Page 5 of The Trauma Response
“Got it from here,” the paramedic says and immediately starts looking over her patient. It isn’t until the paramedic makes eye contact with Tallulah, that she realizes who is on her stretcher. The woman’s eyes go wide and she gasps. “Dr. Whitmore? Dr. Whitmore, oh my goodness!”
“Mmm,” Tallulah hums, exhausted. She reaches for me and tries to grab my hand, but she can’t force her fingers to wrap around my wrist. I take hers in mine and step closer. “Stay withme. Please.” Her voice trembles and her lip quivers. “Please stay with me.”
I glance at Swanson, who nods. “Go ahead. We’ve got this under control. We’ll swing by and pick you up after we get this mess cleared.”
The paramedic in charge, now over her initial shock, instructs the others what to do and where to go. Once Tulip is in the back of the ambulance, the paramedic inserts an intravenous catheter in her arm and begins fluids and pain medications. A plethora of questions follows, along with some medical jargon I can’t decipher, but the two seem to understand one another.
All the while, I hold Tulip’s hand. Just like she held mine while my parents tore into me for disobeying them and diving off the high board. Our friendship skipped about ten years, but here we are. Together. In the back of an ambulance once again.
Chapter three
One Month Ago…
Eight weeks of recovery time and I still don’t have full feeling in my left hand. The accident caused a lot more damage than I had originally thought. A complex nerve laceration has me worried I mightneverbe the same again. Though the surgeon was able to repair it, only time will tell if I will regain feeling. Even then, it might not be enough to get back to what I love—surgery.
Staring out the window of my brother’s car, I try not to let the rain get me down. I’m already about as far down as I can get, but the rain drags me into the depths of despair along with a load of bad memories. It drudges up things I’d rather forget. Fortunately, the accident only involved the deer and my car and no one else was hurt. Unfortunately, I’m about to lose my mind from boredom and the constant loss of sensation in my hand. Ican’t even grip my toothbrush. Not that it matters since I’m right handed, but what if Iwantto brush my teeth with my left hand? A girl should be able to change up her hygiene routine without consulting with her neurosurgeon.
“You okay over there?” Jackson asks, glancing at me. This trip is all his idea, but I need it. Staying at Mom and Dad’s the past eight weeks has been misery. It’s not their fault, but I’m used to living on my own, doing things my way. Call me crazy, but no adult woman wants her mother to cut her food for her and remind her to clear her plate for dessert.
“Yeah. Thinking about moving back into my own house,” I admit.
“Can you? I mean, I know you don’t want to live back home with Mom and Dad, but I don’t want you to move too fast.” Jackson looks over again and I tense.
“Can you pay attention to the road?” I snap.
He grumbles and regrips the wheel.
“Yes, I can go home. I hired someone to do meal prep for me and to run errands. I’m perfectly capable of doing the other things I need to do while I heal. Besides, if I need anything, Mom and Dad are literally a fifteen minute drive away."
I shift in my seat, anxious to get this adventure over with. Of course, I don’t mind stopping by the firehouse to thank Caius for helping me that fateful night, but I’m not exactly in the mood to speak toanyone,let alone our long-lost childhood friend. He’d been such a hero that night, even stayed with me at the hospital until my parents arrived and his chief made him go back to work. Still, I wouldn’t mind waiting another few weeks to dive back in to society.
“I can come by and help you with some stuff if you want,” Jackson says, but his idea of helping is mixing up all of my clothes and turning them colors they aren’t supposed to be. He doesn’t rinse the dishes before he puts them in the dishwasher,and he overwaters plants until they practically drown. I have no idea how Denise, his wife, puts up with him.
“I think you should send Deni instead. Then maybe my plants will stand a chance.” My teasing brings a smile to his face. I count it as a win. He’s been more depressed about my situation than I have, but I’m determined to get back into the operating room if it’s the last thing I do. I’m too young for my career to end, especially like this, with no other career paths that don’t require a lot of backtracking and more hours of school than I’m prepared to endure.
Jackson pulls into the firehouse where Caius told him he’d be until tomorrow morning and parks in the right side of the lot with a sign that saysvisitors. The bay doors are open and four bright red trucks face the road, ready to go at a moment’s notice. A few firefighters converse in the opened bay area, and one of them breaks away to meet us as we approach. Jackson carries the brownies Mom made. They were always Cai’s favorite when we were kids.
“Hey there, what can I do for you?” the man asks as he extends his hand to shake Jackson’s.
“Jackson and Tallulah Whitmore. We’re here to see Caius,” Jackson says and points to me.
“Oh, right. Cai said you’d be stopping by. Come on in. I’m Captain Swanson, and pardon me for saying, ma’am, but you look a whole lot better today than you did a couple months ago.” He shoots me a kind smile. “How are you feeling?”
I don’t recognize his face, but there were a lot of people at the scene of my accident. I nod and rustle up a smile. “Thanks. I feel a lot better. Thank you for everything you did for me that night. It’ll be the last time I drive those roads in the rain, maybe at all.”
“We get a lot of calls for that area. City can’t seem to deter the deer, but I’m sure glad you’re all right.” He opens the main door to the firehouse and lets us in before shutting it behind him.
The main room is a sprawling, tiled, white-walled expanse withfoursofas, a large screen television, and a few tables and recliners sprawled about. Behind the main room is an open kitchen where someone is already cooking. He’s broad shouldered and muscular, and boy does he fill out his uniform well. I swallow and remind myself that swooning over firefighters is not on my to-do list today. I’m supposed to say hello to Cai, deliver brownies, smile a little, and get out of here before I get too antsy.
“Gray, your visitors have arrived,” Captain Swanson says.
Gray? Oh boy. Was I just ogling…
The man cooking turns around and I’m met with the warm brown eyes of Caius Gray. His grin stretches ear to ear, and unlike the night of the crash, I can fully take him in. He’s no gangly teenager anymore, not by a long shot. His muscular arms bulge when he dries his hands on a kitchen towel, forcing me to blink a few times. He’s also taken to properly combing his dirty blonde hair, a feat that seemed to evade him in our younger years.
And yes, I can definitively say I was, in fact,ogling the heckout of my brother’s former best friend. I’m still doing it, so I blink and shake my head just as he nods our way.
“Hey there. One sec. I made you something,” he says and holds up a finger before turning back around to plate up whatever he was cooking. Once it’s set up, he drops a skillet into the sink and stacks his arms with plates full of grilled cheese sandwiches.
