Nick
Ithrow my truck into park and stare through the windshield at the hospital. It's barely six o’clock, but the sky is black. Ice glistens across the roads and walkways as the temperature continues to plummet.
Keeping my engine on, I place a video call to Tiffany as I continue getting ready for the partial shift I'm covering. It rings once before the biggest smile flashes across the screen—a smile with a brand-new gap in the middle of it.
“Hey, partner! What happened to your tooth?”
Grady giggles, suddenly bashful as he pushes up his glasses. Tiffany whispers from somewhere offscreen for him to show me. Hooking his fingers into the corners of his mouth, he pulls his lips apart and leans closer. The camera loses focus, turning the gap into a blurry little smudge on my screen.
“Tell him what happened, baby,” Tiffany instructs, a cloud of smoke wafting across the screen.
Grady lets go of his mouth. “I was eating corn, and it just came out, but I didn't swallow it because I felt something hard. Mommy said to spit it out.”
“Good thing you did.” I grin, swiping on another layer of deodorant. Even after a long, hot shower, I swear I can still smell the deer blind on me.
“Uh-huh. And guess what. Mommy said we're gonna put my tooth under my pillow tonight before I go to sleep.”
“What? Under your pillow?” I tease. “Why?”
He scoffs, throwing his hands up. “For the Tooth Fairy, silly!”
“Ohhh, the Tooth Fairy.” I nod like it finally makes sense. “Man, you've got some connections. Santa last week, now the Tooth Fairy.”
“And you wanna know what else?”
“What's that?”
“Dinosaurs lost their teeth, too.” He disappears off camera and returns with a book Santa got him for Christmas.
“Some thero—um—theropods could grow new ones over and over like sharks.” He holds up a picture, but between the crooked camera angle and the glare, I can't make out a damn thing. “See? But humans only do it twice.”
“Ah, luckily the Tooth Fairy only collects human teeth. Dinosaurs would've put her out of business long before you were born.”
Grady dissolves into giggles, and I can't help smiling with him.
Damn, I miss him. We've only been apart for three days, but even a few hours apart feel too long.
“Am I coming to your house tonight?” he asks, hope in his big brown eyes.
“Tomorrow night, partner. And then you remember what Friday is—”
“New Year's Eve!” he shouts.
I chuckle. “That's right, and we'll stay up late and eat pizza. How does that sound?”
His fingers rake back and forth across the short hair regrowth on top of his head. A smile slowly spreads across his face as he rocks in his seat. “Just me and you?”
“Just me and you, partner.” I glance at the clock on the dash. “Alright, Grady, I gotta get inside for work. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Bye, Nick.” He ends the call before I can say anything to him or his mother.
I laugh under my breath and turn off the ignition. The warmth lingers while I zip my coat and snug the scarf around my neck. Flexing my fingers inside my gloves, I grab my work bag from the passenger seat and climb out.
Jesus, it's cold. I speed up my pace to a light jog as I cut across the employee parking lot. It's eerily quiet with only a handful of cars scattered—not unusual during the week after Christmas.
Ice blends into the dark pavement, impossible to see unless the light catches it just right. I don't realize I've stepped onto another patch until my boot slips out from under me. I throw out an arm, catching my balance before I bust my ass.
“Fuck.”
I plant my feet more carefully after that, shortening my stride as I head toward the entrance. The last thing I need is to show up for a favor shift with a broken hip.
A sound stops me midstep.
As my boot settles back onto the ground, I turn back toward the rows of cars behind me. A frigid wind cuts through the lot, carrying nothing but the scrape of bare branches and the constant hum of the city.
My hand tightens around the strap of my bag as I peer through the shadows.
But there's nothing.
I pivot, heading back inside when suddenly, I hear it again—louder this time.
A whimper.
“Hello?” I call out into the darkness.
The crying intensifies followed by a ragged gasp.
Someone's in trouble.
I could go inside and grab security, but every second I spend finding someone is another second this person might not have.
“It's alright. I'm a doctor.” My voice echoes. “I want to help you. Can you come out?”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I pull out my pocket knife, keeping it low against my thigh while I follow the frantic breathing through the rows of cars.
Finally, a sob breaks through.
“Help me. Please …”
My work bag slips from my shoulder as I turn around, searching the lot for any sign of movement. “Where are you?”
“I'm here.”
I take off toward her voice, nearly losing my footing again on another patch of ice. My hand catches the side of a car, and I push off, following her cries until movement between two vehicles catches my eye.
A woman is on her knees, folded forward toward the pavement. She looks up at me, her face swollen from tears.
“Please help me,” she whimpers. “I fell, and I d-dropped my phone, and …” Her voice is lost to her cries. “It hurts so bad.”
“Don't move.” I drop my bag and carefully lower into a squat, keeping enough distance not to startle her. “I'm a doctor. I'm going to help you, okay?”
She nods through another sob, shifting just enough for me to get a better look at her.
Fuck.
Beneath her coat, her belly strains against her shirt, round and unmistakably pregnant. My eyes drop lower, and my stomach clenches. Blood has soaked through the front of her pants, spreading down the insides of her thighs and onto the pavement beneath her knees.
Every thought in my head snaps into place.
“How far along are you?”
“Thirty-five weeks.” Her trembling hand moves toward her abdomen, but she stops short of touching it, curling forward instead. “It just hurts so badly.”
“I'm getting us some help, okay?” The operator answers. “This is Dr. Crawford. Page an OB emergency to Guest Lot A at the front entrance.” I glance at the woman. “And tell me who's covering OB tonight.”
There's a brief pause.
“Dr. Tatum Erikson is on.”
I huff out a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” I hang up and immediately pull up Tatum's number.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey, you. I was just looking at pics of that seven-point—”
“I just paged an OB emergency.”
“What?” Something rustles abruptly in the background. “Where? What's going on?”
“I'm outside with a patient, thirty-five weeks. She fell directly on her abdomen, and she's bleeding with constant pain.”
“Shit.” Her voice sharpens immediately. “You think she's abrupting?”
I look at the woman curled forward on her knees, sobs tearing through her.
“Yeah. I do.”
“Okay. I'm gonna have them open an OR and get a team ready for us. If anyone gets there before me, do not take her through the ER. We'll bypass it.”
“Got it.”
“I'm on my way down.” There's a brief pause. “Hey, do you know the patient's name?”
“Uh, hold on.” I lower the phone and shift closer to the woman. “Ma'am, what's your name?”
She drags in a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out between sobs.
“Rachel. Rachel Barnett.”