Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(18)
I shook my head, though after all this time, it had become somewhat automatic. “My goal has always been singular.”
“It means a huge pay cut too. Keep that in mind.”
He studied me. “I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you. Well, think about it. No final decisions need to be made, but for now, for today and tomorrow, I think you should take some time to regroup.”
I could see his point but being dismissed because of my own emotional weakness was not something I could stomach either. “Sam, I’m fine, really. I’ll go check in on things up in ICU and then I’ll be back on the floor. I just need maybe an hour—”
His hand slapped down on the desk. “Damn it, Erin. No.”
I cringed back in my chair slightly, caught off guard by his angry retort. I had heard him yell plenty of times over the years, but I loathed myself every time it was directed toward me. “I can do this. I’m not going to let my team down because of it. We’re already short staffed tonight.”
His reprimanding glare was slightly intimidating, like when your father expressed his disappointment. “I thought you of all people realize that when you go in there without your head in the game that’s when critical mistakes are made. Just because it’s you, don’t think you’re immune. I’m not going to let you risk it, even if you’re too damn stubborn to realize that for yourself. We’ll manage. You go home.”
Stubborn? As if I’d never heard that one before. Usually there were other adjectives to go along with that one but now was probably not the best time to be defiant, especially since I’d schooled other residents on the importance of focus.
I knew if I went home, I’d wallow in my thoughts. “I didn’t drive.”
“Can someone pick you up?”
“No, I need to keep busy. I’ll just…” I didn’t know what I’d just do.
“Go see your family. Go rest in the on-call room. Just no patients tonight.”
As if I’d be able to rest. After I’d been dismissed with my marching orders, I pressed the button for the elevator, knowing he’d follow through with his threat to have me physically removed from the ER if he saw me in there anywhere tonight. I chose being smart over being foolish—for now.
I checked my pager, wondering if Doctor Sechler was available for consult.
No sooner did I make it through the security doors of the ICU, I spotted my mom sitting stoically by my Uncle Cal’s side, her cheeks pale and worn with emotional exhaustion, rubbing his non-responsive hand.
THESE BASTARDS ARE going to nail me to the cross today. I just f*cking know it.
Marcus had warned me earlier at the gun range that the guys were going to be relentless tonight, but what was I supposed to do? Not show up for work?
Screw that. I had shit to do.
I headed down the florescent-lit hallway and its dingy walls to our main briefing room, flicked on the lights, not surprised that I was the first one in. And tonight, I was an extra hour early, but not by choice. I grabbed a copy of the hot sheet and got comfortable in my ratty-ass tan desk chair, knowing I had some time to kill. It creaked in protest as I leaned back, like a crotchety old man too weathered by years of hard living to move.
Something sharp dug into my elbow and I wondered for a moment if the chair had grown teeth, hungry to take a bite out of me too. The armrest was all but gone, held together with my repeated attempts to repair it with duct tape. Despite its sad condition, good, bad, or otherwise we were partners, and right then and there I made the decision to wheel him home after shift, see if I could replace the faithful arms propping me up.
I straightened the page and perused the list, hoping I’d find something that would distract me from thinking about not just one but two major traffic accidents that happened on our watch and the blood and gore that coated both of them.
I rubbed my neck. Restful sleep had eluded me again. The nightmare had me sitting straight up in bed this time, gasping. The gunshot, the vacant look on my partner’s face after the bullet penetrated his skull, all followed by the silver charm bracelet dangling on the charred remains of another ghastly memory. I rubbed my eyes.
The only thing keeping me from falling into another downward spiral was visualizing that gorgeous doctor we pulled over this morning. Every time the anger, frustration, and haunting images started to swell I’d force my thoughts back to her, finding the memory of her bright enough to break through the darkness.
Her long, dirty-blonde hair had just enough wave in it to make me fantasize what it might feel like threaded through my fingers. Those killer blue eyes and soft cheeks naturally blushed with the cold hit me every time I blinked. Recalling how she fought through an extremely shitty situation to rally in the end with her extraordinary heroics tangled up with images of her sexy mouth and plump lips.
I felt tight in my skin and my chest ached, as if this random female had managed to turn me inside out somehow. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds before returning to visions of her. My imagination was having a field day with its vivid depictions.
I rubbed a thumb over my breastbone. Funny, thinking of her had gotten me through that burning urge to dull the pain in other ways. Huh. I wonder if it would be harmful to my health to be addicted to a hot doctor instead.
Hot sheet. Concentrate on the hot sheet.
I tried to look at the paper in my hand but the print distorted; its allure paled in comparison. I finally managed to note the makes and models of a few high-end vehicles reported stolen this morning, which immediately took over my attention. I sat forward in my chair, circling several on the list with my pen.