Page 56 of Sweet Heart

“Do you feel any tenderness, Miss Porto?”

“I feel like my whole arm is going to fall off. Does that count as tenderness, Doctor?”

The snide comment cuts through the room, and the nurse adjusting the IV drip freezes for a breath. Her eyes flash to me, before she continues. Still, that moment is all she needs to let me know she’s here if I wish for backup. It would make me huff if it weren’t so loyal.

I don’t reply to the patient instantly, but take my time to review her chart. She came in with a fractured clavicle where the seatbelt restrained her, and she has shown signs of stiffness and pain in her neck. Even though the break had been set almost immediately after her arrival, the resident had her admitted to monitor her neurological response. Smart. I look at the name on the chart and make a mental note to speak to her about this. Isabel Ramos, MD.

“Yes, Miss Porto, that counts. There is some swelling and muscle spasm around the clavicle, which can irritate nearby nerves, causing a numb or heavy sensation.” I glance up at her from the chart. “Also known as the feeling of one’s arm falling off.”

The nurse let’s out a scoff of laughter that she quickly turns into a cough, but the corners of her eyes give her away. I keep a perfectly straight face as the patient’s face falters. What I just did, justified or not, was highly inappropriate. She could have my hide for it if she really wants to. But her face crumples, and she looks back up at me.

“I am sorry, Doctor. It just hurts so much, and my head, it’s just…”

“Pounding?” I ask as I reach for the penlight in my pocket.

The woman nods and instantly winces. Doctor Ramos was definitely right to admit her. Stiff neck and shoulder muscles, a pounding headache—I flash the light at her pupils, which respond a little sluggishly—and mild irritation.

“Order a CT. Gead and C-spine,” I say to the nurse, who nods instantly before I turn my attention back to the patient. “This is likely whiplash, but I want to rule out anything more serious.”

“More serious?” the woman asks, her voice suddenly very fragile.

“Yes.” I nod. “Things like a fracture of the vertebrae or intracranial hemorrhage.”

The woman frowns and looks at the nurse.

“A broken neck or a brain bleed,” she explains, and then shrugs at me when she sees my stare.

So much for that solidarity.

By the time I step into my office, my head is throbbing, too, and my feet are killing me. I kick off the clogs and wiggle my toes before I sink down on the small couch in the corner. One of the benefits of being chief. Paid for in blood, sweat, and life force, of course.

I let out a soft moan as my back protests, but my mind instantly drifts back to Mary and that dreadful couch of hers. A small smile lingers on my lips as I think about our night together. My fingers instantly slide into my pocket, and I pull out my phone. There they are. Two messages from her.

02:18 p.m. – Mary Mary

Hey, you were gone early this morning. Thank you for leaving a note. I almost got worried.

04:01 p.m. – Mary Mary

Maybe I’m jumping the gun here a bit, but would you like to have dinner again sometime? I found this really cute Lebanese place, if you are into hummus.

I let out an amused chuckle. Of course she’d word it like that. Only her.

05:21 p.m. – Katherina

I prefer the creamy texture of labneh.

05:22 p.m. – Katherina

Also, that is a yes. I would love to.

I let the phone fall next to me on the couch and lean my head against the backrest. Every bone in my body feels heavy, and my eyelids instantly close. My body has been running on adrenaline for days. And instead of sleeping the whole weekend away like I usually do when I am off, I spent every minute I could making love to Mary.

“Worth it,” I whisper to myself.

“Is she?”

I bolt upright when Carmen replies, my heart hammering against my chest and my eyes now wide open. It feels like my stomach has just dropped three floors, and I realize my fists are up when my best friend raises both her hands.