Page 1 of The Golden Hour

CHAPTER ONE

MASON

"I'm presenting a thirty-one-year-old female currently at twenty-seven weeks gestation," Dr. Mason Carpenter presents to his Chief Attending, Dr. Erica Weaver, who keeps her sharp eyes on him.

He doesn't flinch, doesn't stumble, doesn't second-guess himself. This is his element. This is when he shines.

Even the patient, holding on desperately to her wife's hand, watches him in awe.

It's the tone of his voice, speaking with the correct combination of confidence and kindness he learned from Dr. Weaver when he was a know-nothing MS-3, but he didn't have someone like him to model himself after.

Now, he's a senior resident, and has three other med-students watching him with wide-eyed gazes, no doubt hoping they'll be as competent as him one day.

As Mason flicks his eyes to the three, he inwardly snorts.

Doubt it. No one will ever be as efficient as him.

A small smirk curves at his lips as he continues. "She sustained direct abdominal trauma against the steering wheel and is complaining of pain on the right side."

Dr. Weaver nods. "Any vaginal bleeding or leaking of fluid?"

"No vaginal bleeding, no leaking of fluid, no contractions," Mason's eyes flick toward the patient - Molly Parker. "I'm waiting for OB/GYN to come down for a formal fetal evaluation."

Dr. Weaver's lips quirk. "Good. Make sure you also draw labs for a CBC, metabolic panel, type and screen, and a Kleihauer-Betke test to check for fetomaternal hemorrhage."

"Got it," Mason nods, nodding toward one of the MS-3 to get started.

All three of them share a worried look, and Mason resists the urge to roll his eyes. He was terrified too when he was in their shoes, but he was the one jumping at every opportunity.

They'll never survive. They should try out dermatology if they can't handle the ED. This is what separates the men from the—well, the adults from the children—he corrects, glancing at Dr. Weaver, who's the best damn doctor he's ever met.

She's been working in an emergency room for 30 years, has seen every technological transition, and has adapted. He purposefully placed himself under her wing when he was a student, and she pushed him harder than anyone. He's grateful to her.

"I'll also start continuous fetal and contraction monitoring for at least 4 hours since she experienced direct trauma."

Dr. Weaver grins—the largest smile you'll ever get out of her—and he's the only one who's ever accomplished it. His chest swells with pride in himself.

"Good job, Dr. Carpenter." She nods before turning and walking out of the exam room. "Come find me if you need me."

"Wow," one of the students whispers.

Mason smirks.

Yeah, that's the reaction he lives for.

He starts guiding the students with Molly, leading them through running labs and showing them how to actually do their jobs, before he gets irritated by how slow they are and impatiently snaps, "Move, I'll do it."

He stays until the OB-GYN comes down to take over.

Dr. Eugene Mortimer is an older, set-in-his-ways doctor who delivered Mason and half his high school class in this very hospital. Everyone calls him one of the best, and Mason has never had a reason to question it.

"Carpenter, I'll see you tomorrow?" Dr. Mortimer asks Mason, and that makes him pause with a frown.

Tomorrow? Yeah, he might see him tomorrow depending on what traumas are brought in, but the ED is not something you can really predict.

When he gives Dr. Mortimer a questioning look, the smile on the older doctor's face doesn't waver.

"For your wife's appointment," he clarifies.