Page 3 of Fighting For You

The entire team stepped back in a single breath. The kid lay on the gurney. The floor around him was a mess of cut denim, open plastic wrappers, and bloody gloves.

Josie stepped into the bay, clipboard in hand, unbothered by the mess.

"Called Metro. Security's pulling the driveway cameras, but the sedan was gone before the doors shut." She looked at Harlan. "Another dump and run."

Harlan barely looked up from the screen. "Order a leg CTA and alert Vascular. Let's get him moved up before Metro gets here."

I took a breath and peeled off my gloves.

"What a day." Gracelyn pulled her scrub top over her head and tossed it into the hamper. "Why, of all the cities in America I could have ended up in, did I choose Las Vegas?"

"The weather," I said. "And the glamour."

She laughed. "The glamour. Yes. That's exactly what I was thinking while I had my hands on that kid's head."

Gracelyn was the eldest of five. Every time her salary came through she'd sit in the break room with her phone calculator and figure out what her family needed back in the Philippines. Rent for her mother, school fees for her youngest sister, whatever medical bill had come in that month. She did the math before she spent a cent on herself. Some shifts I'd watch her push through twelve hours of impossible rooms knowing she'd go home and do her numbers, and I'd think: if she can do that, I have no excuse.

Gracelyn sat down on the bench and started changing her shoes. "I feel like I deserve something after today. You want to grab dinner before we head home?"

I pulled my phone out of my locker. One text from Ian.

IAN

Working on a project at Jesse's. Home late.

Ian wasn't usually the type to text ahead. I appreciated it when he did.

"My brother's out late tonight," I said. "Working on a school project. So I guess I don't have to rush home and make dinner."

"Perfect." Gracelyn grinned and pulled her other shoe on.

We ended up at a diner off Charleston, one of those 24-hour places with sticky menus and vinyl booths that Las Vegas has on every other block. Gracelyn slid into a booth by the window and I sat across from her. The waitress dropped two menus on the table and disappeared.

"I want something hearty tonight." Gracelyn flipped through the menu like she was looking for something specific. "Something that makes me forget about all the blood I had to deal with today."

I turned the pages and stopped on a picture of chicken tenders.

"Chicken and waffles." Gracelyn closed her menu and set it down with both hands, satisfied. "That's it. That's the one."

"I'm surprised you're not looking for something with rice."

"This is close enough."

"How is chicken and waffles close to rice?"

"There's protein and carbs. That's a Filipino plate."

"If you say so."

The waitress came back. "Ready to order?"

"I'll have the chicken and waffles with a side of fries, please," Gracelyn said.

"And I'll have the chicken tenders, please. Do those come with ranch?"

"I can get you some."

"Thank you."