Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Those guys weren’t my problem—their friend was. We wheeled the stretcher into a curtained off area and started assessing the damage as the man’s cries filled the air.
His blue T-shirt was torn and darkened with fresh blood. Grabbing a scissors, I cut it away, revealing a well-muscled chest that was bleeding in at least a dozen spots.
“I’ll page Dr. Baines,” Ava said as I surveyed the damage. He was scraped up and there were bits of what looked like gravel pressed into smooth, tan skin. But it was the deeper wounds that worried me.
“I think those are pellets,” I muttered as I wiped away blood and dirt.
“Better than bullets,” Ava said.
“No, it’s not,” the man said, wincing as I touched his damaged skin.
I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Usually patients in this state were in too much pain to make sense. “Mr. Turner, we’re going to take good care of you.”
“Leon,” he corrected, but then his eyes squeezed shut as he groaned.
“Hang in there, Leon,” Ava said.
The curtain flew open. “What have we got?” Dr. Baines appeared, and I was grateful that he was on duty tonight. He was a bit less arrogant than most of the doctors who worked here. Just a bit, but it was better than nothing. Plus, he was married so he didn’t try to hit on Avan and me constantly—not that that stopped some of the other married men around here.
Ava gave him the run-down as Leon’s eyes opened again. They were hazel with specks of gold. He raised his hand, pawing at the front of my scrubs. If a guy who wasn’t injured had done that, I would’ve smacked him. But I’d seen many patients do this, and I knew what he wanted. I clasped his hand in mine and squeezed. I brushed the dark, spiky hair back from his face with the other. “You’re going to be okay, Leon.”
He nodded, staring into my eyes as Dr. Baines worked over him and Ava put a port in his arm. I could see the moment the sedative hit him. He blinked once, then twice. “Just relax, and let us take care of you.”
Though his eyelids were drooping, he stared at me for a long moment. And in that moment, I saw something that filled me with warmth: trust. He trusted me, and by God, I wouldn’t let him down. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile as his eyes closed and he drifted off.
It was close to four a.m. when I finally got to take a break, but I didn’t spend it in the nurses lounge. Instead, I grabbed a cup of coffee and a granola bar, and located Leon’s room.
He was sleeping peacefully when I entered. Or at least from the neck up he looked peaceful. His dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and his hair stood up in spikes. I got the feeling that it was always spiky and that it hadn’t just happened when he’d been injured.
But from the neck down, well, things didn’t look so peaceful. A blanket covered his lower half, but his chest was bare and covered in gauze and bandages. Dr. Baines had plucked seven shotgun pellets out of him and stitched him up while I cleaned and treated all the scrapes and scratches. The skin on his torso was red and raw. Even worse was the one pellet Dr. Baines hadn’t been able to get out. But that happened. Depending on the location, sometimes it was safer not to try to remove it.
Leon breathed deeply and evenly as I nibbled on the granola bar, my eyes on the rise and fall of his chest. His companions had told us he was twenty-nine, but he looked younger. He had a bit of a boyish face. It didn’t make him look less masculine, but I imagined that he’d be the type of man who’d look like he was thirty well into his forties. Somehow, I doubted the same could be said about me, but hey, I still had four years before I’d be in my thirties.
Did I stay because he reminded me of Colby? Maybe. It would’ve been good if someone had been able to comfort my brother after he’d been shot, but he hadn’t even made it to the hospital. But if he had, I would’ve wanted someone to be with him until we could. Maybe Leon’s family felt the same way, or they would when they found out he was hurt?
There was a faint knock at the door, and my head swung toward it. It would be ironic if his family showed up right after that thought from me, but when the door opened, it was a huge, dark-haired man whom I’d seen downstairs in the ER before. He’d been one of the ones who brought Leon in.