Chapter 12
SAGE
I’m back in my happy place, run off my feet, caring for patients in the emergency department. Okay, so my happy place is most people’s version of hell, but still.
It’s a relief to be working. The hospital is so desperate for staff, they’re more than happy to have me full time until I go on maternity leave.
And Brady is another, albeit more surprising, source of relief.
He’s been kind, caring, and considerate of my space, but also attentive.
As promised, he’s texted daily to check in, occasionally sending funny pregnancy memes.
He found a website that measures the size of the fetus using different random items, and sends me updates using that.
His favourite is apparently the fruit and vegetable size chart. It’s kind of adorable.
“Sage, new peds patient coming in. Asthma exacerbation.” My charge nurse Roberto gives me a look. “Parents are both here, but not exactly on the same team, if you get what I’m saying. They’ve already been told by triage to keep their voices down.”
I nod at him. “Got it.”
Arguing parents. Fun.
That was, I suppose, the one benefit to my bio dad wanting nothing to do with me. Mom never had to fight for what was best for me, at least not with someone else trying to parent me.
Sure enough, the second my eight-year-old patient is shown into the room, the parents start talking over each other, trying to explain what happened.
I hold up both hands to shut them up. “Let’s talk one at a time please, while I get Molly hooked up to some monitors and hopefully get her feeling more comfortable.
” I make quick work of attaching an oximeter to her finger and listening to her chest, trying to tune out the grumbling mutters between the parents.
There’s a lot of noise in the girl’s lungs, and not the good kind.
I try to give her a reassuring smile as I glance at the monitor, but when I see her oxygen saturation level is only ninety-one percent, I know it’s time to act.
“Alright honey, let’s slide this oxygen into your nose, and I’m going to get you some medicine to help you breathe.”
I turn to the parents. “Do either of you have her inhalers with you?”
“No, that’s the whole freaking problem! He forgot her inhaler at home and took her to the park,” the mother spits out, glaring at her husband. “You know her asthma gets triggered by activity, especially when it’s cold out. How the hell did you forget?”
“One time, Susan. One time I forget, and she has an attack, and you’re acting like I did it on purpose!”
“You might as well have, look at what happened! My God, could you be more careless? She’s your daughter. I just—”
“Okay,” I interrupt before things can escalate. “What does she use for a rescue inhaler?”
As soon as I have confirmation that it’s the regular medication we dispense in the ER, I run to get it.
When I return, Molly’s parents are still arguing.
I administer the medicine, both an oral steroid and inhaler, and monitor her vitals while watching her face.
She’s staring down at the gurney, picking at the stiff white sheet.
My heart breaks for her, having to sit here, sick, and listen to her parents bicker like this.
Not that I blame her mom. I’d be pretty pissed too if my kid’s father forgot something as important as an inhaler. Asthma is no joke, and a kid Molly’s age can’t be expected to be responsible for remembering it all the time.
At least they got her here in time. The medication is already helping, as the monitor shows her oxygen levels are slightly higher. It’s a good sign, but she’s not out of the woods. I’ll be monitoring her closely for a while to see if she needs more treatment.
As soon as I’m satisfied she’s stable, I turn to face her parents. “The medicine will help open her airways and hopefully get her breathing under control. If you need to have any further discussion about what happened, I’ll respectfully ask that you take it outside. Molly needs to rest.”
“I’m not leaving my daughter.” Molly’s mother glares at her father.
“I’ll go,” he says, his voice clipped. “Molls, I’m sorry. Hope you feel better soon, kid.” He leans over and gives his daughter a quick hug before leaving the room.
As soon as he’s gone, the mom sinks down in a chair. “God, honey, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Molly’s little voice says, breathless but clear. “I shouldn’t have run so fast.”
Her mom leans forward and grasps her daughter’s hands, her eyes shining with tears. “No, baby, you did nothing wrong. You’re allowed to have fun and run with your friends. Your dad and I are the ones who should make sure we have what you need to be healthy.”
“I’ll just be at the desk if you need anything, but Molly really should try to rest,” I say softly, touching the older woman’s shoulder. I slip out of the room and exhale.
Would Brady remember an inhaler if our kid needed one? Would he respond to their cries and give them comfort, or would he get annoyed and ignore them? Would he keep them safe, make sure they’re loved, and not leave their side when they’re sick or in pain?
I couldn’t imagine walking away from my child when they’re in a hospital bed like Molly’s father did.
With Molly stable and settled, and no more new patients for the time being, the last hour of my shift starts to drag. I’m seated at the nursing station, chatting with one of my new colleagues, when another comes in bearing a tray of coffee cups.
“Ugh, it’s pouring out there,” she complains, setting the tray down before moving to the break room to put away her belongings.
Great. I’ve got to walk back to the hotel tonight, and I don’t have a jacket with me.
“Welcome to Vancouver Island,” another nurse mutters. “Where the only predictable thing is how unpredictable the weather can be.”
I smile along with the others, then go to open up a transit app and see what time the bus will come once I’m off, when I see that a text message came through an hour ago.
brADY: Hey, how’s your day going? Baby is the size of a small apple by now. Cool huh.
brADY: Oh I read an article about ginger for nausea. So I grabbed some ginger candies, I can give them to you next time I see you. Maybe they’ll help.
“Okay, who’s got you looking all mushy and happy? Baby daddy?”
I glance up and see Heather, one of the physiotherapists, leaning against the desk.
She caught me touching my stomach more than once, and I confessed my pregnancy to her.
“Oh, um, yeah, but I wasn’t…” I trail off because damn it, I am smiling.
“Yeah, his name is Brady. He was telling me the baby’s the size of a small apple. ”
Heather drops into the chair next to me and props her head on her hand. “That’s freaking adorable. I love that he’s excited for you. How long have you two been together?”
Oh shit.
I’m saved from answering that very awkward question by someone calling Heather’s name.
“Talk later, ’kay?” she says, hopping up and heading off toward the nurse that needs her help.
Breathing a mental sigh of relief, I glance back down at my phone to the additional texts that have come in from Brady.
brADY: I don’t mean to bother you again while you’re working but do you have a way to get home tonight? The weather’s pretty nasty out there.
SAGE: Hey, that’s cool about the ginger. And I’m fine, the place I’m staying now isn’t too far from the hospital. I can take the bus if the weather’s really gross.
I go to pocket my phone when it vibrates with another message. Frowning, I pull it out. It’s Brady again.
brADY: Let me drive you home.
My gut reaction is to refuse. I don’t want to become dependent on him or give him the impression he can just waltz in and take over my life.
SAGE: No really, it’s okay. The bus is fine.
brADY: Sage, please? I’d feel better if I gave you a ride. I’m done at the stadium, I can be there in twenty minutes.
SAGE: I’m not off for another hour.
brADY: I’ll wait.
brADY: Just say yes.
I chew on my lip as I stare at the messages. I don’t really have a reason to say no. If I’m serious about letting this man into my life, I shouldn’t be so stubborn about a ride home.
SAGE: Okay, fine. Thanks, a ride would be nice.
brADY: See you soon. Text me when you’re walking out and I’ll pull up out front.
Sure enough, an hour later, when I walk out the sliding glass doors of the ER, he’s waiting with an open umbrella.
“Hey, where’s your coat?” he asks as we hurry to his car.
It’s such a dad thing to say, which, given what he told me about being the guardian to his siblings, makes my heart melt just a little.
“Forgot it today.”
As soon as we’re both in the car, he turns to me. “You forgot your coat and you were gonna turn down a ride? Why?”
There’s that dad tone again. I try to hide my smile, and I can tell the moment he realizes that. His brows draw together in a frown. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you’re looking at me strangely. What is it?”
I can’t hold it in any longer.
“You just sound like a dad, that’s all.”
His expression relaxes as he leans his head back against the seat and lets out a soft chuckle. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s cute.”
There’s a lot about Brady that’s cute, if I’m being honest with myself.
“But you really didn’t have to give up your evening just to drive me home.”
Brady’s head turns, and he stares at me for a second, unblinking. “Sage. There’s nothing more important to me than you and our baby. Got it? Please believe me when I tell you, I just want what’s best for the two of you. I swear.”
I’m not sure what surprises me more. His heartfelt statement, or the fact that I actually do believe every single word of it.
“How do you always say the right thing? Like, are you for real?”
“I’m saying what I mean. What I feel.”
He moves slowly, giving me plenty of time to stop him, but I don’t. His strong hand lands on my thigh, its presence a warm, comforting weight.
“You thought I was a good enough guy to go home with all those months ago. Your gut told you I was safe. So what’s your gut telling you about me now?”
My lips curve up into a rueful smile. “That I’m being a stubborn idiot.”
His eyebrows lift slightly. “Well, okay, maybe don’t listen to that.”
I look down to where his hand is still resting on my leg. “I’ve spent the last several years going where the wind takes me. Never staying in one spot for long, just constantly exploring. This baby changes everything for me. It’s not just letting you in that scares me, it’s…”
“It’s your entire life being turned upside down,” he finishes for me quietly. “Believe me, I know how that feels. Your plans change in an instant, and you’re forced to sink or swim.” He squeezes my leg. “All I’m saying is, I’ll be your life preserver if you’ll let me.”
I lift my head, my gaze meeting his warm one. I don’t know how to respond, so I simply nod. Warmth, and something like gratitude, flash across his face, then he removes his hand, replacing it on the steering wheel.
I immediately miss the feel of it.
“Now, where’s your place?”
“The Cedar Creek Inn. It’s just a few blocks away.”
His brow furrows in confusion. “The inn?”
“Yeah.”
My gaze darts down to the steering wheel as he pulls out of the parking space. He’s gripping it tightly. Is he upset that I’m staying in a hotel? I don’t know why that would matter to him, but it’s clear it does.
And he proves me right when he asks, “Can I ask why a hotel? I figured you’d rent an apartment or something.”
“Oh, I am looking for a short-term rental, but there’s not a lot of options for month-to-month.”
If anything, my reply seems to make him more upset. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice his jaw clench.
“Got it. Well, I can ask around if you want. Maybe one of the guys on the team knows something.”
“Thanks.”
Fortunately, the Cedar Creek Inn really is just a few blocks away, because the strange tension that snapped into place between us as soon as I told him where I was staying is becoming uncomfortable.
He pulls up to the front door, which, thankfully, is under cover so I don’t have to get drenched walking inside. But when I move to get out of the car, his hand lands on my arm.
“Wait.”
I turn back to look at him, the sound of the rain pouring down outside louder now that my door is open.
“Thanks for letting me give you a ride,” he says.
“Pretty sure I’m the one who should be saying thank you. I would’ve been drenched if I tried to walk.”
“I’ll drive you any time. Every day. Whenever you need it.” He stumbles over the words as they spill out.
It’s endearing.
I want to close the distance between us and kiss his cheek.
I want to hug him, whether as a thank you, or a good night, or something else—I don’t know.
I don’t do either of those things.
“Well, it’s been a really long day. I need a shower, some food, and some sleep.” I climb out of the car, and just before closing the door, I bend down to look at him.
“Good night, Brady. Thanks again for the ride.”
Then, without giving him a chance to respond, I close the door, pivot on my foot, and walk quickly inside the hotel.
Away from the man who’s making me feel things and want things I have no business feeling or wanting.