Fighting for the Trauma Doc's Heart
Auteur·e
Rachel Dove
Lectures
15,2K
Chapitres
12
CHAPTER ONE
MICHELLE FORBES WAS barely out of her car when she saw the ambulance pull into the bay at the front of the hospital’s main doors. St Marshall’s had another entrance for trauma, but that was around the other side. This couldn’t be good.
Slamming her car door, she threw her backpack over her shoulders and thrust her keys into her coat pocket, pulling out a bottle of hand sanitiser and running straight to the ambulance. Dousing her hands in the alcohol solution, she shoved the bottle back into her pocket and greeted the two men pulling the gurney out of the back of the ambulance doors.
‘What’ve we got?’ she demanded, reaching for a pair of gloves from one of the rig’s shelves before following them in.
‘Welcome back. Female, twenty-seven, found unconscious at the scene of an RTA.’
They rushed through the main doors, shouting at people to get out of the way as they ran the gauntlet of the main reception area, heading right to the trauma wing. A medic she knew—Bradley—did a double-take when he saw her, but then it was straight back to business.
‘We have two other ambulances incoming: an elderly couple, both awake and responsive at the scene, and one unconscious pregnant woman. Thirty-two weeks along. Her ETA is approximately ten minutes; they were cutting her out of the car when we left. This one—’ the paramedic pointed at the unconscious woman as they ran hell for leather towards the nearest bay ‘—is a cyclist. Her helmet was on but not fastened. It came off in the collision. Her breathing is stable. Possible fractured pelvis, right broken forearm. She hit her head on the tarmac as she landed. No consciousness since, but pupils are equal and reactive.’
‘Right.’ Michelle nodded, jabbing at the door button as they hit the bay.
She noticed her hands were shaking slightly, but when she clenched her fists tight and then unfurled them it stopped. Heads turned as she barrelled through, barking orders as she went. Michelle commanded any room she walked into, and she had long since forgotten to be sorry about that, even now.
‘Check for any other bleeding and call for a CT scan immediately. We need to check on that head. Get Ortho up here to assess these fractures, and I’ll come back to reset them myself once we have the scans. Page OB and Ortho—tell them we have incoming traumas.’
Bradley gave her a curt nod and got to work.
The whole trauma centre came to life as she spoke to the room. If Dr Forbes spoke, you damn well listened. Out of respect, mostly. She didn’t work on fear; she had seen its effects too many times to value it as any sort of teaching aid.
‘Clear the beds, people! Three traumas incoming. One thirty-two weeks pregnant and unconscious. Two elderly people, awake and responsive. Bed Two is stable, unconscious, and has multiple fractures. Check them in, people, and check them out!’
She headed for the on-call room, grabbing a pair of fresh scrubs from the pile kept in there. Within seconds she was dressed and ready to go. Talk about a gentle easing back into the day job. Sheesh.
She went to open the door, but froze when she heard her name being mentioned. She held her hands out in front of her, grateful to see that they were as steady as a rock now.
It must have been the adrenaline, she thought to herself. I’m back. I can do this. I want to be here. Here grounds me. Normality. Work. Friends. Just got to keep it together. Fake it till you make it, Doctor.
‘Shh—not the time!’
One of the nurses was trying to silence a porter Michelle recognised—Alan. He’d worked in trauma for years and was one of her favourite colleagues. Fast, quick, and he got the job done. Just the kind of person every head of trauma wanted to have working for her.
‘We have trauma incoming—just leave it!’
Michelle opened the door just a crack more, giving herself half a second to listen in. Alan seemed rattled, and that made her Spidey senses tingle. One thing she had learned from her tours as a medic: you listened to your gut. Helping charitable organisations overseas and working with the army had taught her that staying alive meant being true to your own instincts and having the courage to see your plan through.
‘It’s not fair, though,’ Alan hissed into the nurse’s ear. ‘She went to help her fellow countrymen and this is what she gets? We don’t need any more change around here; I don’t like it. I really don’t like lying to her, either.’
The nurse didn’t get the chance to reply as Michelle swept out through the door, shutting it firmly behind her, having stashed her backpack under one of the beds.
‘Michelle!’ Alan said smoothly, and any reservation that might have shown on his face was shrouded carefully by his friendly open smile. ‘Glad you’re back.’
She smiled, tapping him on the shoulder. She could hear the incoming ambulances and was already back to thinking about work. Whatever that was all about, it would come out in the wash soon enough. Even in a large hospital like this gossip never stayed secret for long. No need for her to get involved.
‘Glad to be back. I hope you haven’t wrecked the place!’ she called over her shoulder as she ran to the trauma centre doors.
Two ambulances came screeching to a halt, one after the other, and medics were already scrambling to help. Michelle burst through the doors and was at the door to the first ambulance when she was almost hit by one of the doors flying open, with a shouting man behind it.
‘Trauma, people! Female, Annie Weston, thirty-two weeks pregnant plus three, knocked unconscious at the scene of an RTA. Vitals stable. Foetal heartbeat strong, detected in the field and en route. No sign of labour, but we need to assess the injuries, stat.’
Michelle, furious at being sideswiped by both the door and the stranger, sprang up from her position and poked the guy right in the chest. Quite a firm chest, as chests went... Her short, neat little fingernail jabbed into his pectoral flesh, producing a wince from him. He looked down at what was causing the pain as Michelle’s team, already called by her, got to work on the pregnant patient and the two casualties in the other rig. His piercing green eyes locked on to her angry baby blues and they sized each other up.
‘You almost clipped me with the ambulance door, genius. I don’t know who you are, but please step aside.’ She gave him a pointed look, turning away to see to her patient.
Honestly. These mansplainers, she thought. They see a few episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and suddenly they’re all McDreamy.
Although, truth be told, he was quite easy on the eye. If you liked arrogant, haughty men with delusions of grandeur. Michelle for one, did not.
The team sped off after the patients, and she went to follow.
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ came an amused voice from behind her.
She turned, eyeing up the man once more.
‘Comobos...a year or so back?’
For a second Michelle just shook her head. Surely she’d remember having seen him before? Or would she? These days she wasn’t one hundred percent sure which way was up when she thought of that tour.
Then it came. The wave of nausea, the feeling of being tied to the earth with only a flimsy string, like a helium balloon. One little snip and she would be airborne, helpless.
Oh, God, not now. Please.
Michelle felt sick. Comobos. That had been the start of it all—of the way she was feeling now. All the emotions that were tied up in that place, that tour, came flooding back.
Looking down at her hands, she saw that she was clasping her hands together tightly, the white gloves she held making her skin look all the paler alongside them. She took out her hand gel and coated her gloves with it, relieved when her hands were still again. Tremors were certain death to surgical careers.
‘I was there. I don’t remember you, though.’
She didn’t elaborate, but waited for him to explain himself.
He smiled easily. ‘I had to go wheels down before the end of the tour—left in a bit of a rush.’
His jaw flexed, and she saw something akin to pain flashing across his features. It was only there a moment, and then he put his smug mask back on.
‘Rebecca’s your close friend there, right? The nurse?’
Rebecca. Michelle swayed a little on her feet as a memory of her friend’s face, twisted in panic and pain, slapped her. She practically growled at the man, hating him for ruining her first day back. She wanted to be normal; how could she do that with all this around her?
‘Yes, she—’ Was. A simple word, but Michelle couldn’t spit it out. ‘Rebecca’s a friend.’
Then it hit her. This was him. The him.
‘You’re the doctor, aren’t you? The one with the crème brûlée?’
The man smiled wolfishly.
Michelle didn’t respond.
Rebecca, on that tour, had had a ‘friends with benefits’ relationship with some flash doctor. They had worked together before, briefly, but she hadn’t really registered him at the time. Michelle and Rebecca had nicknamed him Mr Sweet Tooth after he had once managed to produce just the dessert that Rebecca had been craving since arriving in the Army camp, where such things had been almost impossible to get.
She could see Rebecca now, sitting on her cot, laughing with Michelle about her sexploits with him, and the delicious puddings he had provided. It was a nice memory, and one she was glad to remember. Even if he was the one to evoke it within her.
‘I see my reputation precedes me,’ he quipped. ‘That was a pretty nice dessert. How is dear Becks? Wheels up again?’
Michelle shook her head and he frowned, catching her sudden change in demeanour.
She’s dead.
‘Something like that. Forgive me—I have a trauma centre to run.’
She turned away before he could question her further. She did have work to do, and memories, good or bad, weren’t going to save any lives today.
‘Sure, I’ll see you around,’ he called after her.
‘Yep,’ she said in reply.
Doubt it, bucko. Relatives’ lounge for you, dude. No work for you today.
Passing Alan, who was pushing a patient in a wheelchair into the foyer of Trauma, she beckoned him closer.
‘Alan, we have a family member outside—a doctor. Can you show him to the lounge please? I don’t want him wandering around.’
She didn’t want him about when she was trying to work; she needed to focus. She put her hands by her sides, nipping at the skin of her thighs to ground herself. She felt better here. If she could see her hand on her scrubs, feel the slight pain her fingers produced, then she was fine. She was here. Safe. Alive and intact—for the most part. Once he was gone and forgotten about, she’d be just fine.
‘When you get a minute.’ She smiled at Alan, grateful to see him there.
Alan nodded, but then, looking back at the doors, he stopped, his face dropping.
‘Er...that man?’ he checked.
Michelle turned to see Dr Dessert heading over to the pregnant woman. Michelle nodded, groaning. ‘Let him check on his loved one—then he goes to the lounge.’
She passed a glance over at them. He was checking the monitors, asking the nurse with the patient questions. She’d let him get some peace of mind, then off he needed to go. She didn’t want him hanging around. The thought of him being there thrust the past into her present. She couldn’t deal with that today. She was back, and she needed to work.
Alan was looking at her gormlessly.
‘Problem, Alan?’ she asked.
Alan looked down at the man in the wheelchair, who shrugged back up at him. ‘Sorry, pal, I’m just along for the ride.’
Alan sighed, patting the man gently on the shoulder. ‘You and me both, brother.’
His meaty hand almost dwarfed the man’s whole shoulder, and his dark-tinted skin looked all the deeper against the whites and yellows of the hospital gowns and blankets.
‘Michelle, you need to speak to Andrew.’
Andrew Chambers was just asking his secretary to hold all calls so he could have lunch, his hands wrapped around his favourite steak and cheese sub, when the door nearly came off its hinges with a determined knock. He dropped the sandwich in shock, heading to the door, and groaned slightly when he saw who was making her presence felt.
‘Michelle, you scared me! What’s wrong?’
He picked up his sandwich again, taking a huge bite as his chief of trauma stood before him, her arms folded. His secretary, Rita, came running in on her little heels.
‘Sorry, Andrew. I asked her to wait till I could announce her.’
Andrew smiled through his mouthful, waving her away.
‘It’s fine, Rita,’ Michelle replied, increasing her glare level to singe, her eyes never leaving Andrew’s pale blue ones. ‘He’s the one who should be apologising.’
He swallowed, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. ‘Rita, you can take your lunch now; get the secretarial pool to field my calls till you get back.’
Rita nodded, taking her leave, and Michelle closed the door behind her, throwing her scrubs-clad body into one of the chairs. She grabbed the other half of Andrew’s sandwich.
‘Hey! My lunch! Michelle—come on!’
She took a huge bite, chewing and devouring it fast. ‘Not bad—bit more pickle would have been nice.’
‘I hate pickles.’
‘I know!’ she retorted, dropping the rest of the sandwich back onto his plate. ‘I hate a few things too—like coming back to find you’ve hired some other doctor to take my job!’
Thinking about this job had kept her going all these months since she’d returned to British soil, bringing Rebecca’s body with her. After Scott had left, when she hadn’t been able to get out of bed... The thought of losing it was making her react, and she couldn’t help it. She felt threatened—as if the ground beneath her feet was turning to sand, shifting...
There was a gentle tap on the door, but the pair of them ignored it. Andrew laughed softly—out of awkwardness, probably. Michelle didn’t see any humour.
‘I had to get some help in because you kept leaving! The trustees of the hospital have ring-fenced some additional funding for Trauma and they want a figurehead. We have all the state-of-the-art machines now, and staff morale is high, but we need more. We need leadership, Michelle. You can’t run a trauma centre from the back of a Chinook, as much as you think you can.’
The tap on the door came again, and Andrew stood up from his desk.
‘You should have discussed this with me,’ Michelle insisted. ‘I said I would be back, and I am. We both agreed to those deployments. It’s a good programme that helps me to sharpen my skills and bring back knowledge to be used here, where we have more facilities. It’s a win-win—your words! And I did it; now I’m back. I don’t need some alpha male peeing all over my territory.’
And it feels like he’s brought the ghost of Rebecca with him, too. I just can’t lose this job. Not yet. I just can’t lose anything else. I won’t be able to handle it.
‘I respect you as a boss, Andrew, but this was the wrong move. I thought we were friends, truth be told. And I’m angry.’
Andrew sighed heavily. ‘We are friends, Michelle; you’re my star employee and you know it. But I need stability. Would you honestly want anything less for this place?’
She wanted to argue, but he had her there. She did want the best for St Marshall’s, for her patients. She just wasn’t sure how she would feel if that ultimately meant she had to step aside for someone else. Especially that someone else.
Andrew went to open the door as the knocking came yet again, casting her a sheepish look on his way back.
‘Hello,’ he said to his visitor. ‘You might as well come in.’
Lo and behold, that man was there again, with the same smug grin on his face.
‘The traumas are all stable, head scans all clear. The pregnant woman—Annie—should be waking up shortly. Bang to the head but no permanent damage. Could have been a lot worse.’
Michelle couldn’t help but agree with that—at least in her head. She knew they’d all seen far worse happen in much less of an incident. He seemed to know his stuff—not that she’d lower her guard around him any.
‘You could have told me she wasn’t your loved one down there.’
‘Why did you assume that she was?’ he fired back easily, leaning against the wall, one foot crossed over the other.
God, he was arrogant. He was wearing an expensive suit, a crisp white shirt, and a tie with swirls of green that brought out the colour of his eyes. His macho, mocking eyes.
‘I came out of that ambulance as a doctor—you made the assumption. I was on my way into work when I saw the accident and stopped to help. Made sense to catch a lift with the ambulance. How long are you back for?’
‘For good now, actually. No more overseas plans in the pipeline... Andrew?’
Both doctors turned to Andrew, who was back behind his desk, quietly watching the pair of them as he ate the remainder of his lunch.
‘Well, Michelle, that’s kind of the problem...’ He sat back in his chair, motioning for them both to take a seat. ‘This is Jacob Peterson, and he’s one of the best trauma surgeons there is, and with you flitting off—’
‘“Flitting off”?’ She jumped on his words. ‘Hardly, Andrew—and you gave me permission to deploy with the team, remember? Good publicity and all that?’
Jacob sat down, opening his legs wide and slouching languidly.
She pointed down at him. ‘Please, do make yourself and your junk at home.’
Andrew choked on his sandwich a little, but Jacob Peterson just looked at her, a smile dancing across his amused face, making his muscular jaw twitch.
She turned back to Andrew. ‘Andrew, just what are you saying?’
Andrew sighed, savouring the last hunk of sandwich before swallowing and addressing the pair of them.
‘Like I said, this new funding will make us one of the top two trauma centres in the UK, and I am not about to lose any of it by not having effective leadership. The trustees are concerned and, frankly, I’ve decided to test a theory. Our new trauma centre will be publicly unveiled in less than three months. I need a crack team to be ready for the challenge, and a new Head of Trauma. You want the job?’
Jacob tutted loudly, and Michelle could feel her cheeks burn red with frustration. They both knew what was coming.
‘You want me to apply for a job I already have? I appreciate that cover was needed when I was away, but I’m back now, so surely this isn’t necessary?’
‘Hey,’ Jacob countered. ‘Technically, love, the job’s mine as much as it is yours.’
She wanted to go with the first response that popped into her head: Not likely, player. Move along, job-stealer. I need this more than you will ever know.
Scott had always said that she put the job before anything else. Before him.
Good job he didn’t stick around to see this, she thought to herself. She was actively hating a stranger now, for daring to exist in the world when so many didn’t any more.
‘No offence, Jacob, but I hold the position. I know the job and the staff. I’m here, ready to work. I’m sure you have other opportunities to pursue.’ Her lip twitched on the word ‘pursue’. She knew his usual methods of occupying his time.
Rebecca told me all about them.
He laughed—a soft little relaxed sound—and stuck his tongue out at her. Well, he licked his lips, but it felt as if it was aimed at her. She felt a flash of something, but brushed it away in revulsion.
Down, sweet tooth.
She looked at her boss, but he was oblivious.
‘So that’s it?’ she demanded of Andrew. ‘I go abroad for four months, to help people who really need it, and then I come back and have to fight for my job, against him?’ She hiked a thumb over her right shoulder at her rival. ‘He’s probably boffed half the nurses already.’
‘The nice-looking half, sure,’ Jacob quipped, and there was a challenging look evident in his expression.
Michelle didn’t smile, thinking of Rebecca again. Dear, sweet, funny Rebecca.
‘I’m not worried. I like it here, actually, so I say bring it on. What do you say, Mich?’
She stood up straight, drawing herself up to her full height. She tolerated ‘Mich’ from people she knew and trusted, but his use of it sent a wave of rage charging through her body. He mirrored her actions, straightening his tie. She was five ten—more when she was out of her trainers and in a pair of heels—but she still had to look up at her suave rival.
‘What do I say?’ she said to both men, her arms folded to keep her from flailing them about like a child in the throes of a tantrum. She’d never give them the satisfaction. She couldn’t be childish about this.
So she’d left, and the place hadn’t been able to run on its own. They’d needed Jacob. But now she needed her job—her normality—back. She needed him to leave so she could burrow back into her comfortable life. That was her plan, and she didn’t have a back-up. No matter what he had meant or hadn’t meant to Rebecca, she had to be the victor in this fight. She wasn’t sure she would be able to get up again if she got knocked down this time.
‘Bring it on. May the best doctor win.’
‘In six weeks I’ll make my decision about who gets to lead the new trauma centre as head of department,’ said Andrew. ‘Don’t let me down; I need you both at your best.’
‘Six weeks of working together...’ Jacob smiled, his pearly whites flashing as they caught the light. ‘How ever will you resist me, let alone win?’
Michelle looked him up and down pointedly, ignoring the frisson that his sculpted body produced in the pit of her stomach.
‘I’ll survive, I’m sure.’
She held out her hand, and he shook it, holding it between them. The warmth from his hand pervaded her bare skin.
‘We’ll see, shall we? This is going to be fun.’
‘You really said that?’ Nurse Gabby’s mouth formed a huge ‘O’ as she and Michelle waited in the queue at the canteen. It was quiet, being too early in the day for the lunchtime rush. ‘I swear, dermatology never gets action like trauma. What did they say?’
Michelle rolled her eyes at her friend, who was reaching over the small child in front of her to get a carton of apple juice. The little girl looked at the juice, and then tried to reach for one of her own.
‘They looked a bit like you do,’ Michelle quipped, mirroring Gabby’s shocked face back at her.
Gabby burst into laughter.
‘I don’t know...it is what it is. We’ll just have to see what happens.’
Turning back to the line, Michelle saw the little girl still struggling and passed her a carton of juice. The girl, dressed in white trousers and an orange flowered top, eyed her warily.
‘There you go,’ Michelle said, smiling at her and leaning down to meet her eyeline.
‘You got any germs?’ the little girl asked, her adorable little voice quiet and timid.
‘No,’ Michelle said, in an effort to comfort her. Pulling out her sanitising gel, she showed it to the girl. ‘I use a lot of this to keep my hands clean. You want some?’
The girl didn’t move, so Michelle demonstrated with her own hands, then popped the juice onto the girl’s tray. She could see a woman over the little girl’s shoulder, watching. Must be the mother. The child held her hand out and Michelle popped a tiny blob on her palm.
‘Now rub them together,’ she said, and the two of them rubbed in unison. ‘Better?’
The little girl sniffed her hands and smiled. ‘Yes, thank you!’
The woman came to the counter, to pay for the girl’s lunch. As Michelle neared the till the little girl waved at her, before turning away and chattering to her mother. Michelle waved back.
‘Cute kid,’ she said, looking at the two of them laughing over their meal. ‘Hope she’s not sick.’ It often went with the territory around here.
‘She’s adorable,’ Gabby agreed. ‘Not for me, though.’
Michelle nodded absently, looking back at the little family. One day that will be me, she had thought once, but that was long gone now.
‘Nah.’ She pulled her gaze back to her friend, handing over her badge to be scanned. ‘Me neither. Besides, I already work with a couple of man-children, so I’m all set!’
The two of them were still laughing as they finished eating, and when Michelle looked back, the girl and the woman had gone.
Once Michelle had left Andrew’s office and gone back to work, hiding her obvious discomfort and downright anger about the current situation, the two men were alone. The truth was, they both understood why she was angry. Jacob felt the same—though he was still in shock and hadn’t found his voice as quickly as she had.
He’d been rather blindsided by the feisty woman who appeared to have taken umbrage against him the second she’d set eyes on him. It wasn’t helped by the fact that he’d once bedded her friend, though he knew Rebecca wouldn’t have said anything to get her friend so riled; she’d always known the score. Wheels down, they wouldn’t be ringing each other.
What goes on on tour, stays on tour.
They’d been colleagues first and bedfellows second. It was company—pure and simple.
He thought Michelle didn’t seem the type to use dirty tricks, but when things got closer to the wire she might not stay as frostily civil. She didn’t seem the type to baulk at a bit of consenting sex between two people either, and they were all adults here. Though some were more adult than others—or it felt that way at times.
He was still feeling rather like a pimply teen who’d been left to look after a baby, but work was his sure thing nowadays. It always delivered, and it paid well. It kept him getting up every morning, even when he didn’t quite know where to start with his personal life. And, as hard as trauma was some days, he knew where he stood. It was always there for him—the precision, the speed, the certainty that had to come with saving lives.
On the wards and in the operating rooms Jacob Peterson was steadfast and solid as a rock. Back home, with the boxes and the blank expressions, the silent reproaches for not being there all the time, he felt lost. Overwhelmed. He could run a trauma centre, but when it came to his own affairs he needed time. Security. This job.
‘So, that went well,’ Andrew said.
Jacob looked at him in confusion. ‘Well?’ He raised a dark brow in his boss’s direction. ‘Define “well”.’
Andrew wiped his mouth on his napkin. ‘She loves her job, and it’s not been easy for her lately...’ Andrew looked across at Jacob as his words tailed off. ‘It’s not been an easy time for both of you, obviously, and I know coming back to work here is an adjustment compared to being out there. I just need the right person for the job. That’s what will bring in the money. Investors buy people, Jacob, not medicine. They like a face for their money. That’s all this is about.’
Jacob clenched his jaw, knowing he couldn’t dispute the truth. ‘It doesn’t make it any easier, though, that’s for sure. Are you ready for this?’
He tried to sound playful, slipping back into the cocky, confident persona he used to give him strength when he felt just the opposite. He was half out of the door, trying to quell his panic at the thought of losing his job, when Andrew replied.
‘I think I should be the one asking you that. Michelle’s not going to give in easily. I did think she might be off for longer, but...’
‘It’s fine,’ Jacob said, leaning against the door frame and looking every inch the cool, calm, and collected bachelor doctor he embodied.
He just needed to keep it together a bit longer, see this through, and then maybe—hopefully—things would work out. Both here and at home. Although he was keeping them separate for now—out of convenience rather than by design.
When he’d gone for this job all he’d been concerned about was landing the gig, buying the house, getting on with it and bracing for impact. Now he had to fight again, and the two worlds had to stay separate for a little bit longer than he had planned, until he was chosen to run the new trauma centre. Then he would be able to see through the fog of disgruntled but rather attractive rivals, broken promises, and terrors in the night.
‘Like I said when you hired me,’ he said, flashing a passing nurse a grin that made her collide with the wall. ‘I want to be here, so I’ll make it work.’
