Bonded Love

by Renee Roman

  She was going to respond when a shadow crossed Blaze’s face, and she wondered what had caused it. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Grandma made them every Friday night when I’d go there after school.” Blaze glanced up. “Good memories. Thank you.”

  Although Trinity still didn’t know much about Blaze, she learned a little more every time they were together, and she liked everything so far. Even the stubbornness. “They’re one of my favorites, too. They’re from a little shop in downtown Queensbury. The baker makes a different flavor every day.”

  Blaze’s face relaxed. “Then you’ll have to have one with me.”

  She hesitated and glanced at the clock. “I’m not sure I have time.”

  “Please?”

  Trinity couldn’t refuse her. “I’ll be right back.” A couple of minutes later, she pushed open the door with her hip and set two cups of tea on Blaze’s bed table. “The best I could do.” She dropped packets of sugar next to the cups, then pulled the visitor chair over so they were facing. “No milk.” She grimaced. “That’s just wrong.”

  Blaze laughed a hearty, rich sound. “I agree.”

  As they nibbled, she asked about therapy, home care, and Blaze’s family. Safe topics. Nothing too personal, and nothing to indicate she wanted to ask if she was single or interested in dating. Trinity hadn’t dated in a long time and had no intentions of starting now, so there was no reason to ask that kind of thing anyway. She had to go before she said something she’d regret and stood. “I’m glad you’re going home. The food here isn’t great.” She fought off the urge to giggle. Her nerves were making her giddy.

  Blaze looked sad. “It’s the company I’ll miss the most.”

  Ignoring the warning bells screaming in her head, Trinity handed her phone to Blaze. “I’d like to check how therapy is going, if you don’t mind me calling.” The excuse was lame, and she refused to dwell on all the reasons she should have bitten her tongue. Hard. Escaping without a way to contact Blaze would have been the smart thing to do. The ethical thing to do. But she couldn’t.

  “I’d like that.”

  They said their good-byes and she left, wondering when she’d given herself permission to act on her feelings.

  * * *

  Trinity gripped the wheel and concentrated on the wet, dark road. Rain slashed across the windshield in sheets. Her twelve-hour shift had turned into fourteen. She was beyond tired. Emotionally drained and physically empty, all she wanted was a hot shower, food, and her bed. At least she didn’t have to return to the hospital until the late shift day after next. By then she’d reenergize and be ready to face another onslaught of casualties and run-of-the-mill emergencies.

  Tonight’s cases had involved a weather-related collision. There were four people involved and none had escaped injury. One of the patients was in a coma and likely to have lasting damage due to traumatic brain injury. Their life would be forever changed because of a moment’s poor judgment, which reminded her of the close call Blaze had.

  Her eyes burned, so heavy with fatigue she had to consciously force them to stay open. Three blocks. Focus. She leaned forward, reduced her speed, and went through her ED protocol as a way to stay alert. By the time she finished reciting it, she was sitting in her driveway with a mixture of sweat and humidity clinging to her skin. Maybe I’m coming down with something. She gathered her backpack and keys while studying the onslaught outside, then made a dash to the door. She needn’t have bothered as rain pooled in her shoes and whatever hadn’t soaked into her hair trailed down her neck and inside her meager jacket.

  Trinity unlocked the door and listened. Kelly was probably sound asleep by now. She hoped she’d missed getting drenched. The day had been challenging enough with news of Blaze’s discharge and not having a chance to see her again before the onslaught of emergency vehicles. Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and peeled away the wet layers, dropping them on the rubber mat. Gooseflesh rose along her arms and legs as she stood there in only her bra and undies. The ensuing shiver ran from her head to her toes. A hot shower was the only thing she could think of in her immediate future. Pausing outside Kelly’s door, she listened, then smiled. The gentle intermittent snore confirmed Marge made the right decision by letting her go while the getting was good. She moved quietly to the bathroom and cranked the water to hot.

  Steam began to fill the bathroom and she stepped into the shower, letting the hot needles pelt her back and shoulders. Flashes of the night’s blood, pain, and gore played on the inside of her eyelids. All she could do was let them run. She enjoyed having a few quiet moments with Blaze, and that had been the highlight of her day. With her discharge, she’d no longer have to make time to visit her. Not seeing DJ was a bonus.

  With the chill finally receding, Trinity picked up her sponge, squeezed out a liberal amount of lavender soap, and worked up a lather. She rinsed the suds from her body, her skin tingling from the vigorous scrubbing, and finished her routine by washing her hair, knowing it would take hours to dry on its own. The last of the ED odors vanished down the drain and she turned off the water. Once she was dry, Trinity shrugged into an oversized T-shirt that had been washed so many times it was nearly threadbare. For a moment, she considered food but was too tired to cook, afraid she’d fall asleep in the process and burn the building to the ground. She drank a glass of water, then brushed her teeth. With no energy left, she crawled between the soft sheets and pulled the comforter up, snuggling deeper. The air conditioner was set on low in order to keep the humidity in the apartment at a minimum, and she gulped down several breaths of the chilled air, attempting to ease the last of the tightness from her chest.

  Twenty minutes later, she was still awake. It wasn’t often sleep evaded her, and her mood changed from bone tired to aggravated. Maybe I should get up and work on my thesis. She was almost done. Once she finished her conclusions and did a final read through, she’d hand it in. Trinity had been working toward her master’s degree for a couple of years, taking classes when she could and doing a lot of online research. With her degree, she’d be able to apply for the position that would be opening soon. Marge was retiring as head trauma nurse and Trinity had coveted the job for the last year. Because they were friends, Marge had willingly agreed to wait until Trinity met the requirement of an advanced degree in nursing before giving her notice. Last week, she and Marge met for breakfast and had worked out the details. Marge was going to give the minimum requirement of four weeks’ notice at the end of the following week, giving Trinity four days to finish. It would take another week before she heard if she’d passed. The waiting game would stress her to the max, but she’d get through it.

  She flipped to her other side. Her eyes were leaden, but her mind was all over the place. She started counting the number of patients that had been under her care in the last week, which always worked better than sheep. That’s when Blaze’s face flashed before her.

  Blaze. There was a long list of reasons why Trinity didn’t want to think about her. No matter how hard she tried, Blaze’s voice or smile or eyes—God, those eyes—filled her vision. In a last-ditch attempt to remain distanced, she reviewed her case in clinical terms, hoping once she focused on the familiar, she’d be able to let go of her annoying attraction.

  Thirty-eight-year-old motorcycle accident victim. Five feet, ten inches. Blaze was one long drink of water. No, no, no. Focus. Compound fracture to the right radius. Multiple contusions along her thighs, arms, and back. A strong, broad back that rippled with taut muscles. Jesus. Stop that. Radiology studies revealed no other broken bones. Negative for concussion. Blood work unremarkable. Blood pressure upon arrival was 155 over 90. Nothing of note. Except for the muscular forearms and similarly strong thighs. Ugh. Unable to deny she hadn’t stopped thinking about Blaze since she arrived by ambulance, Trinity gave in to seeing her in a less than professional light.

  Her first impression had been what had sealed the deal. Though Blaze was clearly concerned about her injur
ies, she trusted the staff to take care of her and had been nothing but polite. And even in the face of devastating news regarding her arm, she’d remained calm—a testament to her character. The only time Trinity had seen fear was when Blaze was talking to the surgeon. After surgery, she’d proved her resilience by doing everything she could to move along her recovery. She chuckled in the dark. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Blaze had looked pretty scared before she removed the catheter. Despite all she was going through, Blaze treated everyone around her with respect, even when she was likely in a lot of pain.

  It wasn’t difficult to understand her attraction. But honestly, she didn’t have the energy to pursue Blaze, and ethically, she shouldn’t be considering dating a patient. Certainly not one she’d met under such dire circumstances. Besides, she already had too much on her plate. Maybe DJ and her overprotective tigress routine had done her a favor. Trinity hated being talked down to, and no matter what DJ’s feelings were, she had no right to be so rude. As sleep finally crept in, she pushed away thoughts of DJ and returned instead to beautiful slate gray eyes, like liquid smoke, and strong, hard shoulders.

  Chapter Nine

  “I can’t.” Blaze swiped at the sweat running from her hairline with her left hand. She’d been exercising her arm for thirty minutes and her muscles were shaking, pain coursing along her nerves. When the bandages first came off, she tried not to be shocked by the eight-inch scar on the inside of her forearm. It looked like something from a Frankenstein movie, though the stitches were smaller and the incision line narrow and clean. Once the stitches were gone, she could start applying an ointment to help reduce scarring and smooth the skin. She wasn’t vain. The scar wouldn’t faze her, but if she didn’t fully regain use, that would devastate her.

  The first week had been gentle manipulations while the bandages were still on. Trinity had texted, asking how her therapy was going. Blaze considered calling her, but she wasn’t sure when Trinity was at work, and settled for a few friendly exchanges. Even those limited communications made her smile and took the edge off what she was going through. The following week, therapy had become a bit more aggressive. Dr. Jonas had been impressed by how quickly her bones were knitting and he said she could manage wearing a forearm brace with Velcro straps. She’d been pleased by the freedom since it allowed her to shower more comfortably. Into her third week, Cassie wasn’t letting her off easy.

  “You’re doing great,” Cassie said. She replaced the tennis ball in her hand with a stress ball. Cassie had her working with a variety of items, some providing more resistance than others. “Let’s give this a try. Squeeze and hold for five.”

  Blaze laughed when she looked at the object in her hand. The Pillsbury Dough Boy stared back at her, his eyes bulging when she squeezed. “You expect me to be able to concentrate looking at this?” She squeezed and counted. It was hard to maintain her grip, but she managed.

  “Nice. Now give me five more.” Cassie sat next to her on a stool, marking her progress in the notes.

  “Five!”

  Cassie smiled. “You’re right. Give me seven.”

  Blaze should have known better. They’d been working together long enough for her to know whenever she complained Cassie pushed her harder, telling her she could do it if she wanted it bad enough. She did. With every fiber of her being, she would do whatever she had to in order to work again. In the meantime, she’d try her damnedest to not become annoyed by the delay.

  Ten minutes later, Blaze sat with a towel draped over her neck while Cassie worked her magic with a heat rub that was followed by an ice bath to keep the swelling down.

  “You’re awfully quiet today. Is your arm hurting that much?” Cassie continued to massage her arm and fingers. They’d become friends of sorts, talking about all kinds of things while Blaze went through her paces. Cassie had enjoyed the change of scenery so much she’d asked Blaze if they could continue their therapy sessions at her house.

  She shook her head. Cassie wasn’t going to let it go and fixed her with an intense stare until she caved. “Women.”

  Cassie didn’t miss a beat. “Ah, yes. We’re a fickle bunch.”

  She laughed. “True enough.” Blaze wanted to drop the subject altogether, unlike she’d been able to do herself. She slowly flexed her wrist as much as her tight tendons allowed, then stretched her fingers. “I can still only lift a coffee mug,” she said, impatient with the progress. She wanted to be back at work. Her father had completed the special-order cabinets she’d started since it was her only time-sensitive project. She’d called her other customers who’d ordered commissioned pieces, telling them it might be months before she could work again. They’d all expressed a willingness to wait, and it was a testament to their belief she’d be returning to her craft. Blaze prayed they were right.

  “I told you at the beginning healing would take time. If you weren’t so physically fit, you’d still be in a cast.”

  Cassie submerged her arm in the ice-filled water, taking her breath away. Even though she’d done it dozens of times, her body reacted to the shock the same. “I know…” She hesitated and looked out the window to the forest of trees beyond her yard. “I wish I could go back in time.”

  “Before the accident?” Cassie must have sensed she wasn’t really talking about her injury then.

  She sighed. “No. I don’t know. The last few months I’ve felt like something big is going to happen in my life, but I can’t pinpoint it. It’s confusing and…” She shook her head.

  Cassie took her other hand and held it. “Listen to me. I’m older and wiser.” They both laughed. “Trust that whatever’s ahead of you is meant to be.” She patted her hand. “And if it’s a woman that’s got you questioning things, don’t be so proud that you can’t make the first move.”

  “I don’t know if I want to.” Blaze had been thinking about going to the hospital to find Trinity, but what would she say? “I thought we hit it off when you brought the scones and I’d like to get together socially?” Talk about being a stalker. She sighed. Maybe she’d been wrong about Trinity’s interest. It wasn’t like there was any obligation on Trinity’s part to keep in contact, even though she’d been doing so. Blaze had other things to worry about right now.

  “So, what’s next?” She nodded to her arm. Cassie had taken away the ice, dried her off, and was pulling on a light compression sleeve before replacing the brace.

  “Tomorrow you have a follow-up X-ray and scan. We’ll have your usual therapy on Wednesday and should know the results by then. Based on what Dr. Jonas says, we’ll adjust your sessions accordingly for the next month.”

  Blaze had already asked Cassie a dozen times how long she thought therapy would last and when she’d be able to resume working. Cassie had remained vague. It wasn’t up to her. Blaze knew she couldn’t guarantee an end result. She stretched her fingers.

  “Don’t overdue the exercises. If you reinjure the tendons and muscles now, you might lose any progress you’ve made. Got it?” Cassie warned her as she packed up her goods. “I’ll see you Wednesday. Take care.”

  Blaze sighed. All she could do was wait.

  * * *

  By the next morning, she was going insane. Without the use of her arm, even small household chores were a pain in the ass, and she still couldn’t drive. Josh and DJ had been lifesavers, but being dependent was making her crazy.

  “I’ve got a few errands to run and I’ll pick up your groceries,” Josh said as they idled in front of the hospital entrance.

  “I can get them on my own.”

  “Stop being such a pain in the ass. You can cook me dinner tonight while I sous chef for you.”

  Blaze forced a smile. She’d never been good at letting people help her, and now it seemed like that’s all she did. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll call you when I’m done.” She got out and took the elevator down to radiology. The room was packed, and she dreaded having to wait, being short on patience these days. After checking in, she sat in the quietest c
orner she could find and scrolled through old text messages. There were days she didn’t bother looking at them, and she had to be more vigilant. It was hard to remember the world was still functioning at its normal pace, even if she wasn’t.

  Maybe she should think about a night out. As much as she was a familiar fixture at EroZone, she kept her private life private, and this was one time when she was glad she did. Blaze didn’t need anyone else doting on her, and she definitely didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. She didn’t even have a personal Facebook account, only one for her business, Hand and Chisel Woodworking. She advertised on Twitter, but she never answered personal messages when she received them. Blaze groaned when she saw there were eighty-seven text messages that she’d either read without deleting, needed to answer, or never opened. The only ones she consistently paid attention to were the occasional ones from Trinity. They were quick check-ins, but they always lightened her mood. She could use one now. Get your shit together, Carter. When her name was called, she shoved her cell back in her pocket, glad she could delay dealing with things she had no interest in.

  The technician verified her date of birth and name. Plain X-rays took a few minutes and then she was prepped for the MRI. Once the IV was placed she lay down on the narrow table and went into the tube. Music played in the headset, but Blaze wasn’t paying attention. Midway through, dye was injected, and the warmth spread through her.

  The table slid out of the MRI machine, and she waited the few tense minutes it took the tech to come inside.

  “Okay, Ms. Carter. The pictures are nice and clear, so I’ll remove the IV and you can be on your way.” She flushed saline through the line, then removed the needle and put a small compression wrap around her arm. “Two hours and you can remove the bandage.” She helped Blaze sit up.

  The room spun for a minute before righting itself, and she took a couple of deep breaths. She understood how people could become claustrophobic inside the narrow space.