by Lucy Ryder
Ty froze in the doorway, his eyes racing over Paige, his heart pounding so hard he was surprised to see his chest intact. He opened his mouth but when nothing emerged he closed it with a snap.
The sight of her clearly in one piece caused something like a brain explosion and it took a few moments before he found his voice. “What the hell are you doing?” he rasped furiously.
Paige jolted like she’d been shot and flashed a startled look over her shoulder. The sight of a bruise blooming along her cheekbone had his anger rising in tandem with relief. Stalking closer, he whipped her around.
“Dammit, Paige,” he growled, freezing when she winced and he got a good look at her face. Her eye was swollen, she had a vivid bruise along one side of her face, and a laceration that had yet to be attended to. Blood trickled from the wound and one side of her shirt was covered with blood.
“What the hell?” he rasped. “I thought…” He didn’t complete his sentence, mostly because his throat closed; instead, he yanked her into his arms and crushed her close, his relief at seeing her, a little battered but very much alive, so immense that for a moment his knees buckled.
He locked them and tightened his grip on her, needing the feel of her in his arms probably more than she did. She cried out and he immediately let her go. “Damn, I’m sorry,” he murmured, carefully stepping back so he could look her over. “Why haven’t you been seen and why are you attending to someone else?”
“A patient has gone missing,” she explained. “Everyone’s busy and I’m not a priority.”
“You damn well are,” he snapped out, and took her arm before turning to the wide-eyed woman on the bed. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
The woman blinked. “I, um…sure. My son is on his way and your…your wife was kind enough to sit with me while I wait for a scan. But I’m fine. You go ahead.”
“Ty—” Paige began, only to stop with a huff when he sent her a look that usually had ER personnel scattering.
He turned to the woman. “Excuse us while I attend to my…wife.”
He pulled Paige into the opposite room and led her to the bed. “On,” he said tersely, and when she made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat he sighed and growled, “Please.”
“Ty, I’m fine,” she began, gingerly getting onto the bed. “You didn’t need to come.”
“I came,” he gritted out, “because I thought—probably stupidly—that you might need me.” He didn’t say that the thought of her being seriously injured had scared the living spit out of him. He didn’t tell her that his mind had gone utterly blank and that at one point he’d thought he was having a coronary.
Getting madder, he slammed open drawers and cabinets, looking for what he’d need, before turning to find her sitting on the bed, watching him with serious eyes, her soft mouth pressed into a firm line. As though he’d done something reprehensible.
“You didn’t have to come,” she repeated dully. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he growled, wanting more than anything to wrap her close and never let go. Or maybe wrap his fingers around her neck for scaring him.
The latter impulse was less frightening than the former and allowed him to focus. With his jaw clenched, he gently cleaned Paige’s head wound, relieved to find it was just a little over an inch long and wouldn’t even need stitches.
“What happened?” he asked when he’d calmed down enough to talk without snarling.
“Mrs. Eberhart said her brakes failed.”
“I heard that part. What happened, Paige?”
She winced when he touched a particularly tender spot and huffed out a breathy growl like she was irritated. She didn’t know the meaning of irritated, he thought furiously.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We were just up the coast and Frankie and I were talking about—well, never mind that.” She flashed him an unreadable glance before continuing. “We were approaching a particularly steep bend and the next thing this red car came out of nowhere. It swerved into our lane and—Damn, that stings.” She sucked in a sharp breath when he applied antiseptic but after a couple of beats she continued, her voice tight. “Anyway, I didn’t swerve in time. She hit the driver’s side and we…um…we spun into a section of rock face.”
She was silent while he taped the wound closed. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. Frankie would have—”
“Shut up,” he interrupted quietly, and picked up the ophthalmoscope. “How bad is the headache?”
“I’m f—all right,” she said huffily when he shone the light into her eyes and pain lanced through her skull. “I have a headache. Big deal. It happens when you rap your head against something.” She pushed his hand away. “Just give me a damn aspirin and I’ll be good to go.” She made to slide off the bed but Ty put his hand on her chest to keep her there and she made an odd sound and froze.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demanded, his eyes sweeping over her for signs of trauma he hadn’t yet picked up. In the process he caught sight of her bruised wrist. “Dammit, why the hell didn’t you say something?”
“Ty.” She caught his hand and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “It’s just a bruise, I promise.”
He flexed his jaw. “What else, Paige? A bruised wrist doesn’t make you go white with pain.”
For long moments she just looked at him as though she expected him to give up. But Ty wasn’t anybody’s fool. During his ER rotation he’d treated everything from crush injuries to impalements and knew when someone wasn’t being straight with him.
Finally, Paige sighed and slowly lifted her T-shirt and it was Ty’s turn to suck in air. He carefully helped her lift her shirt the rest of the way and cursed when he saw the line of bruising across her chest and abdomen from the car’s seat belt. “Lie flat for me,” he murmured, and when Paige snorted, he chuckled. “This is purely professional, believe me.”
He gently probed her ribs, watching her face for a reaction she wouldn’t be able to hide from him, and then listened to her chest for internal trauma. Finally he grunted in satisfaction and pulled her shirt down. He helped her sit up.
“Let’s wrap that wrist, shall we?”
“Your hand—”
“Is just fine,” he interrupted briskly. “A lot better than yours.”
He found a crepe bandage and carefully strapped her wrist. He struggled a bit with the clips until she reached out with her good hand to help. Finally there was nothing more to do but Ty didn’t move away. Instead, he lifted her chin and with his gaze locked on hers he kissed her carefully on the mouth.
His lips clung to hers, needing the connection more than he’d thought possible. After a long moment of unresponsiveness she uttered a soft sound and her…lips…melted.
Thank God. He’d been beginning to think that she was deliberately distancing herself from him. He changed the angle of the kiss and—
The door slammed open. “Paige, we have a blue thirt—Oh… Oh, I’m sorry,” the nurse said when she took in the scene. She was about to back out of the room when Paige shoved Ty aside with her good hand and eased off the bed.
She looked a little dazed. “What about a b-blue thirteen?” she stuttered, her cheeks blooming with the color she’d been missing a short while ago. It took a moment for the RN’s words to register and although not all hospitals used a code blue thirteen, he knew it meant an infant in distress.
“Paige, I’m s-sorry. I wouldn’t ask you to do this…not after all you’ve b-been through.” The woman’s eyes filled. “Everyone else is busy and I don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, Beth,” Paige said, turning to snag a lab coat and stethoscope as she hurried from the room. “I’m fine, really. Lead the way.”
Concerned, Ty followed. “Paige, don’t tell me you’re going to treat a patient while you have a possible concussion.”
She looked over her shoulder as the nurse handed her a clipboard. “I have a hard head. I’ll get over it,” she said, a
nd Ty got an odd feeling she wasn’t talking about her head. She turned away to scan the hastily scribbled notes before pausing to flash him a look that was curiously closed and devoid of her usual spark. “I know how hard this was for you. But I just want to thank you. For everything.”
And the next instant she was gone, leaving Ty to stare at the corner around which she’d disappeared and wonder what the hell had just happened. It had seemed like she was saying goodbye. Like she would never see him again. Like… His chest squeezed.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded, and though he’d spoken out loud, he certainly didn’t expect anyone to reply from directly behind him.
“What happened where?”
He knew it was Frankie even before he turned but the sight of her had him taking a step back. “Jeez, woman, I should be asking you that.”
Frankie’s one cheekbone was bruised, there was a contusion along the side of her jaw and her arm was in a sling. He gently took her chin in his hand and studied her eyes. “You okay? Has anyone checked you out?”
Her gaze was curious. “Paige did because everyone else was busy. But what about you, T? You don’t look so good.”
Ty’s automatic response was that he was fine, but he wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Not by any shot, dammit. He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m just peachy.”
Frankie looked like she didn’t believe him. Not surprising, considering he felt like he’d been punched in the head.
“Really? Because you look like you just lost your best friend.”
He wasn’t ready to think about what was really bugging him, let alone talk about it. And certainly not with Frankie. “What I didn’t like was getting a call to say that there’d been an accident and that Paige—But you were there too and I’m glad to see you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, nothing a hot soak in the tub won’t fix.” She was silent for a couple of beats. “So who called?”
“Nate,” Ty admitted, and as he was looking right at Frankie, he couldn’t miss the abrupt change that came over her. Her back stiffened, her eyes instantly cooled and her mouth curled into a sneer.
“Can’t believe the big man actually took time off from his busy schedule to care about people he had no problem forgetting when he became a fancy Navy SEAL.”
Ty, suitably distracted from his own disturbing thoughts, sighed. “Frankie,” he said, slinging an arm across her shoulders and hugging her to his side. He pressed his lips to her temple. “When are you going to get over whatever has you riled up over Nate?”
“When hell freezes over,” was her instant reply, but before she shrugged off his arm she laid her head against his shoulder in an affectionate gesture. “And you can tell him that too.” She stalked off a few paces before turning. “But I have a piece of advice for you too, T,” she said walking backwards. “This place is a madhouse and Paige is hurting more than she’s letting on. Go help her.”
He wordlessly held up his cast and Frankie sneered for the second time in as many minutes.
“Since when did something like a broken hand ever stop you?” she demanded. “The Tyler Reese I knew climbed down a cliff face with a fractured ankle to rescue me when I was fifteen. Man up, T, and see what’s right in front of your nose.” And with that piece of baffling advice she spun away and disappeared around the next corner.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PAIGE PAUSED AND scanned the notes in front of her. “Just give me the Cliff Notes version, Beth, and ignore the bruises. That’s all they are, bruises.”
“All right,” the RN said on a sigh, gently bumping shoulders with Paige in unspoken support. “The patient was brought in fifteen minutes ago with tachycardia, tachypnea and a low-grade fever. EMTs had difficulty keeping him conscious and ventilated. We immediately drew bloods and bagged him but we’re still waiting for the results.”
“Any signs of injury?” Paige asked, hoping they weren’t dealing with an abused baby because if that happened it might spark the flood of emotion she was bottling up behind a thin veneer of professionalism. If that dam broke she’d probably cry about everything that had happened over the past twenty years.
“Nothing except a recent spider bite that he was treated for, and, believe me,” the RN admitted in a low voice, “we looked.”
“Okay, I’ll examine him but you might want to get a trolley with a paeds CL insertion and electrodes. Oh, and see if there’s an ECHO available,” she called out when Beth hurried off, pausing to check the next sheet before pushing open the door to ER 4.
Bryce and Courtney Cavendish hovered close to the bed, looking terrified as a nursing assistant worked on keeping the toddler ventilated. Dressed in just a disposable diaper, little Joshua looked tiny and fragile on the large ER bed.
Despite having being bagged, Paige could see that his breathing was fast and erratic, and instead of looking flushed, as one would expect in a child running a fever, his skin was pale, almost translucent.
“Good evening,” she said, entering the room with a calm professional smile. “I’m Dr. Carlyle.”
They turned as one and their reaction instantly reminded Paige of her bruised face. “Just ignore the bruises,” she said on a little laugh. “I had a little mishap this afternoon. So,” she continued briskly, “when did you first notice Joshua’s symptoms?”
Paige listened intently as she gently examined the toddler and was probing his head and shoulders for trauma when he suddenly jerked and opened his eyes, giving her the opportunity to watch his pupil reaction.
She knew the instant he realized that she was someone strange because fear and confusion flashed across his little face. It crumpled and he opened his mouth to cry just as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Courtney rushed to the bed looking like she wanted to gather her son into her arms but her husband wrapped his arms around her and drew her away with a murmured, “Let them do their job, honey.”
“Oh, God.” Courtney turned and wept quietly into her husband’s throat and Paige tried not to feel envious of their obvious love for each other and their child. What must it be like to have that kind of unspoken, unwavering support?
“He’s all right,” Courtney continued to sob. “Our baby’s going to be all right.” She turned wet, hopeful eyes on Paige. “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
Paige winced inwardly. How did you tell a child’s distraught mother that you had no idea what was wrong with him and that he might need some invasive procedures to get those answers? Procedures that could be both painful and dangerous.
“I promise that we’ll get to the bottom of Joshua’s problem,” she said gently, knowing she couldn’t in all good conscience tell the terrified woman what she wanted to hear. “Before I ask you and your husband to go with Nurse Bremner, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of c-course,” the young father said, looking white and shaky as though he understood what Paige wasn’t saying. Her heart squeezed and she instinctively knew they weren’t dealing with abuse. These parents obviously loved and cared for their son. The trick now was to fix little Joshua as soon as possible so his parents could take him home where he belonged.
Intent on the Cavendishes, Paige was only vaguely aware of a large presence coming up behind her and it was several moments before she realized it was Ty. Studiously ignoring the prickles of awareness marching up and down her spine, she concentrated instead on her questions.
Besides, she had no idea what he was still doing there and couldn’t afford to care. Not with the crisis they were facing, and not with her heart. She needed to concentrate and wished he would go away. Far, far away. Now instead of next week. Now before she got in any deeper.
He waited until the young couple left with the nurse to take over the bagging.
“I thought you’d left,” Paige said briskly, sending him a brief glance as she checked the toddler’s pupil reaction again.
“I’ll wait around until you’re ready to
leave.”
“It might be late,” she warned absently, frowning as something caught her eye. “In fact, you should go. This is going to take a while. I’ll get a taxi.”
“I’m not leaving,” he growled irritably.
But he was. He was leaving next week and he hadn’t told her. In fact, he hadn’t said much of anything, let alone the important stuff. Blocking out her thoughts was difficult with a headache but she leaned closer to Joshua and gently pressed her fingers to the boy’s neck. “Mmm.” She whipped her stethoscope from around her neck and fitted them to her ears as she pressed the disk over Joshua’s chest. “Did anyone else notice that?”
“Notice what?” the NA asked, leaning closer. “What did you see, Dr. Carlyle?”
“Where’s the blood work?” Paige asked as she gently palpated the boy’s chest, ignoring the pain shooting up her arm from her injured wrist because she could hear a dull sound and that was never a good thing. “We need those results.” She turned to the NA. “Put a rush on them, Stacey. If it’s what I think it is, this little boy’s in trouble.”
“What—?”
“Results. Please. Here,” she said, thrusting the stethoscope at Ty. “If you won’t leave then tell me what you hear.” After a brief pause, Ty took the scope and moved beside her, silent as he slid the disk over the tiny chest. Paige held her breath.
“Dammit, Ty,” she burst out after a long pause. “Tell me you hear it too.”
Despite her earlier wish that he’d leave so she could start getting over him, she was abruptly glad he hadn’t. All other qualified personnel were occupied and if she was right about her patient, they couldn’t afford to wait.
“Heart rate is dropping,” she murmured, “but so are blood saturation levels.” Paige eyed the monitor with concern. Saturation levels were a lot lower than they’d been ten minutes earlier despite the PPV. And Joshua, who’d again come around, had begun to hiccup and his crying was weak.
“Hmm,” Ty murmured. “Lung auscultation reveals coarse crackles while the heart appears…muffled.” He removed the stethoscope and looped it around Paige’s neck. “I think you’re right. What’s your take?”
