After she’d seen Marvin that morning, Graham’s voice had been in her head all day. A guy like that isn’t right for you.
She’d spotted Marvin across the nursing station and given him a little wave, thinking he’d come over. His cheeks had flushed and he glanced away before looking back to smile at her. For a second it seemed he might approach her, but then he turned and went in the other direction, his navy scrubs billowing around his thin frame as he speed-walked down the hall.
He was incredibly nice. Sweet. Gentle.
And like Graham said, definitely not her type. It wasn’t that she didn’t like nice guys, or even sweet guys. She just wanted a little more...assertion. Fire. Confidence. It hit her as she watched Marvin walk away and pictured in her mind what would happen if she caught up with him and suggested they meet for a little rendezvous in the supply closet later.
He’d probably turn bright red and decline without looking her in the eye, mumbling something about it being inappropriate.
And yeah, it was inappropriate. But it was also hot and exciting and she’d always wanted to do it.
Then another image popped into her brain: how Graham would react in the same situation. He’d grab her hand and drag her down the hall to take care of it right now. As soon as the door shut, cloaking them in darkness, he’d grab her by the pockets of her scrubs and pull her against his body, knocking gauze and tubing off the shelves as he kissed her with the raw passion of a man consumed by his need for her.
Which immediately pissed her off for two reasons:
1. She didn’t want Graham to be right, and she would have been excited to go out with Marvin again if Graham hadn’t pointed out how incompatible they were. (Probably. Maybe.)
2. Since when did she entertain thoughts of kissing Graham?
It was probably the sex pact. She certainly hadn’t thought about kissing him before that conversation, and even if they ended up going down that road, it was years away from becoming reality.
Hence the text message, and the lingering irritation she still felt hours later when she heard Ruthie mention something about a firefighter being brought in.
Claire perked up from where she sat at the nursing station, charting while waiting for lab results for a young woman in pod 12. Ruthie and another nurse stood several feet away and Claire tilted her head, trying to hear better. When she heard the words multialarm fire and firefighter injured, she immediately pulled her phone from her scrubs pocket.
Graham had yet to answer her text from earlier. She’d sent it three hours ago.
Did he work today? She racked her brain to remember if they’d talked about it, and she flipped through her photos to find his schedule. He typically worked twenty-four-hour shifts, but the dates weren’t consistent and she’d never been able to keep it straight. He brought home a schedule every month and posted it on the fridge, and she’d gotten in the habit of taking a photo for reference.
Shit. She had the image of May’s schedule, and today was June 2.
What did multiple injuries mean? Community injuries or firefighters? Or both?
Fear shot through her and suddenly she was eleven years old, standing on the airfield in that split second when she realized something wasn’t right, and the ice-cold sensation that filled her then spread its tentacles through her veins once again.
She startled when Ruthie grabbed her elbow. “Claire?”
“Did I hear you say a firefighter is coming in?”
“Yeah, I was gonna put him with you in pod 7. Can you handle that? I know you’ve got three others, but Jimmy’s full and Brooklyn’s on her break.”
She worked to steady her breathing. It could be a simple check-and-release per protocol. “I’m good. I’ll take him. ETA?”
“Should be any minute. Fire wasn’t too far from here.”
Neither was Graham’s station, which meant his department likely would have responded, especially if the incident was major.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Ruthie knew anything more about the patient—like his name or if he was a tall, dark-haired, sarcastic asshole with a killer smile—but she’d already walked away.
Claire had just enough time to shoot off several text messages to Graham’s phone before her new patient arrived.
Are you at work?
If you’re fine and don’t answer in the next five seconds I’m kicking your ass when I get home
I don’t actually hate you, if you’re punishing me for that
When he didn’t respond to her machine gun messages, she gave up and called him.
Nothing.
“Dammit,” she muttered, his lack of response like kindling to the burning anxiety beneath her sternum. Most days she was able to remain neutral and keep memories of the tragedy she’d witnessed as a kid from affecting her day-to-day life, probably because the trauma patients she cared for at work were typically strangers. But when something might have happened to someone she knew, it was as if her brain immediately recalled every heightened instinct and emotion from that day.
In that moment, a stretcher came through the ambulance entrance carrying a man in a familiar navy uniform. The body filled it out differently and she knew right away it wasn’t Graham. He was awake and talking, and already had his protective gear off.
This guy didn’t seem badly off and a touch of her worry melted away.
Ruthie intercepted the paramedics and directed them to the assigned pod, and Claire once again tucked her phone away before grabbing a supply cabinet and rolling it toward the curtain. One of the paramedics came out and gave her a quick rundown—too much water had brought down the ceiling and the patient had taken a blow to the head. He’d been knocked unconscious and dragged out of the building, then came to shortly thereafter.
They’d stabilized his spine and kept him awake during the drive, but would leave the rest up to the doctors.
“Thanks,” Claire said, taking the handover document. “I’ll take it from here.”
The paramedics left and Claire pulled back the curtain and pushed her cart inside. The man’s neck was immobilized by a brace placed by the paramedics, so she sidled up next to the bed and leaned over so he could see her. “Hi, I’m Claire, your nurse. The doctor will be in soon but I’ll start an IV and ask you some questions first. I know they took your vitals in the ambulance, but I’ll take them again if that’s okay. What’s your name?”
He gave her a smile. “Javier. Can I take this thing off now? My neck is fine.”
Claire fought a smile. That’s exactly what Graham would have said, eager to be cleared and get the hell out of the hospital. Just as quickly as the thought came, concern for her friend and roommate flooded her once again. Had anyone else been hurt?
“Not until the doctor says so, and odds are she’s gonna want a scan first. Are you in pain?”
“It’s not bad.”
“On a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst you could ever imagine, where would you rate it?”
“Four. Maybe four and a half.”
She made a note and prepared the IV kit. “Are you nauseous?”
“I was on the drive in, but I tend to get carsick and the ambulance ride wasn’t exactly smooth. It’s already better.”
She asked him a few more routine questions, and when she was confident nothing was so urgent she needed to run and grab the doctor right that second, she slipped in another question as she started the bag of fluids and strapped a blood pressure cuff to his arm. “Where was the fire?”
“Sixth and Pine. You know that multilevel apartment complex they’re building?”
She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah. How bad is it?”
“Damage is significant. Shit was falling everywhere. At least two other guys were in there when I got hit. They weren’t from my station, I know that much, but I hope they’re okay.”
Her stomach dropped and she gripped her hands into fists. She hadn’t heard of any other patients being brought in by ambulance. What if Graham had been hurt and they took him to another hospital?