And I was frozen, unable to do a goddamn thing.
The blare of a horn from a passing car snapped me back to the present, and a ragged breath whooshed from my lungs. I turned to the right, unlocked my door, and walked inside. The door echoed as I slammed it shut behind me and leaned back against it. I closed my eyes, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in my chest, balling my hands into fists to stop them from shaking too badly.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
After several moments, I managed to push it down, and I moved away from the door. I took a few steps, lacing my fingers behind my head as I glanced around the living area. Everything I would need to do for outprocessing took over my thoughts. Phone calls. Returning equipment. Packing. Moving back home.
It felt like my life was suddenly in shambles. I hated feeling like I didn’t have control over what came next because I didn’t know what was coming. A headache started to creep in as I slumped onto the sofa with a sigh. I tried to let the quiet settle me. Instead, the silence only made the jumble of thoughts louder. It always did, lately.
Leaning back against the cushions, I pulled my phone frommy pocket and brought up my contact list. I scrolled through to find who I was looking for before hitting their name and putting the call on speaker.
“Hey, big guy,” Gabe answered.
“Hey,” I said, my voice more gruff than I intended.
“How are ya?”
“I’m alright,” I lied. “How’s things there?”
“Good. Same old, same old with me. Mom and Dad are good. Morgan is still in Miami. Luke and Callie are in the thick of wedding planning and house building. Wes is…well, Wes.”
“Good. That’s good…”
There was a pause on his end. “You sound tired. Everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, everything is fine,” I lied again. “I, um…I actually have some news.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I, uh…” It was harder to say than I thought it would be. It felt like admitting defeat, admitting that there was something wrong, that Iwasn’tokay. I closed my eyes and let out a breath, forcing myself to say it out loud. “They’re discharging me. So, I’m coming home…for good.”
Chapter 2
“Bed seven isready for discharge. I put in an order for Zofran for bed three. And bed one is going to be admitted.”
My gaze stayed locked on my computer screen as I nodded to Dr. Toma while finishing up charting on a different patient. “Got it.”
I pushed back from my chair, grabbed the Zofran for bed three, and discharged bed seven. I managed to start the admission for bed one before we got slammed with back-to-back ambulance arrivals—a guy who nicked his thigh with a chainsaw, a couple of chest pains, an MVA, just to name a few. I didn’t get back to the admission for nearly an hour and, by then, the waiting room was full.
I loved every second of my job. Sure, it had its moments and came with really hard days, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Don’t ask me why, but I thrived on the chaos that came from working in such a high-stress environment. I loved never knowing what I was going to walk into or what would comethrough those doors. I’d seen some shit, some things most wouldn’t believe unless they’d seen it themselves—like things stuck in places they had no business being in—but I learned so much in the nearly four years I’d been working at Bayport General Emergency Room as an RN. I couldn’t imagine working anywhere else.
It’s why when I was told they’d be willing to open a nurse practitioner position for me once I graduated in May, I didn’t even hesitate to say yes. I’d get to stay with the nurses and doctors I’d grown to adore and respect, and remain in the department I loved. It was a no-brainer.
By the time I got my current patients caught up with everything they needed and finally got the admission taken care of and sent up to the floor, it was a little after two o’clock. I walked into the breakroom, my stomach grumbling—I hadn’t eaten since six that morning.
“There you are! Hey, did you see that chainsaw gash? That was gnarly.”
I chuckled as I washed my hands. “Yeah, I helped Toma with the stitches.”
“Ugh, jealous.”
Marie Graham was another nurse and my best friend. We started working in the ER at the same time and went through orientation together. We shared all the firsts and all the ups and downs. Like me, she thrived on the chaos, but I supposed you had to when working in our department. She was someone who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind and didn’t take shit from anyone. I swore some of the doctors were intimidated by her; I’d seen her knock a few of them down a peg or two when they got a little too high and mighty, but they didn’t hold it against her. Instead, they respected the hell out of her for it.
I looked at the container of food in front of her before grabbing my lunch from the fridge. “What are you eating?”
“I got a tapsilog bowl from the food truck down the street.” She grinned. “What do you have?”
“A spicy Italian sub from Gusto.” I plopped down in the chair next to her, unwrapping my sub and picking up the few spicy peppers that had fallen out, tossing them into my mouth.
