“I’ll stay. Thank you.” Suit yourself, I think. His jaw ticks and I wonder what his deal is. He seems pissed at the world. I get that his friend is hurt, but does he have to be such a dickhead? Aren’t Firemen supposed to be polite?
“Well, you need to get out of my way if you are.”
He reluctantly takes a seat in the chair he vacated.
“Wanna tell me what happened then?” I say as I wash my hands.
Kyle proceeds to tell me about the fire, the staircase caving in, and how his friend saved him. I look over at the asshole, and he glares right back at me.
I pause to make notes on the file. He’ll need an X-ray and some blood work. The doctor will tell him that when she comes in. I use scissors to cut open the leg of his pants so I can see the damage. He flinches even at the slightest touch. Definitely a break. I use gauze and some water to clean up the scrapes on his leg and the small cut on his face and put up an IV drip.
“Ah, Ocea, back already? You and I shouldn’t bother leaving for the night,” Dr. Kent says in a cheery voice as she steps into the bay.
I smirk. “They should get us cots so we can move right in.” She’s right. We’re always working double shifts and extended hours. She’s recently divorced, and throwing herself into work has been her coping strategy. It seems to be working. Moira is less angry and more herself. It sucks to have your husband cheat on you, then blame it on the fact that you can’t have kids. As if Dr. Kent asked to have her womb removed at twenty-six after an accident said husband caused driving intoxicated.
“So, how are we doing over here?” she asks Kyle.
“Just fine and dandy, ma’am. Sweet like chocolate,” Kyle drawls, and I have to hold back a snicker. Dr. Kent has that effect on men. She’s a sexy, redheaded bombshell, with eyes as green as emeralds. I’ve always thought she’d make a perfect Poison Ivy. The man is obviously smitten.
“This is Mister Kyle Wills, Doc, seems to have a broken leg, and I’ve written him down for a blood test and a chest X-ray. He was injured in a house fire,” I summarize. “His vitals are satisfactory, blood pressure slightly elevated, but it’s understandable.”
“You good with that, Mr. Wills—”
“Oh, it’s just Kyle to you, Doc.” He licks his lips, and I have to stifle a laugh.
“Down boy,” she warns. “I’d also like an ABG on him for the smoke inhalation. Just to be sure. He sounds a bit phlegmy,” Dr. Kent says, and I scribble that down.
“Bloods and ABG on them both. Mr…? I suggest, motioning to where Bossy frowns from his seat in the corner.
“Wild,” he answers, his head cocked to the side, observing me. If only his looks could make up for his stinking attitude.
“Mr. Wild also had some smoke exposure,” I add.
“It’s unlikely I was affected. Yeah, I was exposed for a few minutes, but I feel fine. So no. I don’t need treatment,” he bites, his jaw set, eyes hard and unrelenting.
“As you wish,” I shrug, turning back to the chart. “I was just trying to be helpful. Doing my job.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not your patient, Ms. Nightingale,” he sneers.
“Is that supposed to be a dig?” I snort. Pretty lame.
“Take it any way you like, sweetheart.” He smirks. The man is riling me up. I’m about to retort when Doctor Kent interrupts, “All right, shall we get Mr. Wills to radiology?”
I nod before taking my leave. The things I want to say to that cocky bastard.
I call the lab and a porter to take my patient to radiology.
“What was that about?’ Dr. Kent asks when she joins me at the nurses’ station.
“Argh. I don’t know. I’m probably just tired. Letting that guy get to me.”
“He is pretty frustrating.” She scrunches her nose. “That smug attitude.”
“We should head to Bay 5,” I tell her. “A teenager brought in by his parents with ‘food poisoning’,” I say with air quotes. “Boy is reeking of alcohol and other things I won’t admit to knowing about.”
“This ought to be fun. Let’s run toxicology and let it speak for us.” She laughs as we make our way toward the triage.
It’s still raining outside when I finally make it out a few hours later. I rush over to my old Mazda and climb in, wanting nothing more than to get home. This has been an extra-long day. The car's interior is stuffy, and I rub my hands together to warm them, inwardly cursing that my heating is bust. Rain pelts down on the roof and against the windows. I turn the key, and old faithful doesn’t start. “Come on,” I hiss, trying again. “Shit, shit, shit.” I slam my fist against the steering wheel. “Not on a night like this.”
I pop the hood and get out. I hook it up and look down at the engine. God, I wish I knew more about cars. I didn’t think I had to. Tate used to take care of those things for a while. Then I remind myself that I’m better off without him. I was just a gullible girl who fell for a man twice my age, a man who wanted an escape from reality, and I was dumb enough to give him that. It was all in my head, what I thought he felt for me. I used to believe in fairy tales, and what I got was quite the opposite.
I start to kick the car’s bumper until my feet hurt. Until all the things I want to say to the ghosts of my past are drowned out by the rain, until I stand spent, tears of hurt and anger washing away like the dreams I used to have.
“Don’t know what she did, but it’s gonna hurt you more than it hurts her.” Wild’s husky voice brings me back to the present. I must look like a psychopath, kicking my car, standing out here in the rain, shouting. “Need me to take a look?”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” I respond without turning to face him.
“Look, I picked up a thing or two about cars over the years, probably not as much as you, but you should get out of the rain,” he snickers.
I close my eyes. I should be stubborn and stand my ground. He’s been nothing but an asshole to me, and he doesn’t even know me. That, and his attempt at humor sucks. But fuck am I tired.
“Come on. It’s the least I can do for being a jerk back there. I’m just not good with people.” So he noticed.
“Fine,” I huff, making my way to the driver’s side of my car. My clothes are soaked, and I’m freezing. I can’t calm my rapid breathing. He knocks on my window a few minutes later. I roll it down, rain beating on my face. His dark hair hangs on his forehead.
“It’s the alternator. Looks like she isn’t going anywhere, at least not tonight.” I rub my hands over my face, letting out a breath. When it rains, it fucking pours.
“Thanks for what it’s worth.” I let out a breath.
“No worries. You need me to drop you off someplace? A friend of mine brought my truck over. I could give you a ride.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ll just call a towing company. They’ll drop me off.”
“Suit yourself,” he says as he pushes away from the door. I watch him stroll away from the car. I roll up my window and grit my teeth. That man is infuriating. I pull out my cell phone, and surprise, my battery is dead. I’m going to have to go back inside and use Tamara’s.