“Date?”
“Are you asking me out?” Those clear blue eyes blink, widen, and hit me with another electric shock of… what the hellisthat?
“No, Ms. Calder.” I catch the condescension in my voice and school my face into something Talia would approve of. “I’m asking about today’s date.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Lucy’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, and she grimaces. “Friday. March fifth. Or sixth?”
I move closer, penlight in hand. “Follow the light.”
She doesn’t.
Her focus stays locked on my face.
“Ms. Calder?”
“Hmm?”
“The pen.”
“Oh.” The blush deepens. “Right.”
I track her response as she finally follows the movement, slow and a little delayed. Then I checksensation and mobility in the injured foot. She flinches and inhales sharply through clenched teeth and I wheel my stool back to maintain a professional distance, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Getting a CT to rule out a brain bleed. X-ray for the ankle.”
Lucy pushes up on her elbows, eyes narrowing. “Do you—” She coughs, clears her throat. “Do you really think all that’s necessary?”
Ah, yes. Gotta love when the patient’s internet search makes her more knowledgeable than my expensive education and years of experience.
“No, Ms. Calder. I actually don’t think they’re necessary at all. I just like ordering thousands of dollars of tests for fun.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“You arenotfine.” I run a hand through my hair and hit her with my most serious look. “You actually need treatment, which puts you in the minority around here tonight.”
Lucy shifts, uncomfortable. That tough little front’s still up, but it’s cracking.
“I can’t afford any of this,” she says quietly. “I told the ambulance guy the same thing. I don’t have insurance.”
Of course she doesn’t.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale at the ceiling. The system fails people like her. And today, I hate being part of it more than usual.
When I look back down, she’s watching me.
Her eyes are wide now. Clearer. The sass hasslipped. What’s underneath is raw and real—fear, maybe shame. Or both.
Damn it.
“I get it,” I say, voice softer than I mean it to be. “Medical bills are hell and everything’s too expensive. But you hit your head and blacked out. You’re disoriented. That’s not something you walk off. And your ankle?” I nod toward it. “That thing’s so big it’s ready to apply for its own zip code.”
A tiny groan escapes her as she drops her head into her hands.
“I’ll get someone from billing to talk to you. They’ll walk you through options. You’re not the first person who’s come in without a golden ticket.”
Lucy nods, slow and reluctant.
My hand hovers for a second before I place it on her shoulder. Just a light touch. Professional. Reassuring. Nothing else.
