doing the most, but I still heard you at one point.”
I shook my head and pressed start on the machine. “Sir, you were trying to fight half the trauma team while leaking blood all over my floor. Somebody had to tell you something.”
“My floor?” he repeated, catching that quick. “Damn, you own Jackson?”
“On my shift, yes.” I grabbed the thermometer and held it near his forehead. “Don’t move.”
He stayed still, but that grin didn’t go anywhere. “Whole staff bossy as hell.”
“And you’re alive, so clearly it worked.”
He chuckled, but that little laugh didn’t last long before his whole face frowned up again and his hand went straight to his stomach.
He tried to hide it just like the first time, which made me look at him even harder because men loved doing that.
They could be shot, stabbed, bleeding, laid up in a hospital bed with tubes coming out of them and still wanted to act like pain was a sign of weakness.
“See,” I said, glancing from his face down to the dressing across his abdomen. “That’s why you need to stop laughing.”
“I barely laughed,” he mumbled, still holding his side.
“You should probably take it easy. Your abdomen will feel sore for a while.”
He looked down at himself like he was remembering that part all over again and for the first time since I walked in, that little playful look left his face.
I didn’t say anything right away. I just let the blood pressure cuff finish squeezing his arm while I watched the numbers pop up on the screen.
His pressure looked good, but his heart rate was a little higher than I wanted, but not enough to make me panic.
Considering everything he’d been through, he was doing better than most people would’ve been doing.
I wrote the numbers down and reached for the pulse ox, clipping it onto his finger before looking back at him. “Pain level?”
He didn’t answer right away, and that told me he was about to lie so I lifted my brow. “And don’t give me any tough answers either.”
His eyes fell back on mine, and that grin tried to show up again even though his body clearly wasn’t here for it. “Damn, you don’t trust me?”
“Not with that question, no.”
He slowly shook his head like I was getting on his nerves, but he wasn’t mad. If anything, he looked entertained, which was crazy to me because he was laid up in ICU after almost losing his life and still had enough energy to be charming.
“I’ll say a six,” he finally answered. I gave him a look letting him know I didn’t believe it one bit. “A real six,” he said before I could even ask again.
“Okay.” I wrote it down. “That sounds more believable. Well, your oxygen looks good.”
“That mean I’m doing good?”
I looked over at him. “It means your body is doing what it’s supposed to do right now.”
“Right now?” he repeated, wondering what that was supposed to mean.
“Yes, right now,” I said, typing everything in the system before looking back at him. “You’re still recovering from surgery, however good vitals doesn’t mean you’re clear to move too fast Mr. Williams.”
He stared at me for a second, then looked toward the monitor beside him like he was trying to understand all the numbers flashing across the screen. I could tell he was paying attention.
“How bad was it?” he asked, quieter this time.
I stopped writing for a second before turning my attention back to him. “The vitals?”
He shook his head. “Nah, the surgery. I mean doc came in here talking all that medical terminology bullshit I don’t know nothing about so I’m asking you.”
I could’ve given him the simple nurse answer and said he was stable now and the doctor would go over everything else with him, but the way he was looking at me told me he wasn’t asking just to make conversation. He was trying to put pieces together.
“You lost a lot of blood,” I said carefully.
“They had to take you back pretty fast. I’m not a doctor, but from what I read in your chart, they repaired what needed to be repaired, and you’re stable now.
” That was the best answer that I could give him without overstepping the doctor or talking in medical terminology which he already stated he didn’t understand.
He looked down at himself again and frowned like he was getting mad all over again. “I feel like I got hit by a fucking Mack truck.”
“Well, you did have an accident as well so that contributed to everything else too.”
He smiled again, but he didn’t let it turn into a full laugh this time. “You don’t sugarcoat nothing, huh?”
“I’m a nurse, not a baker.” I smiled.
He lowered his head for a second, and I could tell he wanted to laugh but decided against it this time.
I reached over and checked his IV site, making sure there wasn’t any swelling or redness around the tape before following the line up to the pump.
The medicine was running fine, his fluids were good, and for the most part, he looked better than a man who had almost died had any business looking.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked, pulling the blanket back just enough to check the edges of the dressing across his abdomen without exposing him too much.
He watched my hands instead of my face. “It ain’t too bad.”
“That’ doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Williams.”
“Mr. Williams?”
I looked down at the chart again. “That’s what the chart says.” I told him. I then looked at his chart in the screen.
“My name Marvelous.”
“I know.”
“So why you calling me Mr. Williams?”