Page 62 of Luck Be Mine
The spark was back, her expression shining with excitement. “I can see the house in my head. I’ll draw it. When shall we start searching?”
“Now.” He laid a quick kiss on her eyes, her nose, her mouth. “Your turn, honey. Come to bed.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Ten
June 2021 - Eighteen Months Since Injury
◊ Combat Trauma Medicine Redefined ◊
The hospital dayroom offered a rare pocket of quiet in a busy shift. The cream and green walls created a forest vibe which encouraged deep, steady breaths. The coffee was strong, the snacks plentiful, and the company hit-or-miss.
Cait sipped her coffee, scrolling through the latest house links from Niles. The man was tenacious and thorough. Every day, new listings. Even on weeknight hours, an ER lull never lasted, but Bets hadn’t buzzed her yet, so she kept searching. Plenty of houses for sale. All she needed was one.
She stopped on a promising photo. Wrong size.
She hated having to pick without Hunt. His ‘what do I know about picking a home’ excuses irked in spades. By his logic, the last two years living in their apartment didn’t count. She told him so. But he’d countered with ‘you built us this one, so you know more about what we want than I do.’ Then his phone would go off, leaving Niles as her only sounding board.
Too expensive, too small, too big, or gone before they could make an offer – the whole market conspired against their goal.
“One house,” she muttered. “That’s all I want.” She bookmarked another possible and was about to call Niles when Bets popped her head in.
The harried expression made Cait pause.
“Your turn,” Bets clipped out. “Police ambush.”
“A cop?” Cait set her mug in the rack.
Bets kept the door open with her foot. “Nope, the suspect. Both officers have injuries, but they are non-life-threatening.”
Cait tucked her phone away. “Let’s go.”
She donned gown and gloves and moved to the emergency intake doors. Leaning on her Army combat surgery experience steadied her confidence. She was back and building.
Bets stopped next to her. “Trauma 2. Tell me what you decide about surgery so I can add the details.” She dashed off.
Hannah Malone joined her. “Love these. Get to deal with the handcuffs and the cops. For some reason, it’s always worse than they show on television.”
“Can’t interrupt the flow of the drama.”
“We don’t do drama here.”
The nurse’s sarcasm had Cait snorting. “Oh, but we do.”
Hannah shrugged and opened the automatic doors. The cream walls had scratches and scuff marks from maneuvering gurneys.
Sirens cut off, and the ambulance stopped at the door. Several police vehicles pulled in behind. Two orderlies joined them, both craning their necks to see.
Cait dropped back to get out of the way. There was a small delay unloading. Two cops joined both paramedics in moving the gurney to the door.
Then, she saw the patient.
Christ!
The man was bald, tattooed, and huge! She couldn’t tell his height, but he was easily two-hundred-fifty pounds of muscle, tied down, and still fighting.
Hannah sighed. “Great. Can we knock him out?”
