| Body |
"She's not an ex or a bunny, is she?"
"What? No. Cora and I went to school together. Her stepfather was my coach in high school. We were friends."
"Just friends?"
"Just friends. She's probably the only girl who's ever just been my friend. I've known her since kindergarten."
Until she wasn't my friend anymore.
Until I screwed it up.
____________
Cora
The night is busier than usual, and I've run myself ragged trying to keep up in the ER. As a nurse, I don't normally work the ER, but I've had trauma training, and when three nurses called off, I came in. The overtime will be a nice bonus. I'm behind on my rent, and I hope this extra money will help me not only catch up on that, but on the other bills as well.
"Cora!"
I glance up from my charts to see Mrs. Hesh, my supervisor in the ER, hurrying toward me. She looks panicked.
"What's wrong?"
"We have several VIP patients coming in. I need your help."
"Of course." I close the chart and put it back in the pile I still need to go through. "What do I need to know?"
"Several of the hockey players from the Raptors got injured and are being rushed here. We need to make sure they're taken care of straight away and that the team and coaches are kept informed of their status. Can you do that?"
"Shouldn't Shelia do that? She's the senior RN. I'm only filling in." Hockey players make me uneasy. Bad past experience.
"I don't trust her not to ask them all for autographs. She's a total fangirl."
My eyes widen. I didn't know Mrs. H. knew what that term even meant.
"And I heard you say you knew hockey."
"I do."
"Good. I trust you not to lose your mind when confronted by the team."
"No, ma'am, I won't."
"You may need to wrangle some of the other nurses, too. I'll be busy with the patients."
"They're not going to like it, especially the ones who have seniority over me."
"Does that mean you can't do it?" The older woman turns and looks me dead in the eye, hers shrewd and assessing.
But she can change my status here at the hospital. I'm not going to do anything to disappoint her. It says a lot she's trusting me with this.
"I can do it."
"Good."
We both rush to the ER entrance, waiting for the ambulances to arrive. I pull my ponytail down and redo it, tucking the loose strands of my heavy blonde hair behind my ear. I learned during my first real rotation to always keep my hair up and out of the way. Otherwise, you could get run over in a packed ER because you can't see when your hair is swinging everywhere.
It only takes a few moments for the first two ambulances to come screeching into the ER entrance, sirens blaring. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes for two seconds then move forward, meeting the ambulance doors and waiting for them to open. The first player out is Jamison O'Brian. He has a nasty cut to the face, and his leg is propped up and held immobile by the board strapped to it. He looks rough, but not in danger.
Dr. Billings waves him off with the nurse standing behind me. I don't remember the guy's name. I'm not down here enough to know everyone. The second ambulance holds a more serious injury. Myers is the name emblazoned on his jersey. His head is a bloody mess, as is his arm, a nasty looking gash that was most likely caused by a blade. That's going to keep him out for a couple of weeks at least, depending on any kind of nerve or muscle damage.
He goes with Ava, the other nurse down here from my regular floor. Ava and I are friends, and we both frown at the seriousness of the injury. Ava is a huge hockey fan, but she can be trusted not to lose her mind over treating a player, which is why she's been called out to meet the ambulances.
The last ambulance is the one Mrs. H. seems the most concerned with. As soon as the doors spring open and the EMTs start shouting stats, I get a good look at the unconscious man lying prone and bleeding on the stretcher.
All the air rushes out of my lungs, and all I can do is stare.
No. It can't be.
He's in Florida.
Not Minnesota.
"Cora?" The sharp tone snaps me out of my funk.
"Sorry. It's just I know him."
"You know him?"
We run after the stretcher.
"I went to school with him."
"Is this going to be a problem?"
"No, ma'am. I was just shocked is all. I hadn't realized he'd been traded to the Raptors. I'm good."
She nods and we get to work, me helping cut his clothes off, revealing the extent of his injuries. He has massive bruises on his abdomen, which might indicate internal bleeding. There's also a nasty cut along one thigh, and his shoulder is at an odd angle.
The doctors twist it back into its socket while he's unconscious. I wince when they do, glad he's unconscious for that. Resetting a shoulder is extremely painful. As the doctors do that, we keep working, helping to clean away the mess so they can evaluate him. The bleeding is stopped, and then he's gone to CT to make sure there was no damage to the brain and to see if he has internal bleeding where the bruising is.
I go to check on the next patient, who is currently complaining that he's fine and he doesn't need all the fuss.
The doctor and the male nurse are disagreeing with him, but he just gets louder. They do not know how to deal with hockey players, apparently. Or they don't want to upset a VIP patient. Either way, the patient's care comes first, even when said patient is acting like a big baby.
"Sit." My tone is sharp and commanding when he tries to get off the table. His brown eyes snap to mine, and I just arch a brow.
"I'm fine." He stands up, daring me to say a word. He has no idea he's dealing with someone who grew up around hockey players.
"You are not fine. Now, sit down before you fall down."
The nurse and doctor look at me like I've grown two heads, but O'Brian sits, a scowl on his face. He might terrify everyone else with that look, but not me.
"Don't give me that look. Your leg could be broken, and the more you stand on it, the more damage you'll be doing. Which means longer time off the ice. So stop being a whiney prick and let us take care of you so you can get back out there."
"Fine," he mutters, and I shake my head. Hockey players.
Mrs. H. stands to the side, a small smile on her face. "Cora, we need you in here, please."
I peel my gloves off and don a new pair when I push into the room where Myers sits, growling at everyone. The nurses are all a little too giddy and not really doing their job. Sighing, I push through them, snapping for them to get to work or get out.
The low chuckle from the bed catches my attention, and I arch that same brow. "That's a nasty cut, Mr. Myers."
"I've had worse." Dark green eyes dance with mischief even with the twinge of pain in them.
"I'm sure you have." Ava hustles over, looking exasperated. "Thanks for that. They weren't listening to me."
"No problem." Between the two of us, we get him stripped and cleaned, working around the doctors and getting them what they need as well. Soon he's hustled off to x-ray, and Ava and I take a moment to catch our breath.
"That was intense."
"I forget how surly they can be when they're hurt."
"Your stepfather was a high school coach, wasn't he?"
I nod, not really paying attention.
"So that's how you know so much about hockey."
We both jump at the sound of Mrs. H.'s voice. "Sorry, we just needed a moment."
"Understandable. Cora if you can go inform the team of what's going on, I'd appreciate it. They're camped out in the waiting room."
"And being very loud, I take it?"
Her lips twitch, and I know I'm right.
Sighing, I push off the wall and take a glance at the charts before walking down the hall to the waiting room.
I hear the noise before I even reach the doors. Loud isn't quite the word I'd use. Think of about thirty two-year-olds all screaming at the top of their lungs. That would be the most accurate picture of the noise coming from out there.
No fewer than six nurses, male and female alike, are trying to talk above the noise. But honestly, they're not asking about injuries or informing the team about the patients. They're talking about the game.
"Excuse me." I make myself louder than normal, but it's not doing a thing to get anyone attention.
So I do the one thing I know will get through. I put fingers to my lips and let out a whistle so shrill it hurts the ears. Another thing left over from my high school days. A little trick my stepfather taught me.
But it's effective, and every single bit of noise dies down.
"Thank you. Now, where is the head coach?"
He stands and walks forward. "I'm Coach Baptist."
"All three of your players are being taken care of. O'Brian's in x-ray, and Myers and Chandler are upstairs in CT. They're checking for head trauma and internal bleeding. As soon as we know more, I'll come out and let you know." I turn my attention back to the nurses. "You lot have things to do other than stand around out here and gossip. Get back to work."
"I outrank you." The snottiest of them grins.
"Yes, but Mrs. H. put me in charge. Sure you want to tell her why you decided to pull that snarky little comment out of your a$s?"
Her eyes widen, and she turns and marches back through the doors. Idiot.
"Well, what are the rest of you waiting for?"
They grumble but shuffle off.
Which leaves the team to deal with.
"Is there anyone else out here who needs medical attention?"
A collective shake of heads is the only answer.
"Now, I know you're all tired, and anxious to find out about your teammates, but this is a hospital. There are sick people here, and all this noise isn't helping."
More grumbling.
"I get it, guys, I do, but I swear if you don't settle down, you're going to deal with me, and trust me, ladder drills have nothing on my ire, so please do us all a favor and behave."
"Ladder drills, huh?" one player asks. "You know hockey?"
"Yes. Now, unless you guys need something, I'll be back when I have more to report."
I turn around, and a wolf whistle follows me.
It takes me two seconds to have the offender's ear in between my fingers. You'd be amazed at how quickly a man will come to heel with a little pressure on his earlobe.
"Ow!" he screeches.
"I'm not your honey, babe, or a bunny. I'm Nurse Stevens, and if you disrespect me again, I will have your balls. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I turn him loose and give them all a level stare. "Understand?"
A chorus of "yes, ma'ams" follow me as I turn around and disappear behind the doors leadings back to the ER.
Hockey players.
Cora
Has it really been only four hours since the worst shock of my life? But my trusty watch says it has. Thank God for all my training, or I might have run from the hospital and never come back.
Shaw Chandler.
Dear sweet baby Jesus.
I never expected to see him again, especially not in Minnesota, of all places. He swore he never wanted to play where it was cold ever again. The southern states or the warmer ones on the west coast are where he wanted to play. It's why I felt so safe moving here. Even though hockey is king in this state the same way football is in Texas, I knew he'd never play here.
But then, players don't dictate trades.
He might not have been given a choice.
And besides, it's not like he'd care I'm here, anyway.
We haven't spoken in over four years.
Shaking my head, I pull myself together and focus on the patient who needs the nausea meds. Poor man seems to have gotten food poisoning. He's thrown up three times since he got here twenty minutes ago. He's dehydrated, but the IV I put in with the fluids should start to help soon.
"Here you go, Mr. Croom. This will ease the nausea." I hand him the tablets and small paper cup. He takes it and swallows the pills down.
"God, I hope this stays down."
Me too. He threw up on me earlier.
Glancing at the clock, a sigh escapes when I see my shift is over. I can go home and forget I saw Shaw Chandler.
But the pale stillness of him when he came in worries me. Shaw was my best friend all throughout school, and as much as he hurt me, part of me still worries about him. I always will.
"I'm getting ready to leave, Mr. Croom, but Amber will be the charge nurse on duty. She should be by in just a few minutes. Is there anything you need before I go?"
He shakes his head miserably, and I smile encouragingly at him. Food poisoning is one of the worst things in the world.
"Hey, Cora."
Amber shoots me a smile when I walk over to the nurses' station to clock out on the computer.
"Watch that one. He's got food poisoning and has already thrown up on me."
"Ouch."
I wrinkle my nose. I smell like vomit, but at least I have on clean scrubs. I learned early on to keep several extra sets on hand.
I give her the rundown on the rest of the patients as I gather my things.
"I heard about the hockey mess that came in."
"Yeah. Two serious injuries and one very loud, very vocal team."
"We've had them in a few times over the years. Takes some wrangling."
"I handled it."
"I knew you could." She waves me off as I walk around the station. "See you tomorrow!"
No, she won't, but I don't bother mentioning that. Amber is one of the nicest people in this place, and I try not to let my snarky nature disrupt her bubbly attitude.
It's not until I'm in the elevator stepping off onto the floor where Shaw is that I realize I've even done it. I shouldn't be here. I know it, but I'm worried.
He looked so pale.
Groaning at my own gluttony for punishment, I walk down the hall to his room. No one is around. He's probably still passed out. He had a nasty concussion, but because of the surgery to repair his spleen, he had to have anesthesia. If I remember correctly, he doesn't respond well to the stuff. It knocks him out for days afterward, so I should be good just to sneak in and check to make sure he's okay.
But he's not alone. One of the nurses from the waiting room is standing there, taking photos on his phone.
What the...
"Just what the heck do you think you're doing?"
He whirls around, and his eyes go round.
I whip out my phone and text Mrs. H. She's the one nurse I know who will take care of this.
"What are you doing?" he asks, voice low.
"Texting my supervisor to let her know what you're doing."
He looks from the phone to me and then shrugs. He knows he can sell those photos for a few hundred thousand, easy. It's no biggie if he gets fired. He breezes by me and out the door.
Oh, he did not!
Running after him, I catch his arm and pull him around. "You're not..."
"Don't make me hurt you, babe." His tone is threatening, but it doesn't register. All I'm thinking about is those photos.
Photos of Shaw when he's vulnerable and unable to defend himself.
"You are not getting out of here with those pictures."
"You going to stop me, babe?"
Without thinking, I grab his phone and slam it on the ground, smashing it in the process. Well, cracking the screen more than the phone flying into little bits and pieces.
"You little bimbo!"
And before I can dodge, his fist has connects with my face.
Everyone on the floor sees it.
He seems to notice and tries to run, but one of the hockey guys from downstairs is only a few steps away and snags him.
"You okay, Cora?" Natalee, one of my good friends, asks as she helps me up. "Did you hit your head?"
The pain vibrating across my cheek is horrible. The bruise is going to be epically bad. My head does hurt, but it's not as bad as the cheek.
"She broke my phone!" the offender shouts.
"That doesn't give you the right to hit a girl, dude." Mr. Tall Dark and Deadly hockey player doesn't look impressed with the nurse's outburst.
Mrs. H. arrives and, seeing my face, rushes over to check it, her fingers gentle on my jaw. "This needs x-rayed."
"It'll be fine." I can't afford a hospital bill. Even with our insurance taking care of most of the bill, I still can't afford what would be left.
"No, it won't," she rebukes. "Or do I need to pull the same spiel you gave earlier?"
I try to smile, but it hurts too much.
"Now, is this the man you texted about?"
I nod. "Yes, ma'am. He was taking pictures of Sha...Mr. Chandler. When he tried to run, I smashed his phone. I'm sorry about that, but it's the only thing I could think to do. Our job is to take care of our patients, not exploit them when they're unconscious."
"He did what?" The voice of the player holding the nurse drops two octaves and turns from soft to hard so fast it would make your head spin. Even those pretty brown eyes have gone so cold and dark, they're nearly black.
"She's lying!"
"I don't think so." Mrs. H. collects the smashed phone off the floor. "The police should be able to pull any photos from the phone. It's not damaged too badly."
The man's face pales.
"We'll take care of this." Mrs. H. turns to Natalee. "Get her checked in then off to x-ray. Someone will be by to fill out an incident report, and Cora, don't worry about the bill. You won't be getting one since it's a work-related injury."
Her expression dares me to argue, so instead I pull out my own phone and text my babysitter that I'll be later than I thought. At least I don't have to worry about one more bill I can't afford.
When I get back from x-ray, they don't take me down to the ER like I expected. They bring me back to Shaw's floor and to a room.
Natalee winks when she comes in. "Can't have one of ours down there in the mess."
I smile gratefully, knowing she pulled a few strings. This is my normal floor, and I love the nurses I work with up here.
"You got some ninja skills, girlfriend."
"Ha, if I had skills, I wouldn't have gotten hit."
"Yeah, I didn't see that coming either. I was already up and coming over when you snatched Marty's phone, but I wasn't able to stop him. Sorry."
I wave off her apology. "How much longer do you think this is going to be? Noah's already up and probably mad that I'm not there to make his breakfast."
"How is the kiddo?"
"He's good, adjusting better than I thought he would when we moved out here."
"It had to be hard on him. When John and I moved here two years ago, our daughter declared us horrible people and said she'd never forgive us."
"How'd that go?"
"She was five. She got over it when we took her ice skating."
I laugh and then wince. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."
"Sorry." She hands me the cup of coffee she'd been holding. "I brought this for you. It's from the stand outside, not the cafeteria. Thought you'd need some caffeine."
"Thanks, Nat."
"Anytime. I have to go check on patients, but the doctor shouldn't be too long. He has to haul it up from the ER, so..."
I shrug. It'll probably be a while longer than she let on. I'll drink my coffee and try not to focus on the man a few doors down from me.
The one I shouldn't even have checked on.
But I'm glad I did. No matter what happened between Shaw and me, no one deserves to have their photo taken while they're at their most vulnerable. Especially not by the people who are supposed to be taking care of them.
"Knock, knock." The hockey player who snagged the nurse walks in. "that looks bad."
"I'd say it looks worse than it feels, but I'd be lying."
He comes closer, his hands in his pockets. His black hoodie with the Raptors logo isn't nearly as dark as his hair. The stubble on his face gives him a rakish look. He reminds me of a pirate and is way hotter than Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. The man is gorgeous, and he knows it. It's the way he moves, the confidence of his stride.
I take a sip of my coffee, careful to blow on it first.
"That's not from the cafeteria."
"Nope. There's a little coffee vendor outside the hospital. Better than Starbucks."
"No sh-it?"
"No sh-it."
"Good to know."
After he stands there awkwardly for a full minute, I decide to put him out of his misery. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Oh...uh...I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay." He doesn't sound nearly as confident as his stride. He sounds nervous.
"I'm good."
"And to thank you for what you did."
"Not necessary. I'm sorry it happened. I didn't think anyone here would do something like that."
"You'd be surprised at what people will do for money." The darkness lurking in his eyes tells me that he's well acquainted with the subject.
Another minute goes by, and then his phone buzzes. He pulls it out and frowns at the message.
"Everything okay?"
He sighs. "My kid has terrorized another nanny. She's threatening to quit."
Now that, I smile at. "My son went through three sitters when we moved here six months ago. He was adjusting to a new place, a new city, and sitters he didn't know."
"My son has lived here his whole life, which is all of four years. He loves to cause chaos, and the nannies I hire don't like the chaos. I wish he was more like his sister. She's as sweet as can be."
I laugh at that, not caring about the wince. "Three- and four-year-old little boys are a handful and take a certain brand of crazy to deal with all its own."
"That they do." He smiles, and it lights up his entire face. "I'm Blaine Kirkos, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Mr..."
He's shaking his head, interrupting me before I can get the word out. "No mister. Call me Blaine. We parents have to stick together. At least now I know how you handled a room full of hockey players and wrangled Myers and O'Brian. They said you were like a little general, daring them to disobey you."
"Hockey players are very much like little boys."
"I'm not saying I agree, but..."
"But you do."
His smile is my only answer.
"So, I was thinking I could get you tickets to a game or something...to say thank you for taking care of everyone and stopping that guy from getting away with photos."
"Oh, no, that's okay. You don't have to do that."
"But I want to."
"I work most nights you guys have games."
"You could switch a shift or call in..."
"Can't call in. Bills to pay and all that."
"How about I send you tickets, and if you can come, then you come?"
I start to tell him thank you but no when the doctor comes in. He glances at Blaine and does a double take. "Oh, Mr. Kirkos, I didn't know you knew Cora."
He winks at me and shakes the doctor's hand. "Just in here checking on our favorite nurse. I'll let you talk to her so she can get out of here and home to her son. I'll be seeing you Nurse Stevens!"
He walks out whistling, and the doctor turns to me, one eyebrow raised. I refrain from saying a word, and when he realizes I'm not about to gossip, he gets down to business. My cheekbone is not fractured as they'd feared, but it's going to hurt like crazy. He offers pain meds, and I decline, so he writes me a prescription for Ibuprofen 800 and calls it a day.
Once my discharge papers are firmly in hand, I tell Natalee goodbye and waver in front of Shaw's door. Giving in to temptation, I go in and walk over to the bed.
He's just as gorgeous as I remember. His skin is darker, pecked by the Florida sun. The blond hair that always made him look like the boy next door is lighter, sun bleached from days spent on the beach. His eyes are a dark stormy gray, and even though they're closed, I can picture them. His body has filled out a lot since the last time I saw him. He's become the man that the boy only hinted at.
"Hey..."
I turn to see Natalee come in. She's got questions in her eyes, but I shrug, not up to answering them.
"How is he?" I ask instead.
"In and out of consciousness, which is good, especially with the concussion. Surgery was successful, but he's not going to be on the ice anytime soon. Nasty concussion."
I nod. It's what I assumed when they started talking about concussions in the ER. At least he's okay. I can go home and forget about him now.
"Tinkerbell?"
The hoarsely whispered word pulls my attention to pain-filled eyes. He's staring at me with an intensity that's hard to shake.
But I have to.
Without a word, I turn and walk out of the room.
|