Chapter 3
Chapter Three
OAKLEIGH
The ER is chaos tonight.
After a bus crashed between Liliton and Eaglewood, there was nowhere else for the survivors to come but here. And yes, I just said “survivors.” Unfortunately, not all the passengers were so lucky.
The floor is so loud that I can barely hear anything the attending is telling me. Or maybe that’s because of the blood pumping its way across my ear drums, telling me that my heartbeat is going faster than the driver was on the bus.
It’s moments like these that make me regret changing jobs and becoming a trauma nurse.
Why the hell would I voluntarily put myself in this position?
Put myself in a part of the hospital that contains more death than the rest of the building put together.
But I needed something more than what I had upstairs.
Upstairs in recovery was so boring. All I really needed to do was check on patients and administer meds when needed.
It was so quiet that all I ever wanted to do was write more of my novel, but my supervisor, Linda, said that if she caught me writing one more time, I’d face suspension.
So, I moved to where it was busy enough that I didn’t even have time to think about the red and white notebook that now sits in my apartment instead of my hospital locker.
Thoughts of my notebook bring my mind back to yesterday; the panic that had gripped my chest the moment I saw Finn standing in the doorway with a smug smile and that very notebook in his hand.
But I also remember the way my skin came alive as I sat straddling him, reveling in that shocked expression on his face as I overpowered him.
Ice washes through my veins as I think about how aware I was of his presence, the way his hand fit against the curve of my waist, just like it did eight months ago.
I’d promised myself that I would never let another man have control over my feelings.
I give my head a rough shake, because I’ll be damned if I forget that now.
My experiences with dating can easily be described as a catastrophic list of endless failures.
I’ve never really taken the time to dissect whether or not I’ve brought this on myself.
My life up until eight months ago had been fairly boring—nothing particularly necessary of relaying.
I’m no FMC in a romance novel—no one is coming to love me despite my flaws, so I’ve happily (sort of) put to rest the possibility of a good man coming into my life.
My stomach turns as a gurney is wheeled into the bay beside the patient I’m checking on. A perfect physical representation of my love life, on it an older man lies on his side so that the bus handle sticking out of his shoulder isn’t being disrupted by the bed.
God, I wish I could turn off my peripheral vision sometimes. I want nothing more than to go home and snuggle in bed with a massive glass of wine and my cat, Ollie, snuggled beside me.
My patient groans in pain just as the needle breaches his skin, bringing me back to reality. Thankfully, even in my trauma-filled daze, I still managed to find the vein just fine.
“Deep breaths,” I encourage as the blood starts to fill the vial. We need to check his bloods as a precaution, since he has a bleeding disorder and is currently suffering from a gash running down his thigh. “You’re doing really well.”
He groans in response and I smile at him sadly. I can’t imagine the pain he must be in, the morphine barely touching the sides of what he’s feeling. I take a deep breath as I change vials, trying to push aside any of my own feelings so that I can focus purely on the man before me.
“Did you manage to call whoever you needed to call?” I ask, hoping to help distract him even a fraction.
The young man opens his eyes. He can’t be much younger than me, maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven? Bright blue eyes watch me hazily.
“Yeah,” he moans quietly. “I managed to call my mom. She’s coming with my boyfriend.”
I smile down at him. “How long have you been together?”
“Not long.” He hisses as the needle moves while I change the vial again. “A year and a half.”
“Well, that’s a year and a half longer than I’ve ever managed.” I chuckle wryly, and thankfully a pained smile dances across his face. “You love him?” I push.
He gives a jerky nod. “More than I probably should at this point.”
“Uh-uh. No one can tell you what kind of timeline to have when it comes to that stuff.” I gently pull the needle out now that I’ve collected all I need. “You love how you love.”
The conversation seems to be exhausting him. It must take a lot of energy to disregard the pain enough to answer questions, let alone have a discussion, but I’m just happy that it distracted him long enough for me to finish these bloods.
Because now comes the hard part.
“I’m going to have to sort that leg out now, Gregory.” I cringe.
He stares down at his thigh in horror, probably imagining the pain that will come with the whole lot of alcohol I’m going to have to put on it to clean it out.
“Hey,” I call to him and he reluctantly tears his eyes away from his leg. “We’ll get through this together, okay? Just take deep breaths and keep talking to me.”
* * *
By the end of my shift, I’m past the point of burn-out. A fifteen-hour shift should be illegal, but when I think back on all of the people that we’ve helped today, I tell myself that it’s worth it if all of these people get to live another day.
We lost a few today. Two adults, including the driver and a teenage girl who was looking like she was going to make it until she suffered a pulmonary embolism.
By the time I’m driving home, I’m shattered.
My shoulders feel as if I’ve been lifting weights all day, my ankles are killing me, and my eyes are so sore I just know a migraine is going to grace me with its presence any time soon.
The minute I get home, I’m planting myself face-first into my bed, scrubs be damned.
I don’t think I have it in me to take them off.
Thankfully, the drive from the hospital to my house is short. I pull up, head inside and immediately feel something nudge my leg.
“Do you just wait by the front door until I get home?” I ask Ollie.
He meows in confirmation.
“That’s kind of sweet and kind of creepy, dude.”
I give him the fusses that he begs for and then head into the kitchen to fill myself a glass of water to take to bed. I sigh when I check the time on the oven. It’s a little after three in the morning and I’m supposed to be at Wren’s for one. Why the hell did I agree to that?
I don’t know if it’s because Wren mentioned it yesterday, or if it’s simply been subtle enough to escape my notice, but whatever this thing is about Wanda wishing for Finn and I to get together, it’s definitely noticeable now.
Wanda sent me a couple of photos as her way of letting me know that they are back in Beckford, and every single one has Finn in it in some way.
In one, he’s lifting their luggage onto the back of his truck, biceps bulging as he does so.
His brown skin is glistening as the summer sun shines on it, highlighting every vein, every ridge.
In another one, Wanda didn’t even bother to put herself in the photo. She simply sent one of Finn frowning at her in confusion with the caption, “Don’t I just have the most handsome chauffeur?”
I want to tell Wanda one time that it’s never going to happen, but every time I go to type out the message, something stops me. This invisible force seems to hold my thumbs still, eventually guiding them to type out something completely different.
Eh, I’ve seen better, Mama.
Instead of taking the time to delve into possible reasons why this is happening, I lock my phone and throw it down onto the couch.
I’m exhausted, and I feel as if one night’s sleep will be nowhere near what I should be getting with how much I work, and yet the same thing that happens every night takes over my body.
My fingers itch with a need to type out every single idea that I’ve had since I began today’s shift.
I was in the middle of working on an important scene last night before I fell asleep with my computer still on my lap and my mind is begging me to finish it.
With a heavy sigh, I run into the bedroom to grab my laptop. I return to the living room and let myself drop down onto the couch.
By the time six in the morning rolls around, everything I’m reading is blurry and I keep nodding off accidentally.
I feel good with what I’ve managed to get done, though.
The fight scene is done and the MMC and FMC’s first kiss together is well underway.
Hopefully, when brunch with the Southwicks wraps up, I’ll have enough time before work to get some more done.
I turn the kitchen light off and head to bed to pass out and hopefully sleep until I’m forty and have made millions of dollars and can retire for the rest of my life.