Jacked (8 page)

“You okay? Mandy told me your uncle made it through the first twelve hours. Were you up in ICU?”

Hearing that name leave his lips was like a harsh slap to the face and a knife in the back at the same time, instantly knocking me out of my stupor. Being reminded of how my last love had gutted me so effectively with that tramp from Radiology was the last thing I needed while privately suffering through my family tragedy.

Randy and Mandy—what a joke.

An icy chill ran through my bones recalling that final fight, the seething anger and agonizing disappointment, the way I dumped dresser drawers and threw his clothing out of my bedroom and out of my life.

What he ever saw in her, I’d never know. Perhaps if she had some redeeming qualities I might understand the attraction and why he chose to cheat on me with her, but she wasn’t even a nice person. She was the term
bitch
personified, always snipping at everyone like an overindulged spoiled brat and committing my number one pet peeve by talking about people behind their backs incessantly.

I nodded my answer and wrapped my stethoscope around my neck, confused by his close proximity and the gentle rubbing he was doing on my arm. To think how much I used to crave that touch or any semblance of emotional nurturing from him.

“Yeah, thanks. It’s been… rough.” I pulled my arm away from him before my body caved into the attention. It had taken me months and lots of tears to resolve that the love I thought I had felt for him was totally one-sided and definitely unrequited.

Randy hesitantly reached for me again but I moved farther away. He lost the privilege of touching me a long time ago. “So I, um, I have to get to work, but thanks.”

“I’m worried about you. Despite what you might think, I still care. If you need anything, you know, well—”

My hand shot out. “Save it. Just save it.” Self-preservation had me darting away from him as quickly as my feet would carry me. The last thing I needed was his pity. I headed toward our automated white-board to check our caseload instead, replaying the subtle nuances of our one-minute interlude, hating the part of me that still craved him. My mind was barraged with fragmented memories: his smile, his kiss, the feel of his hands roaming my body. How I tried so hard and failed so miserably. How the little he
did
give me just wasn’t enough.

I fought the urge to turn back, to glance his way just one more time to see if he’d had some magical change of heart and I was the one he truly wanted, but the emptiness I carried told me he may have been what I had wanted but he was definitely not what I needed.

After all this time, after all the tears I shed for him from how he’d broken my heart into tiny fragments, he still affected me. No, the quicker I could get away from him the better. My self-worth was more valuable.

Falling for him was such a huge mistake…

I heard another deep voice call out my name, this time making me flinch with nervous worry
. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

On command, I followed our Chief Resident Director, Doctor Sam Wilson, into his office; the fear of being in trouble quickly replacing lingering thoughts of broken promises.

“Have a seat,” he instructed in his no bullshit tone. Being under his direct tutelage for my entire residency, I was well-versed in his moods but still slightly intimidated by him.

“I’m surprised to see you on shift,” he started, giving me a lukewarm smile.

That made two of us, surprised, that was, by his line of questioning. If he mentions my almost arrest I was going to lose it. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

He frowned at me. “Your family had a major setback last night, Erin. I consulted with Doctor Sechler.”

I’d seen plenty of people fired over the years for their poor work ethics so I felt I needed to justify—immediately. “I know and I’m sorry. I’m actually glad we’re meeting now. I had fully intended to discuss my behavior with you. I want you to know that it won’t happen again. I should not have frozen up like that receiving a patient. It was very unprofessional of me to let my team down like that and to allow personal familiarity to detract from my attention to the patient’s care—”

His hand flew up. “Whoa, Erin, stop. Everyone understands. This was a relative of yours, not some stranger. You’re not impervious, for God’s sake. No one is blaming you or thinking anything less of you.”

“But—”

“But nothing. It could happen to any one of us seeing a family member come in as a trauma patient, and considering the circumstances, you held yourself together better than most.”

I nodded even though I wholeheartedly disagreed, feeling the cold shock of tattered nerves seep into my fingertips. He eyed me as I wrung my hands.

“In my eighteen years in this position I have only had a handful of residents who have worked as hard as you do. In all honesty, I felt like a proud father when you completed your residency but you’re too hard on yourself. No one is questioning your leadership and dedication, especially not me, but you have to realize that you’re no good to anyone while you have a loved one two floors up in critical care.” With that, he crossed his legs, his telltale sign of getting down to business. “Have you checked in with Doctor Giffords yet?”

Shit. Chief neurosurgeon. Not good.
“No, sir. I just got here.”

He gave me a superficial smile. I knew exactly what it meant. “I know this is a difficult time for you. I hope you can also use this experience and learn from it and expand your growing knowledge of TBIs.”

My nerves took another jump. If he only knew just how much experience I’d already had dealing with traumatic brain injuries after my sister’s accident, he’d be astounded. But that was another area of my personal history I kept tightly under wraps. After all, it was my fault it happened in the first place. If I hadn’t been so self-absorbed in my own problems, Kate would have never suffered.

“Don’t let your family’s loss be in vain.”

I gasped, unable to swallow. “Has he—?”

Again with the fatherly smile.
“No, but things are not looking promising. Unless he makes an upswing in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, you and your family should probably prepare. Take some time off. I’m giving you permission to deal with the human side of medicine, Doctor.”

I shook my head vehemently. “I don’t need time off, sir. I have my interview with the Fellowship committee in three weeks and I need to be prepared. I
need
that fellowship, Sam. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Doctor Wilson held up his hand again, halting me. “I’ve known that for years. It’s not new news. I’ve already sent in my letter of recommendation. Doctor Gaudet and Doctor Chanpreet have submitted theirs as well. Everyone knows how badly you want your medical toxicology residency, although I have to again say that I feel you’re making a big career mistake. You’ve never been too keen on sitting on your butt in the lab, Erin.” He drew in a leveling breath. “I know you have some personal goal here but I think you’re going to be miserable and I really wish you’d reconsider. The Assistant Director position we discussed is still on the table as an option, should you want to reconsider it. Continue to study toxicology on the side if it’s still your passion. It will only add to your value in emergency medicine. But honestly, I’ve watched you grow and thrive and I truly believe
here
is where your true calling is.”

I shook my head, though after all this time, it had become somewhat automatic. “My goal has always been singular.”

“It means a huge pay cut too. Keep that in mind.”

He studied me. “I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you. Well, think about it. No final decisions need to be made, but for now, for today and tomorrow, I think you should take some time to regroup.”

I could see his point but being dismissed because of my own emotional weakness was not something I could stomach either. “Sam, I’m fine, really. I’ll go check in on things up in ICU and then I’ll be back on the floor. I just need maybe an hour—”

His hand slapped down on the desk. “Damn it, Erin. No.”

I cringed back in my chair slightly, caught off guard by his angry retort. I had heard him yell plenty of times over the years, but I loathed myself every time it was directed toward me. “I can do this. I’m not going to let my team down because of it. We’re already short staffed tonight.”

His reprimanding glare was slightly intimidating, like when your father expressed his disappointment. “I thought you of all people realize that when you go in there without your head in the game that’s when critical mistakes are made. Just because it’s
you
, don’t think you’re immune. I’m not going to let you risk it, even if you’re too damn stubborn to realize that for yourself. We’ll manage. You go home.”

Stubborn?
As if I’d never heard that one before. Usually there were other adjectives to go along with that one but now was probably not the best time to be defiant, especially since I’d schooled other residents on the importance of focus.

I knew if I went home, I’d wallow in my thoughts. “I didn’t drive.”

“Can someone pick you up?”

“No, I need to keep busy. I’ll just…” I didn’t know what I’d just do.

“Go see your family. Go rest in the on-call room. Just no patients tonight.”

As if I’d be able to rest
. After I’d been dismissed with my marching orders, I pressed the button for the elevator, knowing he’d follow through with his threat to have me physically removed from the ER if he saw me in there anywhere tonight. I chose being smart over being foolish—for now.

I checked my pager, wondering if Doctor Sechler was available for consult.

No sooner did I make it through the security doors of the ICU, I spotted my mom sitting stoically by my Uncle Cal’s side, her cheeks pale and worn with emotional exhaustion, rubbing his non-responsive hand.

THESE BASTARDS ARE
going to nail me to the cross today. I just fucking know it.

Marcus had warned me earlier at the gun range that the guys were going to be relentless tonight, but what was I supposed to do? Not show up for work?

Screw that. I had shit to do.

I headed down the florescent-lit hallway and its dingy walls to our main briefing room, flicked on the lights, not surprised that I was the first one in. And tonight, I was an extra hour early, but not by choice. I grabbed a copy of the hot sheet and got comfortable in my ratty-ass tan desk chair, knowing I had some time to kill. It creaked in protest as I leaned back, like a crotchety old man too weathered by years of hard living to move.

Something sharp dug into my elbow and I wondered for a moment if the chair had grown teeth, hungry to take a bite out of me too. The armrest was all but gone, held together with my repeated attempts to repair it with duct tape. Despite its sad condition, good, bad, or otherwise we were partners, and right then and there I made the decision to wheel him home after shift, see if I could replace the faithful arms propping me up.

I straightened the page and perused the list, hoping I’d find something that would distract me from thinking about not just one but two major traffic accidents that happened on our watch and the blood and gore that coated both of them.

I rubbed my neck. Restful sleep had eluded me again. The nightmare had me sitting straight up in bed this time, gasping. The gunshot, the vacant look on my partner’s face after the bullet penetrated his skull, all followed by the silver charm bracelet dangling on the charred remains of another ghastly memory. I rubbed my eyes.

The only thing keeping me from falling into another downward spiral was visualizing that gorgeous doctor we pulled over this morning. Every time the anger, frustration, and haunting images started to swell I’d force my thoughts back to her, finding the memory of her bright enough to break through the darkness.

Her long, dirty-blonde hair had just enough wave in it to make me fantasize what it might feel like threaded through my fingers. Those killer blue eyes and soft cheeks naturally blushed with the cold hit me every time I blinked. Recalling how she fought through an extremely shitty situation to rally in the end with her extraordinary heroics tangled up with images of her sexy mouth and plump lips.

I felt tight in my skin and my chest ached, as if this random female had managed to turn me inside out somehow. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds before returning to visions of her. My imagination was having a field day with its vivid depictions.

I rubbed a thumb over my breastbone. Funny, thinking of her had gotten me through that burning urge to dull the pain in other ways.
Huh. I wonder if it would be harmful to my health to be addicted to a hot doctor instead.

Hot sheet. Concentrate on the hot sheet.

I tried to look at the paper in my hand but the print distorted; its allure paled in comparison. I finally managed to note the makes and models of a few high-end vehicles reported stolen this morning, which immediately took over my attention. I sat forward in my chair, circling several on the list with my pen.