Chapter 4
Chapter Four
FLORENCE
I’m taking my break on a regular Tuesday morning when another full vial of blood is placed on the staffroom table in front of me. When I turn, Cam is perched on the arm of one of the sofas, grinning back at me.
‘Don’t tell me your thyroid patient is back?’ I say, closing greedy fingers around the plastic tube.
Cam laughs. ‘Nah, I’ve got the trainees practising taking blood from each other.’ He straightens a twist in his lanyard before looking back at me with a cheeky little grin. ‘I’ve had three already.’
‘You’re incorrigible,’ I say, but it doesn’t stop me from popping off the top or from downing the whole thing. Cam just shrugs, making no move to leave. ‘Are you bribing me again?’
He throws up a hand in mock offence. ‘Firstly, that wasn’t bribery, it was encouragement.’
‘Agree to disagree.’
‘And secondly,’ he goes on, ignoring me, ‘I was just bringing you a gift.’
I snort a laugh. ‘Four whole millilitres of B negative.’
He shakes his head, the smile back on his face. ‘That wasn’t the gift. That was just an aperitif.’
Ok, now I’m intrigued. ‘Go on.’
‘We had a note on the system from the lab,’ he says, popping up off the sofa and rounding the table, pulling up a chair next to me.
‘At first it seemed like a classic lab error, maybe a storage failure. But when the tech looked more closely, they found there was something strange going on with the red blood cells. They referred it to George, and he did some further tests on it.’
George Kennedy is one of the men who fought with Cam in the First World War. Now he manages the lab that processes our samples. He weeds out anything suspicious, you know, just in case any mortals start poking around and asking too many questions.
‘But this one has stumped him,’ Cam says, reaching a hand up to scratch his head through his mess of curls.
‘He doesn’t remember ever seeing blood behave like this.
The patient presented with vague symptoms: palpitations, fatigue, an occasional rash.
Nothing to point in any obvious direction, but there’s definitely something off about it.
Maybe an atypical anaemia? He’s asked us if we can repeat the sample and send it directly to him. ’
I nod. I can’t help myself; I’m invested. ‘Ok, so the mystery is the gift?’
Cam grins at that. ‘No,’ he says. ‘The gift is who it is.’
He turns his phone screen so that I can read the patient info.
QUINN, Joe
It feels as if someone is squeezing my throat. ‘Is it him?’ I ask, trying to come off casual. ‘The guy from the vampire bar?’
‘Maybe,’ he says with a slow nod. ‘Same name, and the age is about right.’
‘And I saw him in the waiting area last week,’ I mutter to myself. I only remember that Cam has insanely good hearing when I see him smirk. ‘What?’
He shakes his head, feigning innocence. ‘Nothing.’
It’s obviously not nothing, but I’ll let him be. ‘Are you going to contact him?’
‘Thought you might like to do it,’ he says, eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘It’ll give you the chance to flirt with him again.’
I rear back. ‘I was not flirting with him.’
If I’m being really honest with myself, was I? Probably, yes.
Am I going to admit that to Cam? Absolutely not.
He considers me, one hand rubbing at the stubble on his chin. ‘He was flirting with you.’
Something flip-flops in my chest at the idea of it, but I school my expression into something cool and even. He’s human, I remind myself. And humans die.
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ I scoff. ‘From what I hear, he’d flirt with a brick wall.’
Cam sits back in his chair, his thumb smoothing over his stubble on one side of his lip. ‘He didn’t flirt with me.’
I level him with a look and he shrugs unapologetically.
It’s kind of nice, though, seeing him like this.
Particularly after him having to hide half of himself for so many years.
It’s only in the last few decades that he’s embraced his final form, someone who – in his own words – has too much love to give to confine himself to any one gender.
Even so, the idea of him flirting with Quinn makes something tighten uncomfortably in my chest. Ridiculous, I know, given my stance on humans and the fact that I’ve literally met Quinn once.
‘Aren’t you even curious?’ Cam says, his voice low, brows pinched.
I huff out a breath. ‘About what?’
‘Come on, Florence,’ he says, eyes softening. ‘He’s an absolute dead ringer for Josiah – practically has his name, too. You must wonder if…’
‘If what?’
‘If it’s the universe giving you a second chance.’
I snort a breath, somewhere close to a laugh. ‘Cam, you and I have been alive long enough to know that the universe is nothing if not a cruel bastard.’
He shrugs again, his lips pulling into a smile. ‘Maybe.’
For a man of science, Cam sometimes surprises me with his fluffiness. I can’t fully believe he’s suggesting such a thing. Don’t get me wrong, I obviously wish that could be true, but I can’t see any world in which it is. And I’m definitely not prepared to risk having my heart broken all over again.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to miss out on this particular medical mystery. Or a little illicit flirting on the side. I just won’t tell Cameron that.
‘Fine,’ I say, holding out my hand. ‘Give me the damn phone.’
Cam hands over his work phone with a delighted squeal, the kind of sound that isn’t at all befitting an ancient creature of the night. I tap the patient info section in Quinn’s file and press the call link on his contact details, nervous energy humming through my chest like a heartbeat.
He picks up after three rings, voice rough, like he just woke up. ‘Hello?’
‘Quinn, it’s Florence,’ I say as professionally as I’m able to. Cam tries to suppress a giggle next to me. ‘From the bar.’
I hear the low rumble of Quinn’s laugh. ‘You really didn’t need to clarify. I think you’re overestimating the number of husky-voiced Florences I know.’
I had hoped to limit the flirting while my oldest friend and current boss is failing to act his age next to me, but apparently he’s going there already.
‘I’m calling in a professional capacity,’ I add, hoping that will help my cause. It makes Quinn stop chuckling, at least.
‘Professional?’ he asks, obviously confused.
‘I work at the blood clinic,’ I explain. ‘You came in for a test last week?’
‘Yes?’ His voice is different now. Sharper. Maybe a little worried. It’s a tone I’m used to when dealing with patients, but it’s hitting a little differently coming from him.
‘There’s been an issue with your sample,’ I say, doubling down on the professionalism to avert any rogue feelings. ‘It happens sometimes. It’s possible it was kept for too long before testing or there were contaminants of some kind. We’d like you to repeat the test as soon as possible.’
He makes a noise I can’t quite decipher – something a little strangled. ‘Is that necessary?’
I falter. Three seconds ago he was flirting with me, so I can’t help feeling his words as a rejection. Stupid, I know, but here we are.
‘It’s definitely recommended,’ is what I settle on. This isn’t about me, I remind myself. If Quinn is ill, then it’s only right he should have all the facts.
He’s silent for a while. Five seconds, maybe more. When he finally speaks, I’m more relieved than I should be.
‘Will you be doing the test?’
The vulnerability in his voice is new, and it speaks to a core part of me. It’s instinctive at this point in my life to meet vulnerability with compassion. It’s what’s made me good at my job all these years.
‘If you’d like me to,’ I say softly, and there’s another pause on the line when I do, although I know he’s heard me.
‘Florence,’ he says, his voice quiet and tentative, ‘can I tell you a secret?’
I nod, even though I know he can’t see me. ‘Yes.’
There’s an exhale over the line. ‘I’m not great with blood tests.
Or with blood in general,’ he admits, then pauses a moment like he’s steeling himself to say more.
‘Ok, that’s an understatement. I’m a total baby about it, and I’m worried that you seeing me like that will undermine my masculine charms and cloud your opinion of me. ’
Cam barks out a laugh beside me and I glare at him.
Despite Quinn’s attempt at a joke, his voice was paper thin – so fragile it felt like he could break at any moment.
I see a lot of it in my line of work. A surprising number of people are scared of needles, or of blood, or both.
I’ve been soothing people and dodging blows and holding hands for most of my life.
It doesn’t faze me at all, but I know how embarrassed people can be about their fears, and I am determined with Quinn, as I am with all my patients, to minimise his anxiety as much as possible.
‘We can get one of the other phlebotomists to do it if you’re not comfortable,’ I say, pointing a warning finger at Cam before walking over to the other side of the room. ‘But I promise you I’m very gentle. You’ll barely feel it.’
‘Will you hold my hand?’ he asks. A little humour has crept back into his voice, and I take that as my cue to rib him a little.
‘Oh, good idea,’ I deadpan. ‘I’ll do it one-handed.’
‘Ok, no,’ he replies quickly. ‘I see how that might be a problem.’
‘I mean, I could always suck out your blood and spit it back into the vial?’
He doesn’t reply for a moment, and I worry I’ve taken it too far, but when he does speak, I can tell he’s smiling.
‘Is that extra?’ he quips.
I bite back my own smile. ‘It’s extra painful.’
He laughs then, and it takes me by surprise. He has a great laugh, though I’m a little embarrassed I’ve noticed.
‘Ok, fine,’ he relents. ‘You can do it the regular way.’
‘Great.’ I’m back to businesslike in a moment, pushing those inappropriate feelings deep down inside me, where they belong. ‘Can you do today?’
I hear rustling, like he’s shifting papers around. ‘My shift starts at five, but I can come before that.’ This time his laugh is barely a breath out. ‘Before I have time to talk myself out of it.’
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, even though I know Cam is still watching. ‘Perfect,’ I say. ‘Pop in when you can. I’ll let Denise on reception know I’m expecting you.’
And then I hang up and hold the phone out to Cam, who’s sitting at the table with his chin propped on a loosely clasped fist and an insufferably smug smile on his face.
‘What?’ I ask, but he just shakes his head.
‘Nothing.’
It’s not nothing, but, despite the unexpected shot of blood I’ve just had, I haven’t got the energy to deal with Cam’s relentless optimism. There’s a reason I swore off humans, and one particularly charming bartender isn’t going to change that.
Even if he does bear a striking resemblance to the love of my life.