Page 4 of What Hurts Us

“Right as rain,” she said with the fake confidence of someone wanting to seem in control. But her eyes told a different story. Her mousey voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Is Fletch gonna be okay?”

Rule number one of emergency medicine: don’t make promises. Ever.

“He’s a tough guy. Don’t worry.”

The fear seemed to dissolve from her face.

“You sure you’re good with that?” I asked, pointing to the duty belt.

She nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent.” I turned back to the stretcher. If AB wanted me to take the lead on this one, I was going to crush it. “Officer Fletcher, what’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“Three,” he grunted.Lies.

“Chief complaint?”

Cool gray eyes glared at me through lowered lids. “That I’m strapped to a stretcher.”

Oh great.Another mule-headed alpha male who wanted to pretend that getting hit by a four-ton chunk of metal at fifty miles an hour didn’t hurt. “Don’t make me play a guessing game.”

He huffed and closed his eyes. “Left leg. Hurts like a motherfucker.”

AB cut his uniform pants into shorts, just above his knee. Blood had already stained the dark blue fabric like a slick oil spill.

“Looks like a compound fracture in your tibia,” I said to no one and everyone as I worked with AB to stabilize his leg so it wouldn’t jostle during the flight. There was something horrifically fascinating about seeing a bone poke through the skin. “Were you on with dispatch when you got hit?”

He tipped his chin in a silentyes.

I grinned. “Be straight with me, Fletcher. How much did dispatch hear you swear?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but I caught the crack of a smile.

I snickered. “Seems like your memory’s okay. And look at that—you’re getting off work early!”

He cut his gaze to AB. “She’sreallynew. And too … chipper.”

“First day as aflightnurse, Fletcher,” I said as we packed up and wheeled him back to the bird. “Worked as a CNA through my undergrad, then two years at a local ED and five years doing travel nursing in ERs with a trauma specialty. Now I just get to do it a few thousand feet in the air.” I punctuated it with a saccharine smile. “Up you go.”

AB and I lifted and collapsed the stretcher into the back of the helicopter.

He grimaced and groaned at being jostled into the aircraft. “You got ibuprofen or some shit?”

I laughed. “You could take the entire bottle, and it wouldn’t do a damn thing for you.”

“Don’t you worry, Cal,” AB said as she slammed her flight helmet back onto her head. John closed the bay doors before jogging around to sit up front with Odin. “We’ll get you set up with something better.”

“Don’t like taking drugs,” he said, wincing as the rotors started spinning. The chopper lifted into the air. “Fucking motherfucking shit!” he shouted, swearing bright and loud as gravity pushed against his broken leg.

“One question,” I asked as I grabbed a vial and double-checked the label. The giant black-and-white helmet on my head made simple tasks exponentially harder. “Are you a Duke or Carolina fan?”

“Carolina,” he hissed through gritted teeth, balling his hands into fists to stave off the pain.

AB clicked her tongue. “Well, I’m sorry to make your day worse. We’re taking you to Duke. Their hospital has an open bed and an excellent orthopedic team ready to put you back together like Humpty-Friggin’-Dumpty.”

He groaned. Whether it was from pain or the losing end of a college sports rivalry, I wasn’t sure. Gingerly, he turned his head. “Just fuckin’ sedate me.”

We didn’t sedate him, but we pushed some happy drugs to lessen the discomfort until the team at Duke University Hospital could meet us at the helipad to take him into their care.

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