Page 16 of A Place Like You

But can I really do something like that?

Chapter Eight

Wren

Regina calls me to invite me over to spend the evening with her at Mountain Range Bar and Grill. Even though Milo isn’t at home, this time I decline. I choose to stay at home, soaking in my bathtub, while listening to music and reading the thriller I downloaded on my e-reader. Surprisingly, she respects my decision to unwind in the solitude of my home.

However, my peaceful moment is abruptly shattered by an urgent call from the dispatcher. There’s been an accident on the highway, and since my clinic happens to be the nearest with a functioning triage, the ambulances will be driving the victims to me.

I take pride in having one of the best emergency rooms in the area, not that we use it much. It’s an addition that happened when Finnegan and Derek decided to set up the headquarters of Crait Quantum Shield in Heartwood Lake. They paid for the renovations and the new wing, which includes hospital rooms and an operating room. It’s so they can use them when their company has an emergency.

There are times when they bring their injured agents or civilians to me. It’s my job to tend to them. If we need a specialist, they usually fly them here.

We’re equipped for everything, including road emergencies.

Normally, I enjoy walking to work, savoring the gentle rhythm of my steps. But today, the urgency of the situation demands otherwise. I hastily jump into my car and speed away, the sirens blaring louder as I draw nearer the clinic. The ambulance lights piercing the twilight darkness.

Upon my arrival, the scene is chaos, tempered by grim determination. First responders crisscross the area, their faces serious and focused, executing a choreography born out of countless emergencies. The air hangs heavy with the sharp scent of fear, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and the sterile aroma of antiseptic.

Each face reflects my own—ashen, tight, eyes wide with anxiety. It doesn’t take long to remind myself who I was and what I could do in the emergency room. This is my domain, my duty, and I cannot afford to waver, but I also don’t think I can do this alone. There are too many patients and only one doctor.

Swallowing my pride, I pull out my phone and make the call I never thought I would be making. After the first ring, his voice responds. “Drake Thor . . .” His voice trails off, and he clears his throat. “Drake Kershaw.”

“Drake, it’s Wren. Wren Lynch,” I say, amazed at the steadiness in my voice. “We need you at the clinic. There was a terrible accident on the highway.”

“On my way,” he responds without missing a beat.

As the call ends, I take a moment to absorb my surroundings. The frenzied activity buzzes around me, punctuated by gasps for breath, the hum of medical devices, and the rhythmic beeping of heart monitors. Underneath it all, my own heartbeat thumps steadily, a resonating drumbeat of unwavering resolve.

Every person I attend to, every wound I treat, becomes my world in that moment. I’m grateful that the EMTs haven’t just dropped off the victims and departed. They stay to assist with the basics while I make critical decisions—stabilize the patient so we can airlift them to the city or provide the necessary care to discharge them soon.

Finding a sense of rhythm in my work takes me only a short time. This is what once thrilled me about my previous life—the exhilaration of saving lives on the brink of death, the rapid pace of the emergency room, and the need to make split-second choices. With each stitch, each bandage, and fast decision, I feel more at home.

“Do you have any spare scrubs?” Drake’s voice pulls me out of my concentration.

I sigh with relief, knowing that we’ll be able to get this done faster, but hoping more doctors arrive soon. This place is full and has a shortage of medical personnel.

“Yeah.” I gesture to where he can find everything he needs to start tending to the patients and add, “A couple of helicopters should be arriving soon to airlift those two patients. They’re already stabilized. If you can begin on that side, we might finish up sooner. Victoria has prepared some beds for the patients who need to stay. The ones ready to be discharged will be in the examining rooms until a family member arrives to pick them up.”

Just as the words leave my lips, the piercing sound of rotor blades slices through the chaotic scene, filling me with a wave of relief that washes over me like a powerful remedy. Doctors flown in from Denver arrive and join us in attending to the victims.

“Why don’t you designate roles?” Drake suggests with a calm and steady voice. “I’ll assist the EMTs in transporting the patients who require immediate transfer to the nearest hospitals.”

“Thank you,” I say, not knowing how to express the immense value of his willingness to step up and help, even when I ran him off from my clinic earlier today.

The night stretches on, filled with the whispers of prayers and the steady beat of our fighting hearts. We move as one, Drake and I, bound by this shared experience that’s as harrowing as it is intimate. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like I was part of a team, but I remind myself that this is just for the night—tomorrow, I’ll probably have to make a few decisions. Though, I have to keep my distance from him.

Chapter Nine

Drake

It’s around seven in the morning when the atmosphere of the small clinic finally begins to calm. The traces of urgency fade away, giving way to the peaceful morning ahead of us. I text Cal, asking for two large lattes and a couple of pastries.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain, just swiftly delivers the order, a wordless exchange completed and soon forgotten as he disappears into the growing daylight.

It doesn’t take me long to find Wren. She has been diligently attending to each room, checking patient vitals, and updating their charts. As she emerges from the room, I offer her one of the cups of coffee.

“Here, you should go home and rest,” I suggest, noticing the weariness on her face.

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