Page 3 of What Hurts Us

AB shook her head. “Fuckin’ Creekers…”

One firefighter, decked out in full bunker gear, killed the power to the hydraulic cutters. Two sets of gloved hands yanked the cruiser door, finally freeing the driver.

“Cal was on his way back into town after getting another call about Muriel. A cow from the McMann farm found a break in the fence and wandered out onto the road. The kid in the pickup truck swerved to miss the cow but ended up clipping the darn thing, crossing the center line, and hitting Fletch head-on.”

AB blew out a breath. “Shit.”

There was something to be said about the gravity of working on someone you knew, even if they were barely an acquaintance. In a hospital setting, you could switch patient assignments with another nurse. But out here? There was no pool of nurses to swap with. Emotion had to be put on the back burner. Relationships had to take a backseat. I touched AB’s arm. “You good?”

“Yeah. Let’s roll.”

Shane jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re taking the kid to the hospital in the Band-Aid Box. You got Fletcher?”

“We got it,” I said, stepping up and trying on my new flight nurse shoes for size. It felt good. All the nerves washed away in the chaos. I found purpose in the stress, and in that purpose was calm.

Our thick-soled boots crunched through shattered glass as we jogged across the scene to the police car. Frodo had the stretcher ready to receive the police officer.

The front of the car—even with the cattle guard—was crunched up where the engine should have been. The kid had to have been distracted, speeding, or both before seeing the cow to cause that much damage.

“Nice day, ain’t it, Fletch?” AB said with a snap of her gum as she positioned herself at the officer’s knees. John stood just behind the seat and wedged his arms around the man’s back. The firefighters had either cut the seat belt, or Officer Fletcher had removed it himself when he tried to free himself from the car.

It was shocking that he was still conscious, and I said a silent prayer of thanks for small miracles.

Seat belts were one of those daily miracles we all took for granted.

“On three,” AB said before skipping one and two and going straight to it.

John, apparently used to her peculiar method of counting, wasn’t fazed. They cautiously lifted Officer Fletcher out of the car and onto the stretcher.

“Rookie—get his duty belt off,” AB clipped as she pushed his shirtsleeve up and salivated over the largest veins I’d ever seen.

They were glorious.

Snapping out of my vascular daydream, I returned to the task at hand.

His belt. Right.

I grabbed my trauma shears and found a spot on the strap that was open enough to cut through the tough nylon. Just as I was sliding the blades through the other side of his belt, Officer Fletcher opened his eyes.

2

LAYLA

“Pretty sure you’re supposed’ta buy a guy dinner before you start rippin’ his clothes off,” Officer Fletcher said with a pained groan as he tried to lift his head off the cushion.

“Ha. Original,” I said with a snort as the shears broke through the last of his belt. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that joke, I’d have enough money to pay off my nursing school loans. Thirty pounds of equipment fell from his narrow hips. “Sorry, Officer. You’re not my type.”

“You must’ve smacked your head hard if you’re hitting on the new girl and cracking jokes, Cal.” AB snickered as she placed an IV into one of those sinuous veins.

Officer Fletcher lifted a dark eyebrow. “New girl?”

“Rookie, meet Callum Fletcher. Most of us call him Cal or Fletch,” Frodo said.

I pulled his duty belt free and spotted a police officer who looked like she was waiting for someone to give her a task. I whistled, and she hustled over. “Make sure this gets back to your station,” I said, carefully handing over Officer Fletcher’s gun before slapping the two halves of the belt in her other hand. “What’s your name?”

“Officer Lauren Mitchell,” she squeaked. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a tight bun.

“Nice to meet you, Lauren. I’m putting it down in his chart that those items are your responsibility. We good?”

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