Page 28 of One Moment Please
I inspect her ankle, glancing at her every time she winces. “I don’t think it’s broken, just a sprain. Rest it as much as you can for a few days and ice it three to four times a day. I’ll have the nurse show you how to wrap it for support before you leave.”
She winces when I rest my hand on her foot.
I add, “I’ll order you some ibuprofen for the swelling and a light narcotic for the pain. It’ll help if you end up needing stitches in your finger.”
She nods feebly, and I have a strange desire to comfort her, which is not something I do with my patients. In fact, I have a bit of a reputation around here for being ice cold to my patients and the staff, something that took the nurses a while to get used to. But you don’t live the life I’ve lived and treat the patients I’ve treated without learning how to build a fucking fortress of protection.
“As soon as your blood work comes back, I’ll get your pain meds ordered.” I move to examine her finger and look at her face to add, “Yeah, this’ll definitely need stitches.”
She can barely make eye contact with me, so I decide to press her.
“So how have you been?”
She huffs out a laugh. “I’ve been better.”
“Other than tonight’s unfortunate incident?” I rewrap her finger and a pang of annoyance hits me. “You were out on a date?”
She shrugs.
“And your date left you like this?”
She levels me with a glare. “It wasn’t a good date.”
“I’d say,” I grumble with a huff.
“Lose the judgmental tone, okay?” She pulls her hand free from mine and clutches it to her chest again. “I’ve had a rough enough night, and I don’t need you piling on more.”
“Pardon me.” I push back from her bedside. “I guess I don’t know what kind of tone to take with a woman who fucked me and left like a thief in the night.”
Her jaw drops. “It was morning when I left…okay?”
I shake my head. “The sun hadn’t even risen.”
“I didn’t think you’d care!”
“I don’t.”That’s a lie. Clearly, I do care. Otherwise, I wouldn’t still be thinking about her three months later. But I shouldn’t be.
“You’re acting like someone who cares,” she replies almost sheepishly. “I want my clothes back, by the way. I love that top.”
I bark out an unamused laugh. “That’s rich.”
“What did you even do with them? You’re not some kind of creep, are you?”
I blink back at her, stunned, pissed, and surprisingly, a little fucking hurt. “If a creep washes and dries your clothes—then sure, Lynsey, I’m a creep.”
She scowls. “When would you have had time to wash my clothes?”
I lean in and hit her with a glower. “I put your clothes in the washer when I went out for my four a.m. run. Then I put them in the dryer before I hopped in the shower to get ready for work—all facts you could have known, if you wouldn’t have been a coward.”
She pauses, watching me nervously for a moment as though she doesn’t believe the words I’m saying. The moment is thwarted when the nurse opens the slider into the room. “Her blood work is back, Dr. Richardson.”
She passes the paper to me and rushes out of the room.
I do a quick read through. “Everything looks normal. I’ll get your pain…”
My voice trails off as my eyes zero in on a blood test that’s a standard test we do on many of our patients who come into the ER. The results are…surprising. No. They’re damn right maddening.
My entire body tenses as my blood pressure spikes. The visceral reaction I’m having to these results are more surprising than the results themselves.
