Page 4 of Sweet Heart

“Tell you what, exactly?” I ask, but I already know she isn’t going to back off.

“Oh, come on, Cat. Is she cute? What is she like? Shall I check her chart? Can I?”

“That’s quite enough, Carmen.” My hiss comes out sharp, and she flinches slightly. Fuck. “She is a patient, and I am her treating physician.”

“As if that has stopped people before,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

I bore my gaze into hers and tilt my head toward her ever so slightly. She swallows even before I speak. My voice is low and laced with ice.

“I am not people, Carmen. I have to set an example, ¿comprendes?”

She flinches again and nods. I hold her gaze for a moment longer before briefly dipping my chin and turning on my heel. There is a patient waiting for my care, and it is in my best interest to get this woman out of the hospital ASAP.

I feel Carmen’s eyes burn into my back, and I already know that this won’t be the last of it. She is like a dog with a bone. I just have to make sure there isn’t a bone for her to chew on. No. There isn’t one, because there is nothing happening here. Then why are you walking around aimlessly?

The thought makes me stop dead in my tracks. What am I doing? Fleeing that room because Mary—no, the patient—stared at me a little too intently, walking the corridors like an attending on her first rounds, snapping at my best friend. None of this is me.

The muscle in my jaw twitches, so I close my eyes and inhale deeply. In for five, out for seven. After a few deep breaths, my mind quiets, and my sanity returns to me. Like I told Carmen, I have a job to do.

I walk over to the triage desk and clock the nurse behind it. She is still typing away at the computer, disregarding anyone who turns to her. This behavior is completely unacceptable in my ER. I don’t tolerate this level of incompetence and disrespect. It isn’t only highly unprofessional, but it can also seriously harm people. It almost harmed Mary.

“¡Basta!” I growl, more at my own thought than at the nurse, but she looks up anyway.

She blinks at me with a blank stare before recognition dawns on her. Her face contorts for a moment, and she swallows hard. Her mouth opens, and her tongue darts over her lips as her eyes scan my face. I exhale sharply through my nose and clench my fists.

“Doctor Durand, what can I—”

“What is your job description for today?”

“I’m… what?”

“Your job description,” I hiss, unable to keep the edge from my tone.

“To assess all patients coming in and determine the urgency of their condition, Doctor.”

“And how do you determine said urgency if you can’t even muster the decency to look at them, Nurse…” I glance at her name tag. “…Wilder.”

“Doctor, I assure you there is nothing wrong with my assessments,” she fires back, her own voice sharp now.

I raise my eyebrow at her and quickly drop my gaze down, then up again. She pales slightly and shudders, but she keeps her head high. A part of me respects that. It is fitting for a nurse in her position. Now, if only we could get the rest up to standard.

“Roughly ten minutes ago, a woman came to your desk. Blonde hair, about this high.” I hold my hand up next to my shoulder. “What were her symptoms?”

“Doctor, you can’t be serious. I see so many people. You can’t expect—”

“Her symptoms.”

The nurse scowls at me. Her nostrils flare, and her eyes narrow. She lifts her chin and grits her teeth.

“I don’t recall.”

“Pale skin and lips, tremors, perspiration, sluggish speech, rapid breathing. What does this tell you?”

“That could be a ton of things, Doctor.”

“No, it couldn’t. If you had bothered to raise your eyes and look at her, you would have seen that Mary was clearly hypoglycemic.”

Now the nurse blinks at me.