Page 44 of Love or Leave

He'd finally gotten a new place—a small victory in what had been an endless shift.

He glanced up at his colleague, Ramit, smiling as he walked behind the nurses station in crisp scrubs with a tray of coffee in one hand. He pulled out a cup and handed it to Antonio.

"One of my worst nights," Antonio said, his voice hoarse from hours of barking orders.

He accepted a cup of coffee gratefully, the warmth seeping through his tired fingers as he tried to push away the image of the teenager they’d rushed in after the deadly crash. Collapsedlung, five broken ribs, significant blood loss—the kid would probably make it, which was more than he could say for the drunk driver who’d hit him.

"I heard about the pile up last night,” Ramit said, settling against the nurses’ station counter. “I kept expecting to get called in.”

Antonio nodded, flagging the apartment email to reply to later, then rolled his aching neck. "We managed. Thanks for the coffee."

"No problem," Ramit said.

"And thanks for covering for me this weekend."

Another nod. "Where are you off to?"

"Montreal for a bachelor party." The words felt strange in his mouth—when was the last time he’d done something that wasn’t related to work?

Ramit’s eyebrows jumped. "Wow. What's it like having a life?"

Antonio laughed. "Unusual. What's it like having a newborn?"

Ramit paused, considering. "Remember the sleep deprivation during residency?"

"Yeah."

"Like that, but worse. But also the best thing ever, somehow… It's complicated.” He straightened up as a nurse approached with a clipboard. “You ready to brief me?"

Antonio smiled, pocketing his phone. "Almost. I just have one more patient to see first." He grabbed a file the nurse handed him, the familiar weight of responsibility settling back on his shoulders.

"Sounds good."

Antonio gulped more coffee before taking the file and turning toward the patient’s curtained off area. He glanced through the triage notes. Seemed like this guy had a gnarly rash on his butt.

Great.

He pulled back the curtain as he looked at the file. Thirty-six-year-old male, allergic to penicillin—that might be a problem—believes he'd been in contact with poison ivy. Weird for tail end of November.

"Hi, there—"

Every thought died in his brain as he looked up and saw Fran.

And Blake.

He blinked a couple times, convinced the fatigue was creating apparitions.

"Hey!" Blake said from the bed with a big smile. "We know you."

"Hi, Tonio," Fran said, a sheepish look on her face. "I didn't know you were in."

"Hi," he said as a sudden coldness seeped into his gut.

He tried to make his overtired brain process everything. How had he not noticed Blake's name?

He inspected the file, then looked up. "Elliot Beebe?"

Fran frowned, then whipped her head toward Blake, who'd lounged back on the bed and laughed.

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