Forbidden Doctor - R. S. Elliot Page 0,51

her entire being like a damn magnet, and after I’d yelled at her for springing her own feelings on me, I’d felt like I was suffocating. I never wanted to make her unhappy.

I checked my phone every spare minute, waiting for a text that I knew would probably never come. She had no reason to let me know she got home safe, but it didn’t stop me from panicking. The moment my shift was over, I stripped off the gloves and apron I was wearing and stepped into the ambulance bay to get a breath of fresh air.

The lights bounced off the walls, and I wondered if I should gown up to help with the incoming trauma. The ER team had excused me and thanked me for all my help. They’d be fine alone. Still, I stayed where I was, the morbid curiosity that accompanied my profession making me wonder what the incident was. Probably just an elderly person that had fallen.

The doors burst open, and I met the trauma team as they came out the door. There were several of them, and I knew instantly that things were more serious than just a fall.

“Twenty-four-old-female,” the EMTs explained. “Struck while crossing the road by a car. Conscious at the time of impact but lost consciousness minutes after. Unresponsive to verbal stimuli. BP 80/57. Heart rate 120. Suspected multiple fractures to the left side, punctured lung, potential tension pneumothorax. Bruising mainly on the left side of the body; at risk for internal bleeding.”

“Shit,” an intern I knew as Dr. Green hissed, “that’s Stevie.”

Everything in me froze. My breath cut short, and my brain whited out.

No.

No.

No.

It couldn’t be Stevie. Stevie was at home. She called a taxi and was safe. At. Home.

Working on autopilot, I took one step forward, then another, and followed the gurney as it disappeared into the ER.

I was off the clock; I was supposed to go home. I should go home. Instead of that, I should have woken up. I should have pulled myself out of whatever fucked up nightmare I’d landed in.

“What the fuck,” Dr. Hale whispered.

He had seen her too, and that made two doctors. I couldn’t—I had to—no. I couldn’t see her like that but—I had to make sure it was her. Mistakes happened every day; maybe it was just someone who looked similar.

I followed the team into resus, and they didn’t ask questions. I stood at the end of her bed.

Curly, honey brown hair scattered across the head of the gurney like dashed dreams. Slender arms with hidden strength, coated in a golden tan that she had even when it was raining out. Constellation freckles across a nose and both cheeks. Small lips. A cupid’s bow.

I had only examined every inch of her while she slept once before. The night we met. She could have been asleep that time too, with her hazel eyes closed so peacefully, but there was blood and rubble dashed through that hair and there was a scrape across those small lips. Her arms weren’t up near her head to provide comfort, and she lay on her back with a c-spine brace holding her still. She was bruised all down one slender arm, and the uncomfortable angle near the wrist suggested it was broken or dislocated. Her leg looked crushed and I could see bone.

Oh God, I could see bone.

I hadn’t felt faint since my internship, but suddenly, the sight of her insides being outside of her body made me want to vomit. People I had known for years were walking in the doors; Dr. Ibey was using the portable x-ray and Dr. Green was watching her be intubated. Dr. Hale stood by nervously, and I remembered the rumor that he’d gone on a date with Stevie.

Stevie.

Stevie was on a gurney. In resus. She was broken and mangled and she had lied to me because I had broken her heart. She told me she would get a taxi, so why was she lying on a gurney in resus?

I had to leave. I found the nearest bathroom and only just made it. All the food I had eaten in recent history emptied itself into the toilet bowl, and I still hovered over it, shaking and shivering.

My phone was ringing, vibrating. I pulled it out and it was Melissa. My girlfriend. I was supposed to love her. She was expecting me. I needed to speak to her.

“Melissa,” I answered.

I could hear the way my own voice faltered, and the sharp intake of