She flinched. He might as well have said fuck off. That’s what she felt. What she heard. What she deserved.
Face burning, she turned and picked up the gauze, feeling like that stupid girl who bit off more than she could chew. The teenager at her first party slamming back a shot and then choking on the burn as it slogged its way down her throat. She plucked at the tape holding the roll of gauze together, knowing that whether Dr. Walker wanted Callaghan to have X rays or not, he would want his ribs wrapped. For Callaghan’s comfort if nothing else.
Mostly she just needed to do something with herself after Callaghan’s stinging words.
Her hands were shaking as she got the tape free and began unrolling a section. No matter how she willed them to stop, they wouldn’t.
“Ah, what do we have here?”
Her head snapped up at the arrival of Dr. Walker. Relief coursed through her.
Renewed with purpose, she set down the gauze, stood aside and recounted Callaghan’s injuries, feeling in control again. A professional. Not at all like the rebuked child of moments ago.
The doctor sank down onto the edge of the bed and examined the head wound first, checking Callaghan’s eyes and asking the standard questions to determine if he had a concussion. He treated him like any other patient. Because that’s what he saw. A patient. He didn’t see the caged animal she did.
Anticipating his needs, Briar busied herself gathering up the supplies required for suturing the wound, retrieving items from the cabinets. She was glad she had taken the time to familiarize herself with the contents this morning so she didn’t have to bother Josiah, who was now on the phone arranging transport to the local hospital for the inmate with the injured knee.
She offered Dr. Walker an anesthetic to help numb the area before suturing. “I don’t need that,” Callaghan said, his voice soft, but deep enough that she would have probably heard him from outside the HSU.
Dr. Walker smiled kindly, as though he wasn’t dealing with a dangerous convict, and accepted the syringe from Briar. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, son. It just hurts a moment, but you’ll be grateful for the relief once I start sewing.”
“I don’t need it,” he repeated in that quiet, unshakable voice.
Dr. Walker stared at him a long moment before glancing at Briar, the hesitation clear in his eyes.
She shrugged. “If he doesn’t want it . . .” She let her words fade away. As harsh as Callaghan had been to her, she wasn’t particularly motivated to argue with him just so he could suffer less. If he wanted pain, then he could have it.
As soon as the uncharitable thought entered her head, she gave it a swift kick. Her profession called for her to offer comfort and compassion. In so short a time, this inmate had squashed that impulse in her. It made her feel small and ugly inside. So soon, this place was already changing her. She didn’t like it, and right then she vowed not to let it happen. Part of the reason she went into nursing was because she wanted to be a good person. Nothing like her father.
“Very well, Mr. Callaghan,” Dr. Walker declared. “I shall endeavor to use a gentle hand, but I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”
Callaghan blinked, his lids dropping slowly over those blue eyes. He pulled back slightly, as if the mister before his name had somehow thrown him, and she doubted he had often, if ever, been extended that courtesy. At least not while he was in prison, and as he’d made clear, that had been a while.
Dr. Walker was good to his word, working quickly and efficiently. She stood at his elbow, handing him whatever he needed promptly, her gaze only straying once or twice to Callaghan.
The man stared straight ahead, his jaw locked tight, his expression reflecting none of his discomfort, even though she knew it had to hurt.
Was that what prison did? Killed one’s ability to feel? The possibility left her a little hollow inside.
“There now.” Dr. Walker slipped off his gloves. “Are you opposed to acetaminophen?”
After a moment of hesitation, Callaghan shook his head.
Dr. Walker smiled. “Very good, then. Nurse Davis will get that for you as well as an antibiotic cream to help with any potential infection.” He lightly patted Callaghan on the shoulder like he was one of the old grannies that came to see him complaining of arthritis, and not a hardened convict.
“What about his ribs?” Briar asked.