Before she could voice any more pertinent questions about how serious her condition was, he’d dragged back the privacy curtain and swept out of her eyeline. A far more pleasing visual greeted her in the form of Cassie’s smiling face.
“Hey,” Cassie said as she came to Taryn’s bedside. “How are you doing?”
Now that Cassie was closer, Taryn could see her bloodshot and slightly puffy eyes. Had she been crying or had it simply been a long and tiring shift? “I’m all good.” She grinned and tried not to show the resulting pain in her expression. The twinge of concern in Cassie’s eyes told her she’d failed.
“What happened?” Cassie touched Taryn’s hand, but the contact was all too brief, and she pulled away quickly.
Taryn exhaled and shrugged, an action she regretted immediately. Maybe she needed more drugs. “One of our riders in the top globe just…misjudged their circuit, I guess. The globes were slowly coming apart, and I saw a tire go over the edge. At those speeds, and with so many others around me…” She shook her head. “There was nothing I could do.” As she’d continued to speak, with difficulty, she thought she saw sorrow in Cassie’s eyes and hazarded a guess as to where it was coming from. But maybe she was wrong. It was egotistical to think that Cassie had dissolved into tears because of Taryn’s crash. She saw hundreds of emergencies every month; there was probably very little that truly fazed her. Still, Taryn wanted to draw Cassie into her arms and comfort her, hating that she was in some sort of emotional discomfort. “How are you doing?”
Taryn saw Cassie apply the mask as clearly as if she’d watched her physically hold one to her face.
“I’m absolutely fine,” Cassie said. “You don’t need to concern yourself with me; concentrate on recovering and getting back out there.”
The instant detachment and professional touch were like knives through Taryn’s heart, hurting far more than anything she’d just experienced. But what did she want Cassie to do? Fling herself down on the bed and wail so loudly her sorrow would fly up to heaven? She played along anyway, deciding that Cassie had to project a certain way in her own ER. There were still nurses buzzing around, checking lines and fluids. “The other doc said I’d probably be out of the hospital in less than a week. When do you think I might be able to get on my bike again?”
Cassie blinked and glanced away, her chin trembling slightly. “You’ll need at least two weeks before you think about anything physical.”
Taryn was tempted to ask aboutotherphysical stuff, but Cassie’s seriousness kept the thought in her head. “I don’t feel too bad considering… How bad was it?”
Cassie smiled but not for long. “That’ll be the morphine talking, I’m afraid. Did Dr. Fischer not discuss the extent of your injuries with you?” When Taryn shook her head, Cassie briefly raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t treat you, so I’m not sure exactly what you’ve been through. I’m sure you have specific questions, so I’ll ask Dr. Fischer to come back.”
Again with the professional over the personal. Taryn struggled to reason with it, but she said nothing. It was her own issue, her need to know that Cassie cared for her. Which she knew was stupid. She could’ve saved herself a whole heap of pain and just asked Cassie how she felt about her, about them, before the accident. “How’s everyone else?” she asked instead.
Cassie’s face brightened. “Everyone else is stable. There are some broken bones: a wrist, a femur, and an elbow—two of which are on the same person. Considering the number of people involved, the speed, and the confined space in which the crash occurred, I think you’ve all been lucky.” She shook her head. “Gwen and Fig are sweet.”
Taryn wrinkled her nose. “That’s one way of describing them. Did Gwen go crazy on you?”
Cassie smiled, and she seemed to relax a little. “That’s one way of describing it,” she said and winked.
“I’m sorry. She’s all about two things: her work and Fig.”
Cassie tilted her head. “She made that clear, yes. But she was also super worried about you.”
Taryn grinned. “We’ve known each other a long time, and it’s been a few years since our last…”
The last nurse in the room nodded to Cassie and left, finally leaving them alone.
Cassie perched on the edge of Taryn’s bed. “Your last crash?”
Taryn swallowed, and it hurt far more than it should. Cassie reached for the cup of water on the small table and offered it to her. She sipped on the straw, enjoying the relief the cool liquid provided. “Since our last loss. Her name was Trig, and she died in a crash on Route 66.”
“Oh.” Cassie looked surprised. “Not during a stunt gone wrong then?”
Taryn shrugged. “Kind of. We think she was practicing to beat the record for the fastest headstand on a motorbike.” Taryn didn’t miss Cassie’s subtle eye roll and clear disapproval, but she was respectful enough not to ask the same questions that had plagued her and Andi and the rest of the team.
“It’s nice that you have this family,” Cassie said.
The source of that sadness was unmistakable. “Speaking of which, have you heard from your mom lately?”
Rachel stepped into the bay and tapped Cassie on the shoulder. “GSW coming in.”
Cassie nodded and stood. “Saved by the bullet rather than the bell.” She squeezed Taryn’s hand gently. “Get some rest. I’ll swing by at the end of my shift; you should’ve been moved to the thoracic ward by then. And I’m sure Dr. Fischer will come and answer your other questions when he’s free again.”
Taryn caught Cassie’s wrist as she turned to leave. “Then we can talk?”
“Sure.”
She was gone without another word, and Taryn felt the loneliness deep in her soul. Yes, she had family. But she also wanted Cassie. Nothing like a brush with death to invoke a clichéd re-evaluation of priorities.
