Page 12 of The Exception

While she was well aware of how the DC metro system could be fine one minute and ten minutes late the next, it wasn’t her problem. Cutting him off, she stated, “Your excuses won’t make you any less late.”

He just stared at her, his navy scrubs making his eyes appear so much more blue than she remembered them being, and she internally kicked herself for noticing that detail before filing it away in her mental repository of unimportant information. It didn’t matter that he had pretty blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes. All that mattered right then was that he was late, he didn’t seem to care that he was late, and both of those things were unacceptable.

Those midnight eyes traced across her face like he was trying to figure her out before his expression sobered and he nodded.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised.

She nodded once, glad that whatever he’d read in her features had stopped him from challenging her further.

Tucking the charts of the patients they’d be seeing that morning under her arm and grabbing her coffee with the other, she started moving toward the patient’s rooms. Eventually she heard his heavy footsteps as he rushed to catch up before falling into step next to her.

“As you know, this is the psychiatric floor and your curriculum requires a little bit more than what we typically handle. I’ve worked it out with the powers that be to allow us to spend mornings up here so I can attend to my patients and our afternoons will be spent assisting other wards,” she explained.

An unexpected bright side of babysitting a paramedic intern was the diverse experience they were required to have. She was a psychiatric nurse, but the NP after her name meant she was qualified to work anywhere in the hospital and this gave her the opportunity to see different kinds of patients experiencing issues that she hadn’t handled since her own internship. This had her excitement ready to bubble over at the deal she’d struck with hospital administration.

It was unorthodox and getting it approved had taken a little bit of arm twisting, but after reading through the preceptor paperwork, it was the only way to make sure every box was checked. She was nothing if not thorough.

“Sounds like I’ll get some excitement on this rotation after all,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“I signed up for an emergency rotation and you have to admit that psych is about as far away from that as you can get.”

Ugh. She should have known that’s how he’d see it.

“Is that why you want to be a paramedic? Excitement? Because we don’t need another hero complex roaming these halls.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he argued with a little more bite than she’d anticipated. Regardless, it was her job to nip that kind of attitude in the bud.

“I have a knack for reading people and you’re an open book,” she countered. “I’m not here to make sure you have a good time, Intern Travis. I’m here to make sure you learn how to be a good paramedic so that you are able to save lives. It may not be as flashy as ED, but our psych patients can teach you a lot about what it takes to truly help people.”

To his credit, he looked chastened. “I know what you do here is important and I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” he stammered.

Ignoring his half-ass apology, she said, “I need you to understand that psych takes priority no matter what is going on anywhere else. We’ll come back here if I’m called, no questions asked. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She stopped just outside of the door leading to the room where their first patient was waiting to be seen.

“Alright then. Let’s see what you can do when you’re not pretending to be a doctor.”

He groaned. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

She had to grin at his discomfort. “You only get one chance to make a first impression and unfortunately for you, that was yours.”

* * *

“Where the hell did you get this kid? You find him wandering the streets and decide to give him a needle?”

Sonya stifled a triumphant grin and glared at the back of Trav’s head. “He used to be an army medic, Ms. Wesley. I assure you he’s qualified to put in an IV. Right, intern?”

Trav answered through gritted teeth. “I’ve put in a hundred of them at least. While taking fire,” he mumbled.

The elderly woman let out a dramatic groan. “Wouldn’t know it from the way he handles that thing. Like a kid with a crayon.”

Trav’s jaw twitched as he prepared to stick Ms. Wesley for the third time. It was true that he was totally sucking at this, but Ms. Wesley had a reputation for dramatics. A lot of their patients did, but this one could be especially insulting on her bad days.

Sonya watched a bead of sweat form on her intern’s brow, taking far too much pleasure in the way the woman’s heckling got to him.

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