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“You’re going to be fine,” I said, jogging alongside the patient as he was wheeled in to the emergency department bay. He glanced up at me through his pained expression. “What’s your name?”
“Nate.”
“Well, you’re going to be okay, Nate. I promise.”
I didn’t leave his side until we reached the bay and the emergency room technicians began tending to him, preparing him for the doctor.
I scanned the area in search of Dr. Nualli, coming to a complete halt at the sight of someone else in her spot.
Standing at the sink was a doctor I did not recognize. Male. I saw the flash of tattoos on his skin as he scrubbed his hands and forearms with antibacterial soap.
“Where’s Dr. Nualli?” I asked the room at large, though I instantly regretted doing so. I didn’t want to make the patient nervous.
“She’s not in today. Dr. Sholly will be covering for her.”
At the sound of his name, or perhaps at my question, Dr. Sholly took a quick glance over his shoulder at me.
My heart gave an unusual patter that had nothing to do with the job ahead of me. In just that brief instant, it was impossible to not notice how handsome Dr. Sholly was. Even through his scrubs, his muscular build was evident. He had a headful of dark shiny hair, a prominent jawline that was covered with a 5 o’clock shadow, dark penetrating eyes, and an expression that showed he was all-business.
“Tessa?” I jumped. A fellow nurse—Molly—stared at me with her eyebrows raised. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Dr. Sholly made his way over, briskly walking straight to the patient, who was now unconscious. I took a deep breath and forced myself concentrate while several nurses attempted to disrobe the patient’s wound area.
“Careful,” I said. “Don’t destroy the clothing, particularly in the area of the gun shot.”
Dr. Sholly glanced at me for an instant, although I couldn’t quite decipher his expression. There was no time to anyway. All my attention was on the patient now, making sure everything ran smoothly. All the while, I made sure to stay one step ahead of the doctor, anticipating his needs and his moves before he had even figured them out himself. That was my job.
“Looks like an exit wound right about here,” Dr. Sholly said in a voice that made knees weak. “Probably another damn drive by.”
“Let’s leave it to the forensics department to make that assessment,” I said, earning an annoyed glance from him.
“I know what I’m looking at,” he quipped. This wasn’t starting out well, but I was terrible at walking away from a fight.
“I’m sure you do,” I responded, “but we have a very specific job to do here, doc. So we should stick to it.”
Dr. Sholly mumbled under his breath and several other nurses raised their eyebrows, making me realize my words had bit harder than I should have allowed. I couldn’t really care though; my concern was for Nate, and for his sake, we needed to stay on task. I was forcibly reminded of why I preferred Dr. Nualli; we were always on the same page and she would have never taken a moment to contemplate any details other than what was absolutely necessary to treat the patient right then and there.
After long stretch of silence, Dr. Sholly spoke again. “Lucky guy here. There won’t be any permanent damage. He’ll need therapy, but he’ll walk again. No severe bone or nerve damage. The bullet seems to have made it in and out without hitting anything serious. Send up a notice to the surgeon upstairs that he needs to be stitched up.”
I let out a relieved sigh, causing Dr. Sholly to stare at me again. I felt a flush rising over my cheeks.
“Kennery?”
I gave a start at him saying my last name. “Yes?”
“You almost looked more panicked than our patient did when he first came in. Word of advice for you—if this kind of thing is too much stress for you, then maybe you should reconsider your line of work.”
I blinked and felt a flush spreading across my face again, but this time, it was purely from rage. I cleared my throat. “I beg your pardon, doctor. But as I’ve said before, you should refrain from making assessments you are in no position to make—be in the type of bullet wound, or my competence as an emergency room nurse. So a word of advice for you—stick to what you know.”
The room fell so silent, the beeping of the patient’s heart monitor practically sounded like a siren. One of the other nurses attempted to pass the tablet to another, but dropped it, for her eyes were too busy darting between me and Dr. Sholly.
“Sorry,” she said hastily, kneeling to retrieve it, but the other nurse—Miles—beat her to it.
Gripping the clipboard in his hands, Miles cleared his throat. “No offense, Dr. Sholly—but Tessa really is one of the best nurses we have here. So if she ever left this line of work, it would be a real tragedy.”
Dr. Sholly shot Miles an annoyed glance and then turned back to the patient.
