Page 11 of Keeping Zita

She didn’t know the woman’s name but knew that she was one of the boom operators, responsible for holding the boom mics when needed on set. Kneeling next to her, Zita saw that she was sweaty and clammy, and holding her left arm.

She got to work immediately, asking the woman questions about what happened, where she felt pain, and getting her medical history. She wasn’t aware of anyone else around her, all her focus completely on the woman. She vaguely heard sirens in the distance, but she didn’t let those distract her either.

Before long, she was joined by two paramedics from a local ambulance company. She’d already inserted an IV and had the leads attached to the woman’s chest to monitor her heart rhythms.

She stood back as the ambulance crew took over. They agreed with her initial assessment that the woman was having some sort of heart episode. They put her on a stretcher, removed Zita’s heart-monitoring lines, and hooked up their own. Thanking her for her quick actions, and for getting the IV inserted, they moved across the set toward the exit.

Satisfied that the woman would have the best care, now that she was on the way to the hospital, Zita began to clean up the mess left behind by both herself and the ambulance crew.

To her surprise, someone knelt at her side and began to help. Looking over, Zita saw Sage.

“I’ve got it,” she said quietly.

“I know,” was all he said, but he didn’t stop picking up the wrappers from the sterilized equipment she’d used.

It didn’t take long to clean up the area. Then Zita stood, as did Sage.

Without a word, they returned to the seats they’d been using before the emergency.

Zita settled back down, making sure her bag was once more at her feet and ready to go at a moment’s notice. She needed to repack some of the things she’d used on the woman, but she always had plenty of needles, gauze, and whatever else she might need while on the set, so that could wait.

After a moment, Sage said quietly, “You were great with her.”

Pride flooded Zita’s system. It wasn’t as if his words were the first time she’d heard such praise. Zita wasn’t conceited, but she knew she was a damn good paramedic. She’d spent more than her fair share of time on the front lines and could treat anything from pediatric seizures to gunshot wounds to the gut. She had yet to experience anything on the set of any of the movies she’d been on that she couldn’t handle.

“Thanks,” she said a little belatedly.

“Staying calm is one of the most important things anyone can do in an emergency.”

Zita nodded. She could totally picture this man not getting ruffled in the least when the shit hit the fan when he was behind the controls of his helicopter. “Yeah.”

“But it’s more than staying calm,” Sage said, turning to look at her once more. This time, there was something…more in his gaze. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but the look in his eyes made her tingle in places she hadn’t tingled in a very long time. “It’s making the person you’re treating feel down to their very soul like they’re in good hands. Like they aren’t going to die. Like you’re going to help them. Make the pain go away. Keep them alive.”

Zita wanted to argue that the woman wasn’t on the verge of death. That even if she was having a heart episode, she wasn’t in active defib or anything. But he was right, and she figured he’d had more than enough experience watching military medics or special forces operatives deal with teammates who were gravely wounded.

She’d love to pick his brain about the things he’d seen. Zita figured she could probably learn a lot from hearing what others in her profession had said and done while in emergency situations. But it was unlikely she’d ever get the chance, since she didn’t have top-secret clearance.

“You’re an easy person to be around, Zita.”

She was literally at a loss for words.

No one had ever said that about her before.

She was Type A. Didn’t like to sit still. Liked to be doing something. Days off had always been difficult for her, because she couldn’t simply veg on the couch and watch TV or read a book. She tended to talk too much. Ask inappropriate questions. Fidget. She’d even had one boyfriend tell her that she exhausted him, and he couldn’t deal.

So Sage saying that she was easy to be around was a new one. And it meant the world to her. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed him; after all, he’d only known her for a week or so, but still. The compliment made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

The scene that had been interrupted by the small drama resumed, and Zita turned her attention in that direction, not really seeing anything because she was replaying Sage’s words in her head. She had a report to type up regarding what just happened—she was required to document everything she did while on set, partly to justify the cost of her being there, but also for insurance purposes—but she didn’t want to leave Sage’s side just yet.

For some reason, sitting next to him calmed the constant need inside her to move. Probably why he thought she was “easy” to be around. It was actually all him.

For the next ten minutes, Logan filmed the scene where he was being welcomed back by his teammates, and when Zita happened to glance over at Sage, she saw he was watching with his entire being. Meaning, he was leaning forward, his gaze locked on the actors, his hands clenched together as his elbows rested on his thighs. Even his jaw was tight, and Zita could see a muscle ticking there.

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.

Was he upset? Irritated that the scene wasn’t authentic? Thinking about his own friends, and a time when he’d experienced something similar to what was being acted out in front of them? She wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t sit there and pretend he wasn’t experiencing some sort of big emotion and not do something.