I never could.
I was needed. I could help someone. I would never walk away from that.
It just wasn't in my nature.
"How many?"
"Three adults. One car, one bike."
I groaned. Bikes accidents were the worst. In the battle between flesh and metal, metal always won.
We ran for the ER entrance as we heard the sirens approaching. I tossed my purse and jacket onto a chair behind the nurses' station without breaking stride. Just in time to see two ambulances pull in.
Drake ran to one and I ran to the other.
I waited as they unloaded a man, late twenties by the look of him.
"Hang tight man, Alexandra will take good care of you."
Mark, the EMT was fawning over the patient instead of doing his job. I saw a flash of white teeth from the patient as he smiled. Not dying then. Good.
I wanted to go home. As soon as he was stable, I could do that.
"Condition?"
"One male, possible concussion, broken ribs, some tissue damage. Right arm broken and possible internal bleeding."
I nodded and held the IV bag to the side as they lowered him to the ground.
"He's got to make it. Make sure he know all us guys are counting on him."
I didn't even glance at Mark as we rolled the gurney into the ER at a run.
"What is he, an athlete?"
In LA we were used to celebrities. Movie stars, models, rock stars, pop stars, celebrity chefs. You name it, we got it. The only people who really got a reaction from the staff were famous basketball players. This guy looked handsome and strong under the gauze and blood. But not seven feet tall.
Baseball then.
Not that I gave a shit.
Mark laughed.
"An athlete. Ha, yeah kind of. Anyway, take good care of him."
I locked the gurney into place and gave Mark a cold stare.
"I take good care of all my patients. Now, shoo. He needs my attention."
Mark had the good grace to look abashed as his walkie went off.
"Yeah, gotta go. See you, man!"
The man lying on the gurney lifted his hand to give the thumbs up. Then he groaned.
I shook my head at him, as I started looking him over.
"Try not to move, the doctor will be here soon."
He nodded and groaned again. I just tsked at him and checked his vitals, entering them into my tablet. His vitals were good so I moved on, touching him lightly, feeling for breaks.
"What is your name?"
"Trent Davis."
I gave him a look. What kind of name was that? It sounded made up. Like a super villain in a spy movie.
Bright blue eyes stared back at me. Bright blue, bloodshot eyes. No wonder he was so cheerful.
The guy was shit faced.
I made a mental note to do a tox screen.
I moved to his right side. He flinched as I touched his arm. This is where he got the worst of it.
"I need to cut your clothes off of you."
He moaned again.
"Not-the jacket."
"Sorry Mr. Davis, it's got to go."
He nodded, giving up. It was pretty obvious his arm was broken inside it.
"I'll try and cut along the seams."
I looked up briefly and my breath caught in my throat. He was smiling at me. He had one of the most devastating smiles I'd ever seen.
Damn, he really must be a celebrity.
Pearly white teeth, sensuous lips, a chiseled face. And those eyes. They practically twinkled.
The patient was flirting with me!
Chewed up, spit out, and flirting.
I shook my head and went back to cutting his clothes off of him. The doctor finally came and ordered morphine right away. He looked the patient over while I cleaned the torn skin on his side.
Finally, the new nurses came on shift. I handed him off to Rachel. She was a good nurse. I felt confident as I stepped back.
"Wait-"
The patient's good hand was gripping the edge of my scrubs. I looked over at him. He looked worried.
"Dr. Jacobs will take good care of you, don't worry."
"What's your... name?"
"Alexandra."
I don't know why I told him. I usually didn't go by my first name with patients. But he just grinned at me, letting his head fall back on the pillow.
High as a kite, barely conscious and he was still flirting.
I shook my head and left, grabbing my coat and purse on the way out.
I'd been here for almost 38 hours now.
I was ready to pass out. I forced myself to focus for the ride home.
I didn't want to end up like Mr. Blue Eyes.
Chapter Three Trent
I was a dumbass.
I was one big, stupid, lucky to be alive, dumbass.
I would have been the first to admit it, but I was too busy being poked and prodded and passing out from the massive quantities of pain meds they were feeding me.
It had to be a lot, considering how much recreational drug use I'd enjoyed over the years.
So yeah, I was blotto.