“Drunk driver,” Julia explained, offering Kim the glass. Her face fell into something that was all too familiar in our line of work. Disgust. Resentment. Sadness. “The driver is still alive. Unharmed. The police are with him now. The driver’s passenger, his eleven-year-old daughter, was DoS.”
Hearing these words provoked a wave of nausea in my throat, but I took a breath and shoved it back down. I had to keep it together. This was my job, and I had people to help.
“Kim, we’ll look at those lacerations on your face and get you patched up, okay? Then I’ll get word on Daniel. They’re working on him now. He’s—he’s in the best hands possible.”
She nodded, and tears spilled from her eyes. “I know he shouldn’t have been sitting up front,” she said, shaking her head. “It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store, and Danny asked if he could ride in the big boy seat.” She put her face in her hands, continuing to sob. I rested one hand on her back, unsure of what to say. People make mistakes all the time. This one might have been preventable. But I wasn’t about to tell her that. The drunk driver in the other vehicle was at fault, plain and simple.
“I knew better, okay?” Kim continued, frail shoulders shaking with devastation. “I knew better and did it, anyway.”
“We can’t change the past,” I said, stepping back as another ER nurse wheeled her into a room for stitches. “We can only face the present and do better for the future.”
***
“Hey, Doc, I gotta run. Class starts in thirty minutes.” I swung my head around the corner and gave thumbs up to Doc Shaffer. He spun in his chair to grin at me, holding his palm up for a high five.
“Kill it, Ren,” he said, and I slapped his hand. As I went to leave, I stopped, turning back around.
“That accident from this morning,” I said. “The boy, Daniel. Is he still stable?” I held my breath, waiting for news I’d dreaded all day.
“For now,” Doc said, and a pulse of relief traveled through me. “He’s lucky he’s not dead, to be honest. But the surgery went well, so there’s a good chance he’ll make a full recovery.”
“Good. I’m glad.” A thousand-pound relief eased from my chest as I waved goodbye over my shoulder, strolling out of the ER doors to hop into my car and head towards campus. I was still dressed in scrubs, but at least these weren’t blood-stained like the ones I had on earlier. Since I didn’t have enough time to head home and change, I went straight to campus and parked, grabbing my backpack from the back seat for my first-day class: the ever-dreaded microbiology.
I took a focusing breath and walked towards the closed door of the lecture hall, backpack held firmly to my body, hair falling around my face in a shield of sorts. The hallway is brightly lit and bare. Was everyone already in class? I hoped to freaking God I wasn’t late on the first day of my senior year of college—my firstactualyear on campus.
At this point, I was just glad to finally have the chance to attend Eagle River University in Denver after two years of proving myself at the local community college and taking far too many online classes. I never attended on-campus school, and the reason was simple: it was a direct result of the shitstorm I called high school. There weren’t any distractions at the community college like in high school—no assholes making my life a living hell. And here at Eagle River, I’ll have the same opportunity to excel and get my bachelor’s degree in nursing—a lifelong dream of mine.
Scanning the hallway, I spotted a second-hand couch in the corner, occupied by a blond guy with glasses chewing on the end of his pen. His nose was wrinkled as he focused on the notebook on his lap. I passed him by, not looking at him, but I could feel the guy’s eyes on my ass as I pulled the lecture hall door open and stepped in, letting it fall heavily behind me.
The lecture hall was significant—an auditorium, really. Dimly lit, it was shaped like an indoor theater. Half of the seats were filled with students, chatting happily, adjusting their books, bags, and laptops, and a few glanced over at me as I came in. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, eyes searching for an empty seat. The podium in front was empty, and I glanced at my watch. Five minutes ‘til. The professor isn’t here yet. Good—I was not late.
I averted my eyes from the staring students and tiptoed up the stairs, glancing over occasionally to see if there were any open seats. There were one or two here and there, but many students had their bags, books, and laptops in the empty seats. I considered asking them to move their items, but the confidence eluded me.
Near the top, I finally found a couple of empty seats. There was one guy up there, and he didn’t even bother to lift his chin to look at me as I scooted in and sat down, legs and arms pressed securely to my side. I cleared my throat self-consciously and removed a pen and pad from my bag for notes. In the middle of labeling my paper, a few more students piled into the auditorium, heading up past the filled seats to find some empty ones closer to the top.
“Are you saving this seat for someone?”
I looked up, startled, catching the gaze of a handsome, blond-haired guy with glasses. It was the man I saw outside, on the couch—the ass-staring guy.
“Um, no,” I mumbled, heat rising to my cheeks. “You could sit there.”
The guy didn’t have to ask twice. He swung his bag off his back and plopped down next to me, vibrating the entire aisle. Then he twisted his body in my direction and held out his hand.
“I’m Jason.”
“Um, Renee,” I said, taking his hand in mine. He had a gentle handshake. His skin was warm, calloused a bit, but not too much.
“So, what are you in for, Renee?” asked Jason, making himself comfortable in the folding seat. He smelled good. I notice it almost instantly, like expensive cologne and new book pages.
“I’m here for school,” I muttered.
Jason laughed, and heat rose to my cheeks. “I mean, what’s your major?”
“Oh.” Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, and I chuckled nervously. “Nursing. I want to be a trauma nurse. You?”
“Business management.”
“Then why are you taking microbi—?”
