Page 48 of Bleed with Me

Free fluid. Too much of it. She had internal bleeding.

“Prepare the OR,” I said sharply. “Get an anesthesiologist, and I need a head CT. Move.”

A nurse repeated the orders and ran out of the room, while another wheeled us toward imaging.

Aryna’s cries echoed down the corridor as we moved, the sound threading straight through my ribs. I walked beside her gurney, one hand gripping the rail, the other resting where she could feel it.

“Almost done, angel,” I murmured soothingly. “It’s just a big camera that takes pictures. No pain. I’ll stay right here.”

The scan finished in minutes but felt like hours. There was no fracture, no bleed, just a mild concussion. Relief washed over me. One less thing trying to kill her.

“Let’s move her to the OR.” The nurses pushed the bed toward the elevator as my mind overflowed with everything that could go wrong.

I jogged beside the gurney, already scrubbing in my head. She was not dying on my watch. Not tonight.

“You did amazing,” I whispered when we reached the OR, and Aryna’s fingers twitched weakly. Her screams softened to broken hiccups, exhaustion finally winning over terror. “Now it’s my turn to do my job. I’ll make it right, okay?”

Her eyes filled with hope.

“Promise?” she breathed.

Never promise what you can’t guarantee, Doctor, the bastard scoffed in my head. First year rule.

But…

“I promise, angel.”

Nurses took her inside to prepare while I scrubbed in and met my team.

“She’s going under,” I announced while the nurse put my gloves on. “Exploratory laparotomy. Control the bleed, repair the damage, then deal with the arm.”

A chorus of confirmation echoed in the room, and we started working immediately.

Seven hours later, Aryna slept beneath a thin blanket, impossibly small against the hospital bed. Tubes and lines trailed from her body while the monitors traced a steady rhythm. The bleeding was controlled, the damage repaired, and the glass removed. For now, all she had to do was rest and heal.

I remained beside her longer than necessary, watching every green number as if it were a personal victory. Heart rate steady. Oxygen good. Blood pressure holding.

Her lashes rested against bruised cheeks, her breathing soft but audible. I adjusted the blanket when it slipped, my movements slower now that no emergency demanded speed. My hands, so used to cutting and stitching, hovered uselessly at her side.

“Stay with me, angel,” I muttered, more to myself than to her. The machines answered for her, steady and reassuring.

I pulled a chair closer and finally sat. My elbows rested on my knees, my eyes never leaving her. I had cases waiting, calls piling up, my brothers, and a certain woman texting me diligently, but none of it mattered right now.

The sound of the door opening stirred me, and I looked toward the entrance. Melody walked inside with two cups and a tired, pale face.

“I missed your adolescent humor in the OR,” she said, handing me a paper cup filled with a steamy black coffee.

“You don’t need my guidance to remove an appendix.” I settled deeper into the chair and bit my lower lip when she dragged another chair across the floor, the screeching sound making my eyes twitch.

“True.” She plopped beside me, offering me cream and putting too much sugar into her cup. “But I’m used to the noises in the background.”

“That’s what I am?” I lifted a brow, feigning offense. “Background noise?”

“Oh, don’t get sensitive.” She flashed me a wicked grin that suggested it was exactly the reaction she hoped for. She stretched her legs and crossed them at the ankles, glancing at the monitors. “Why are you here? Are you expecting trouble?”

“No.” I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “I promised to be here when she wakes up.”

“The man who laughed at me when I slept in the patient room to keep him company,” she teased, nudging me with her elbow playfully.