Page 11 of Fractured

I stand a little straighter, shocked at the direction my day is going. Trying to demonstrate my appreciation for her candor as well as the gratitude I wasn’t being completely shut down, I grin down at her in response. “Well, that’s refreshing. I quite honestly never know what to think after the way the tree incident ended, Ms. Kelly.”

Swiftly, I observe her jubilant face turn blank. Fuck, have I embarrassed her?What the hell is wrong with you?I try to prepare for her admonishment of my bringing up our passionate liaison, much less the fact that I did it at work. Perhaps I should hastily apologize for that too. Before I can assemble an appropriate defense of my blunder, I hear Kat’s tremulous voice coming out in nearly a whisper.

“Tree incident?”

Chapter Five

Kat

“Kat, could you come to room twenty-one? The docs are all tied up, and the squad just brought in someone who could be a code stroke,” the medic asks frantically.

“Sure, Bennett,” I reply on autopilot, jumping from my seat.

Looking up at Nick, I toss out, “Sorry. Gotta run.” Then I quickly follow Bennett toward the patient’s room.

As I enter, I notice Donovan Grant at the patient’s bedside. He must have just arrived for the evening. “Hey, Donovan, you got this?”

“Yeah, Kat, but could you put the code stroke orders in the computer and call to get her a CT scan?”

“Of course,” I reply, glad to help in any way I can. Swiftly spinning to head for the computer, I collide with a muscular torso. The hard, firm torso of a domineering firefighter.

“Ah, nice to see you again, Kat. Drop-in anytime,” Mark lilts into my ear.

Again, feeling more unease than I should around someone I’ve considered a friend, I try to stay professional. “Hey, Mark. Sorry, I have to attend to the code stroke. Time is brain,” I advise and make haste to put distance between us. Every minute counts when you’re trying to care for a stroke patient, as early treatment is key to a full recovery. I head for the overcrowded physicians’ workstation and choose a lone computer sandwiched between two occupied stations. I spend much longer at this location than needed, hoping Mark will move on when he realizes I’m not in a position to talk. The orders have been placed, but I continue to see Mark’s partner nearby, so I decide to text Olivia. I need someone to ground me after this day. Maybe she can meet me later.

1:00 p.m.

Kat: Hi. What you up to? Any chance you’re free for dinner? It’s been a tough day.

1:05 p.m.

Olivia

Olivia: Sure. I’m free tonight. What time?

1:07 p.m.

Kat: I’m off at 7:00. I’ll meet you anywhere.

1:10 p.m.

Olivia

Olivia: How about Luigi’s?

Thinking back to my pasta with Mel the other night, I shrug. Why not? It’s only calories.

They’re the least of my worries right now.

1:12 p.m.

Kat: That’s perfect. See ya at 7:30.

* * *

I’ve never been so glad to see a shift end. Heading for the parking lot, I jump in my car and head straight for Luigi’s. Thank goodness I always keep a spare set of clothes in my locker, so I don’t have to go home before heading out for the evening. I’m not usually one for pasta several times in one week, but my interest in meeting Olivia is more for the company than the food.

I pull into the familiar parking lot of the restaurant I’ve frequented since my youth. There are many Italian Bistros in the area, some expensive, some not. But Luigi’s will always be a favorite. The food is fast, inexpensive, and phenomenal. It’s always amazed me how comforting the delicious meals are, and yet I never break the bank. It was the one indulgence I afforded myself in college. And the portion sizes guarantee leftovers.

---