Chapter 02 - Cat
Cat
I walk away from the exam room and clench my jaw so hard that it hurts.
It takes all my self-restraint not to slam the door.
This stupid, stupid woman. Just strolling into my ER with twitching fingers and those full lips turning pale as if it were just any other day.
How she remained standing is beyond me. Her body should’ve folded.
I need to have a serious conversation with the triage nurse.
She should have seen it the moment Mary walked in.
?Cómo? I blink.
The moment the patient walked in.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that my hands are hurting, and when I gaze down, I see that I’ve balled them up into tight fists.
My eyebrow lifts. Where is this reaction coming from?
I don’t even know her. She is just a random patient—Mary—who walked in here having a hypoglycemic episode.
It really is any other day, at least for me.
“Cat? Hold up!”
Carmen’s melodic voice pulls me straight from my thoughts, and my head snaps sideways toward the sound.
She bounces toward me with that ridiculously light step of hers while her worried gaze takes me in.
I take a deep breath and will myself to relax.
This is nonsense anyway. There is literally no reason for me to have such a visceral reaction to a woman I don’t even know.
Maybe my own sugar is low, or there is something in her pheromones that my brain responded to.
Whatever it is, there is a scientific reason for it.
If there is a scientific reason for it, it means it will pass.
“Hermosa, what’s wrong? Didn’t you hear me?”
Her forehead is crinkled, and she narrows her eyes. I so don’t have time for this. If Carmen hears even the slightest sliver of this…this…confusion, she will haunt me until she gets to the bottom of it. And there is no bottom to it because there is nothing happening here.
“Might I remind you that we are at work, Nurse Rodrigues,” I snarl while staring her down.
“Ay, Cat, must you always be like that?”
I hold her gaze and slowly raise one eyebrow.
Carmen just rolls her eyes and shrugs. Good.
She is like a sister to me, but she needs to know that there are boundaries at work that cannot be crossed.
Calling me hermosa is one of them. I am the Chief of Trauma, her direct boss, and that title should be respected.
If she wants to hassle me, she can try it outside the hospital.
“But seriously, Doctor Durand,” she emphasizes the title with a smirk. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, Carmen. As a matter of fact, I have a patient to check on.”
“Oh?” She instantly tilts her head, scanning the hallway for trauma cases. “I didn’t hear about any trauma coming in?”
“It was an acute case in the waiting area,” I rebuke with an edge to my tone.
I feel a slight flush creeping up my neck and curse myself instantly. Carmen sees it before I can walk away, and she instantly grabs my wrist.
“Do tell, doctor.”
“Tell you what, exactly?” I ask, but I already know she isn’t going to back off.
“Oh, come on, Cat. Is she cute? What is she like? Shall I check her chart? Can I?”
“That’s quite enough, Carmen.” My hiss comes out sharp, and she flinches slightly. Fuck. “She is a patient, and I am her treating physician.”
“As if that has stopped people before,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes.
I bore my gaze into hers and tilt my head toward her ever so slightly. She swallows even before I speak. My voice is low and laced with ice.
“I am not people, Carmen. I have to set an example, ?comprendes?”
She flinches again and nods. I hold her gaze for a moment longer before briefly dipping my chin and turning on my heel. There is a patient waiting for my care, and it is in my best interest to get this woman out of the hospital ASAP.
I feel Carmen’s eyes burn into my back, and I already know that this won’t be the last of it. She is like a dog with a bone. I just have to make sure there isn’t a bone for her to chew on. No. There isn’t one, because there is nothing happening here. Then why are you walking around aimlessly?
The thought makes me stop dead in my tracks. What am I doing? Fleeing that room because Mary—no, the patient—stared at me a little too intently, walking the corridors like an attending on her first rounds, snapping at my best friend. None of this is me.
The muscle in my jaw twitches, so I close my eyes and inhale deeply. In for five, out for seven. After a few deep breaths, my mind quiets, and my sanity returns to me. Like I told Carmen, I have a job to do.
I walk over to the triage desk and clock the nurse behind it.
She is still typing away at the computer, disregarding anyone who turns to her.
This behavior is completely unacceptable in my ER.
I don’t tolerate this level of incompetence and disrespect.
It isn’t only highly unprofessional, but it can also seriously harm people. It almost harmed Mary.
“?Basta!” I growl, more at my own thought than at the nurse, but she looks up anyway.
She blinks at me with a blank stare before recognition dawns on her. Her face contorts for a moment, and she swallows hard. Her mouth opens, and her tongue darts over her lips as her eyes scan my face. I exhale sharply through my nose and clench my fists.
“Doctor Durand, what can I—”
“What is your job description for today?”
“I’m… what?”
“Your job description,” I hiss, unable to keep the edge from my tone.
“To assess all patients coming in and determine the urgency of their condition, Doctor.”
“And how do you determine said urgency if you can’t even muster the decency to look at them, Nurse…” I glance at her name tag. “…Wilder.”
“Doctor, I assure you there is nothing wrong with my assessments,” she fires back, her own voice sharp now.
I raise my eyebrow at her and quickly drop my gaze down, then up again. She pales slightly and shudders, but she keeps her head high. A part of me respects that. It is fitting for a nurse in her position. Now, if only we could get the rest up to standard.
“Roughly ten minutes ago, a woman came to your desk. Blonde hair, about this high.” I hold my hand up next to my shoulder. “What were her symptoms?”
“Doctor, you can’t be serious. I see so many people. You can’t expect—”
“Her symptoms.”
The nurse scowls at me. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow. She lifts her chin and grits her teeth.
“I don’t recall.”
“Pale skin and lips, tremors, perspiration, sluggish speech, rapid breathing. What does this tell you?”
“That could be a ton of things, Doctor.”
“No, it couldn’t. If you had bothered to raise your eyes and look at her, you would have seen that Mary was clearly hypoglycemic.”
Now the nurse blinks at me.
“Mary?”
Fuck.
“Doctor, if you feel I mistreated a personal connection, we could—”
“You didn’t,” I snap. “She was a patient in acute need of care. You disregarded that.”
“I did no such thing.” Her voice rises, and she pushes herself out of the chair, her chest heaving. “You might be the Chief, Doctor, but I still know what I am doing. I did not misassess any pat—”
“You didn’t assess her at all. That’s the problem, Nurse Wilder. Now sit back down, do your job, and if I ever catch you disregarding patients again, any patient, you won’t be working my ER anymore. Do I make myself clear?”
The nurse grits her teeth so hard I can hear her molars grind against each other. She lets out a loud, sharp breath through her nose and glares at me before she finally sits down.
“Yes, Doctor.”
I take no satisfaction in her confirmation, but simply nod in return. This reprimand is enough of a warning, and writing her up isn’t going to help any of us. My message was received loud and clear.
By the time I pass through the sliding doors to the exam rooms, my hands have unclenched and my thoughts have calmed.
This wasn’t about the patient at all. It was simply frustration with the incompetence of my staff and my fear of how this reflects on our hospital, which is probably the reason for my confusion.
And it has nothing to do with those piercing blue eyes that looked right into your soul.
I feel my pulse flutter right before I open the door. If it weren’t for that extremely low reading, I would have left it to the nurse to wrap things up. But I can’t risk that. Especially not after what happened at the desk.
I brace myself and step back inside the room, where, as soon as her eyes find mine, she flashes me that incredulous, taunting smile.
A smile that makes my breath stutter. I swallow and march back to the screen to hide it.
A soft huff behind me tells me that I might not have been as successful as I had hoped.
“How are you feeling?” I ask in a surprisingly steady voice.
“Like I could walk for another hour or two.”
I instantly spin around, my eyes already blazing. She is grinning, and she gently bites the corner of her bottom lip. Seeing her teeth scrape the skin sends a shiver down my spine and goosebumps up my arms. Joder… She sees it. Of course she does.
I monitor her glucose again, press a juice box into her hand, and sit down to watch her drink it. She scowls at me as she sips. When she’s finished, she squeezes the package triumphantly and flashes me a proud smile.
“Do you tend to make a habit of punishing your body?”
Her smile falters as I raise my eyebrow, and she swallows hard. For a moment, she seems to be frozen in place, but then raises her chin and huffs out a sarcastic laugh through her nose.
“Funny how you call it punishing when I call it upkeep.”
Her eyes sparkle again, almost daring me to disagree. The doctor in me bristles. I know some patients disregard their bodies’ needs because they don’t care. But there is something different about the way Mary calls it upkeep. It’s not callousness underneath, it’s fear.
“Eat regularly,” I say in a flat voice. “And monitor more often. You are harming yourself by letting your body crash.”
She blinks once and then shrugs.
“It’s not that simple.”
The statement comes out soft but clear, and I instantly search her face. She has dropped her gaze, and there is a soft frown that disappears almost instantly again.
“It is,” I say, stepping a little closer. My nearness is enough to make her eyes meet mine. I hold her gaze for a beat before I continue. “You just have to allow yourself to be taken care of.”
The tiniest shudder pulses through Mary’s body, and there is a tight silence between us. For a brief moment, I can see straight through her bravado, but before it can touch anything, her smile slides back into place.
“Well, Doctora,” she teases, and my traitorous body instantly responds to it. “I will do my very best not to die.”
She flashes me another stupid grin, and I feel it hit my core. Stupid freaking pheromones. I grit my teeth and nod.
“You do that. Come back in three days for a recheck.”
Her eyes widen, and she huffs out another soft laugh.
“I didn’t even know ERs did that. I thought you just patched people up and sent them off to their GP. It almost seems like you actually care about me, Doctor Durand.”
I roll my eyes, even though she has a point.
“You were severely hypoglycemic and are at risk of recurrence. I am not taking any risks.” I lean in a bit closer, bringing my lips close to her ear. “Come back within three days, or I will flag your file and have you admitted the next time you walk through those doors.”
Her breath hitches, and I have to fight to keep my own lips from curling up. I turn around without giving her another glance and stride out of the room, leaving the door open behind me.