Marcie scoffed.“Patently untrue.But whatever.Just remember, if you ever need to talk, I’m right here.And won’t judge.Especially if it meant you once did something with a hot hockey player.”
Oh, she’d done something, all right.Except it wasn’t all right.Not at all.Her cheeks heated.Guilt strummed, and she instantly tamped it down, the reflex one she’d done a thousand times before.She’d done what she needed to do.It was best for all concerned.
Marcie laughed.“I’m guessing from that blush that means that’s a yes.Well, girl, you could be cashing in on that story for years.You know the fact we have Kyle Tinker here in emergency is already doing the hospital rounds.”
Just what she’d feared.What was the best way to avoid the rumors getting out of control?Ask Marcie to be quiet, or ignore it like a pro and hope for the best?She glanced up.“Marcie, if you care at all about me, I’d really appreciate it if you don’t link my name to his.”
“Whoa.Well, of course I nowneedto.”
Gen shook her head, her lips pressed together to hold back a quiver.Why, oh why, did her emotions have to surface now while she was still on show?
“Oh.”
Marcie’s look of compassion nearly did her in.Gen pivoted away, stripped off her gloves, busying herself as she didn’t need her friend seeing things that weren’t true.Or—more dangerously—things that were.
She completed paperwork then nodded to Cindy, womanning the registration desk like a boss.“Got anyone for me?”She should get a pay raise for her calm voice.
“Always, but Gen, you look a little weary.It’s almost time for your break.Want to take it now?”
She shook her head.“I need to keep busy.”If she had a new patient to focus on, then maybe she could forget the last.Even if she hadn’t quite been able to forget him these past ten years.
“Well, eat something, please,” Cindy said.“Those doughnuts we got donated were pretty stale—love how people think we want their leftovers.”She rolled her eyes.“Anyway, grab a yogurt at least to keep up your energy, okay?You know we need you staying switched on here, right?”
She nodded, knowing if she didn’t eat then Cindy would only keep hounding her until she did.Cindy had—more than once—told Gen how much her calm, uncomplaining presence was valued in ER, especially when contrasted to Dr.Visek, whose muttered moans and groans often scored discreet rolled eyes from the nurses.Yet while people said they valued her, she wondered sometimes if they’d say the same to the next person, that the connections here she called friendships were more situational than because of any real bonds.But how could they be based on true connections when self-preservation meant she kept the real Genevieve locked up behind closed doors?
She moved to the staffroom and snagged a yogurt pot, peeled back the lid, and downed it quickly.Doctors often had to eat when they could, which meant the stash of slightly healthier options like this beat the usual junk food options people often thought maintained energy.While she liked chocolate as much as the next woman, she didn’t need the sugar rush and crash that often accompanied it.Neither did she need the extra pounds on her hips.Had Kyle noticed she no longer had the same slender frame she’d had in high school?
Stop it.She threw the empty yogurt container in the trash then went back to Cindy.“Okay, I’ve eaten.Tell me what’s next.”
“Okay.”Cindy winced.“I’m real sorry to do this to you, but it looks like we’ve got a GSW coming into exam room one.ETA is three minutes out.”
“Have police been notified?”
“They’re the ones bringing him in.”
She nodded, stripping off her white coat which would only get bloodied.Gunshot wounds always bled more than expected.
She entered the assigned trauma room, waiting with the rest of the team as the EMS crew wheeled in their patient, a thirty-four-year-old male, with a gunshot wound to the abdomen.There was silence as they listened to the EMS team’s story, and cut off the patient’s clothes, checked the ABCs, making sure the airways were intact, that the man’s breathing was stable, and that the blood circulation wasn’t hampered by an exit wound that needed to be stemmed.
The next minutes were frantic, yet focused, as every part of the trauma team knew their role to play, just like a Formula One pit stop crew.It was why they practiced and had simulations for exactly this type of event.They administered fluids and blood while she got large bore IV access as they’d hand off to the surgeons to explore surgically.Their goal was to get their patient to the OR or the CT scanner in under thirty minutes.
“Page the surgery team.We’ll need to send him upstairs.”
Adrenaline was fast fading as she consulted with Dr.Singh then finally released the patient to the next installment of his critical care.She stripped off her bloodied gloves and returned to where the police officers waited.“Gents.”
“Hey doc.How is he?”
“Alive.For now.”
The shorter one grinned.“We thought we’d bring you a Saturday night special, doc.”
“Thanks.”A Saturday night special was their code for gang-related activity.
“Any time.”
“Mmm, no thanks.”
Some of the men she encountered seem to think it was their job to make her smile.Officer Pekoe was one of them.Hence she made it her mission to look serious, even if she did occasionally find some things amusing.Hospital staff were notorious for black humor, just as police were too.But it didn’t mean she’d smile.So they continued to play this game, people cracking jokes, her maintaining her serious vibe.Just as she always had since she’d forgotten how to smile, thanks to the man who was probably having his insides lit up right now in a CT machine.People could call her serious or intense all they liked.She didn’t care.Besides, there was nothing amusing about an abdominal gunshot wound.
