Chapter Five Jase #2
“When is the last time you ate, dear?” asks the nurse, throwing me a concerned glance.
She shrugs again.
This woman is not what I expected. Not haughty or impatient. Nor rude and demanding.
She’s… sweet.
Or maybe she hit her head so hard that it knocked a new personality into her.
And that’s when two people dressed to the nines—two people who can only be the parents of this sweet, wide-eyed woman—sweep into the room like a cold front.
Her father is a stoic-faced man with a steel spine and sharp jaw. Her mother has a smile so tight that it looks downright uncomfortable.
Behind them, the groom stalks into the room with a huff of impatience.
“—how hard is it to answer a simple question?” he’s muttering at the nurse who showed them here.
Even though every cell in my body is screaming for me not to, I quickly back away from her bedside.
Nobody pays any attention to me, my uniform announcing me as nothing more than the staff. Unlike Brielle, I instantly feel like I am beneath them in their minds.
“What the hell happened?” the groom snaps at his bride-to-be.
“Smoke inhalation and a possible concussion,” the nurse answers sternly. “She’s stabilizing.”
“I didn’t ask you,” he scoffs. “I’m talking to my fiancée.”
I scoff and step forward again. “And your fiancée really shouldn’t be speaking too much. Her throat—”
“Move,” he barks, sneering as I come to stand between him and Brielle.
“No,” I say, and the room goes still.
Her parents blink, as if nobody has ever dared to say that word in their presence before.
The groom steps closer. “Do you even know who I am?”
Before I can help myself, I snort. It’s the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard. The kind of thing you’d only hear in bad movie scripts.
“Actually,” I say. “I don’t.”
The man narrows his eyes. I’ve got a few inches and at least a couple dozen pounds of muscle on him. Not that I’m the sort of guy who enjoys resorting to physical intimidation, given that my aforementioned hockey days are far behind me, but still… sometimes it’s the only thing that works.
And, just as expected, there is the faintest flicker of uncertainty in the man’s eyes. It’s gone again quickly, though, and then he’s puffing up his chest.
“I am Richard Montgomery,” he says, as if that means anything to me. “You don’t tell me no. This is my wedding day. My bride. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Rich…” sighs Brielle behind me, but nothing else follows. I glance over my shoulder to confirm that she hasn’t passed out. She’s lucid, but only barely.
I turn back to the asshole and lift an eyebrow. “My name is—”
“That’s not what I asked,” snaps Richard.
I raise both of my brows, letting the snark wash right past me. “How about a simpler answer, then? I’m the guy who carried her out of a burning building. Where were you?”
He flushes slightly. “It’s not my fault she didn’t follow the evacuation protocol.”
Brielle’s mother—at least, I think that’s who this other woman is—purses her lips. It’s not necessarily in disapproval at her almost-son-in-law’s words. More than anything, she seems annoyed by the tedium of this altercation.
“This is not the point,” she sighs. “The entire ceremony is ruined. Guests are scattered. The press is having a field day. And now my daughter is lying in a hospital bed like a tragic victim.”
She flinches at the word victim, like it disgusts her.
The nurse steps in, chiming in from where she hovers at the periphery with a clipboard in hand. “Perhaps we could move this conversation elsewhere?”
Her mother rounds on her, hands on hips. “You are completely overstepping. This is a private matter that concerns my daughter. Why would we go elsewhere?”
“Ma’am, at the moment, she’s my patient,” she responds with impressive patience.
With all of their attention temporarily on the nurse, I spare another look toward Brielle. Her eyes are already on me, low-lidded and hazy. There are tears swimming at the corners, though, and I’m certain it’s not the aftereffects of all that smoke.
It’s definitely not my place to jump to all these conclusions, but I think it’s pretty obvious that this is not a happy family. Nor was this ever meant to be a truly happy wedding. Or a happy marriage for poor Brielle.
No, this is something else entirely.
But, the fact of the matter is that it’s also none of my business. No matter how lovely this woman is, and no matter how instantly charmed I am by her, it is not part of my duty to intervene now.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur to her. “I have to go.”
She frowns at me, but there is no accusation in her eyes. Instead, there’s a more disturbing sentiment there. Something like dull acceptance.
While I want nothing more than to stick around and make sure that she’s okay, I have to remind myself that I don’t actually know this woman. I don’t know any of these people. I don’t know what’s going on here.
And, again, I did my job. I told her I wasn't going to hand her off to anyone.
But I said that in an ambulance, before I knew what was waiting for her at the other end of the ride.
Protocol doesn't bend for promises made in the back of a rig, and staying here — planted at the bedside of a stranger, inserting myself into whatever this family drama is — isn't something I can justify on duty hours.
Max is waiting. My shift isn't over. I don't belong in this room.
The only thing I can actually give her is a way to reach us if she needs it.
Still, it’s not in my nature to completely abandon people.
So, with everyone’s attention still on the nurse, I slip my hand into my back pocket and pull out a small information card for our station.
She clocks the movement right away and, moving faster than I expected her capable of in her current state, swipes it from my outstretched fingers and deftly hides it in the mess of tulle that makes up her tattered gown.
At the same time, we look over at her groom, her parents, and the nurse attempting to take a stand. By the time their attention drifts back over the hospital bed, my hands have returned to my sides and I have taken a step away.
It’s not enough, but at least I’m not leaving her with nothing.
“I’ll see myself out,” I murmur.
The nurse and I share a long look before I slip out of the room and make my way out of the hospital.
With no transport at my disposal, I opt to hail a cab back to the station, and by the time I return, the engine is once again parked in the bay and post-emergency protocol is in place as our paltry staff gets to work cleaning and checking the equipment.
I find Max leaning against the table in the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at the doorway like he’s been waiting for me to walk through it for the past hour.
Which, knowing him, he probably has. The guy has insane focus. As evidence by his earlier cleaning habits.
Halting in my tracks, I simply stare at him and wait for whatever comes next.
“You shouldn’t have gone in alone,” he says.
I shrug. “Yeah, I know.”
“And then you personally brought her to the hospital?”
“Yes. But—”
“So, in general, you completely ignored protocol.”
“Not completely, Max.” I run a hand through my hair, letting out a long exhale as all the adrenaline from the past couple of hours fades away. “I made sure that a civilian received proper medical attention.”
Max rubs his forehead. “Jase… fuck. You can’t pull this shit, though.”
Evan wanders in behind me, clearly having overheard everything so far. “He’s got a hero complex, Cap.”
I shoot him a look. “I don’t.”
“You do, dude,” Evan says. “Max gets an authority complex. I get a charming complex. You get a dumbass hero complex. It’s fine, we all have our—”
“Shut up, Evan.” Max mutters. “Please.”
Unfortunately, I know he’s right. I know I didn’t need to listen to her demands to be kept away from her groom, as futile as it was in the end.
I also know I shouldn’t be thinking about the way she looked at me like I was the first safe person she’d met in years. Or ever.
I lean against the counter and try to shake it all out of my head.
It doesn’t go away, though.
Something is wrong, something deeper than bridal nerves.
And now she’s surrounded by people who don’t even seem to see her as a person. People who didn’t even ask her if she was okay when they entered that hospital room.
I rub my face with both hands, trying to stop replaying the look she gave me when she swiped the information card out of my hand.
Max is still staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. I mean it.
He closes his eyes, sighing long and low. “Listen. You probably saved her life, so… let’s agree to never let it happen again. We follow protocol, Thibodeau.”
“I know. Won’t happen again.”
“Good.” Max sighs again, then straightens up and moves toward the door. “I need to go do some paperwork.”
When he’s gone, Evan snorts softly.
“Well, that was refreshing,” he says, coming over to pat my shoulder. “Usually, I’m the one getting yelled at.”