hallway. A lot of feet. Sheâd pulled the end of the boyâs sheet loose and was trying to add that to the pile of washcloths, but the bleeding wasnât stopping. Oh, God. Why wasnât the bleeding stopping?
Two hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back. âOut of the way, Delaney.â She tripped backward but caught her balance as Millie took her place at the bedside. Nurses started hammering out words like blood and platelets and stat and OR and Delaney suddenly felt woozy as she watched a crowd of freakishly happy scrubs efficiently surround the little boy.
The scene dissolved into one from her past, and she reached for the wall so she didnât tip over.
She couldnât see what the nurses were doing, and the pace was an absolute frenzy. As she stood in the corner of the room, terrified, Joshua came striding in. She watched as he calmly took charge of the situation, and ten minutes later, the boy was off to the operating room, a pressure bandage of some sort on his thigh. His mother followed, twisting her hands as she practically ran down the hallway behind them.
Once the room cleared, Delaney let out her first audible breath, leaning on the empty bed so she didnât collapse. Then she noticed the blood. It was all over her hands, her arms, her skirt, her shoes. She swallowed hard.
âYou okay?â Joshuaâs voice startled her from the doorway.
She raised her eyes, knowing she must look like sheâd just come out a loser in the zombie apocalypse. Words failed her, though. She just held up her hands, looking at them like they belonged to someone else.
âIâthink I need to clean up.â
He raised his eyebrows, walking quickly toward her. âI think you need to sit down.â
âNo, Iâm fine. Iâmâfine. Iâm sure Iâm fine.â
âDelaney, you are deathly white right now. Sit.â
He pushed her gently into a chair, then put a warm hand on the back of her neck, urging her head forward.
âHead between your knees.â
âIâm not going to keel over.â
She was totally going to keel over.
âYeah, you are. Please just do what I say. Iâm a doctor, remember?â
âOkay, okay.â Delaney could feel the smile in his words. She let his hand push her head downward, but was surprised when it didnât leave her neck once she was safely in a donât-keel position. Instead, his fingers kneaded slowly, soothingly.
âTake a couple of deep, slow breaths.â
His voice was low, soft, calm, like one heâd use with a patient on the edge, and suddenly she felt ridiculous. Here he was in charge of an entire patient floor with thirty patients and ten nurses, and instead of taking care of any of them, he was stuck dealing with an interloper from finance who couldnât handle the sight of blood.
She pushed upward, and he slid his hand away from her neck.
âEasy does it. Take it slow.â
âIâm so sorry. You have way more important people to be taking care of right now.â
He laughed softly. âIs that what you think?â
âHow can I not?â She pointed at the space where the bed had been, then out at the hallway. âYour nurses are scary efficient, by the way.â
âYep. They are.â He nodded. âBest in the business. Just not enough of them.â
Her eyes skittered around the room, trying not to land again on the empty spot where the little boyâs bed had been.
âDelaney.â His voice commanded her to look at him, and she couldnâtâ not.
She took a shaky breath. âIs he going to be okay?â
âTheyâre taking good care of him.â
She swallowed, wincing. Sheâd heard those words before, in another lifetime.
Her voice was quiet when she spoke. âIs that what youâre trained to say? You know, so you donât have to answer yes or no?â
âItâs the truth.â
âBut is
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