“You’d be surprised. I was lucky. But only because I asked for help.”
I’m surprised by how invested I already am. I’ve cared about patients before, of course—but this is different. Tanya’s situation feels personal in a way I wasn’t expecting.
Tanya is silent, and I can tell she is deciding whether to stay or run.
I’m grasping for anything to tip the scales towards the former.
“Let’s do this. Can I at least take a quick look at your arm? You’ll probably need an X-ray to see if anything’s broken. We don’t have to talk anymore, but your injury needs to be evaluated no matter how you got it.”
I’m honestly not sure how I’m still in this room. My heart is pounding a million times per minute.
Tanya finally nods, acquiescing, letting the jacket drop to the bed in a heap. I stifle a gasp when I see just how many bruises she’s been hiding, but I make a big effort to not react to them. Instead, I focus on her arm, palpating it gently. She hisses softly, but doesn’t pull away. There’s a small bulge where there shouldn’t be. She might need surgery, but I’ll postpone that discussion until I talk to Dr. Simons.
“Okay, I need to talk to the head doctor,” I say, releasing her arm. “I’ll tell her what we discussed.”
As Tanya’s eyes flare in terror, I hold my hands up in a placating gesture. “Again, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. Let’s at least see what we’re dealing with here.”
“Fine.” Tanya’s tone is sullen, her body language closed off once again. “But no more questions about my relationship. That has nothing to do with my arm.”
Which tells me it has everything to do with her arm.
As I exit the room, my pent-up feelings of panic surge forward, like a pressure valve has been released. There isn’t enough air in the room to expand my chest; I’m dizzy and unmoored.
Without warning, familiar gray eyes smile at me.
Oh no. It’s Jake Whitlock.
Why here? Why now? If meeting Tanya showed me anything, it’s that I’m nowhere near ready for a relationship—no matter how intriguing this man is. Even though Weston and I have broken up, the baggage still remains.
“Hey, Lucy...” Jake freezes when he sees my face. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
The reality of Tanya’s injuries combined with Jake’s sudden arrival is too much, and I dash out of the ER.
In seconds, I’m at the ambulance entrance, bent over and gasping. It’s blazing hot outside, but I’m shivering, and my teeth are chattering. Panting, I attempt to calm my heartbeat, but I’m unable to regulate my breathing.
Jake’s gray eyes peer down at me in concern. “Let’s go sit down on that curb, okay?”
Jittery, like a skittish cat, I scrabble for his hand, following him blindly. Jake eases me to sitting with minimal effort even though I’m sagging heavily against him.
“Take some deep breaths,” Jake says calmly. “In for four beats through your nose, hold it for seven and then exhale out of your mouth for eight, okay? I’ll do it with you.”
Following Jake’s lead, I inhale shakily and let out a shuddering breath. Miraculously, my head stops spinning with each subsequent inhalation. After following Jake’s breathing patterns for a minute or two, my heart slows to a reasonable rate.
“Now,” Jake says, his voice resonant and calm. “Tell me three things that you see.”
“Huh?” I can barely focus on what he is saying.
“Just go with it. Tell me three things you see.”
Glancing around, I grasp for an answer. “Um, I see a stop sign. And a potted plant. And a parked ambulance.”
“Good. Now tell me three things that you smell.”
“Um. I smell…”
In fact, what I smell is Jake. His intoxicating scent of clean, laundered scrubs and musk, a mix of earthy tones that dilates my pupils. His aroma is undeniably male and spicy, but also soothing and relaxing. How can one person make me feel so many things at once?
“Hopefully I don’t stink,” Jake says with a grin.
