Page 3 of Thunder

“I think I’ve lost myself, Brit,” I admit, causing her to sniffle, but I power through, “I’ve done nothing but try to keep this club together, to stop the officer brothers from leaving.” I sigh.

I swallow hard and look at my sister as she lifts her head and locks eyes with me.

“Every brother blamed their club they grew up in. They didn’t just get rid of the problem but instead tried leaving their family, and in trying to keep them here, I’ve lost who I am. I’m struggling to sleep because I feel so lost,” I partly admit, not willing for her to know about my pain, and her tears fall as I plead, “Please don’t hate me for leaving.”

“If it means I get my brother back, then I can’t hate you for it…” She chokes, and I kiss her head just as I hear Doc demand, “What's going on?”

Brit gives me a watery smile, and I look at my brother-in-law, who is frowning, and I admit, “I need to ride…”

Scottie – Age

Twenty-Five

“Is this going to take long?” Mr. Kool snaps as I gently wrap his jittering knee, and I give the man a tight smile.

His pupils are dilated, his skin pale and clammy, he’s agitated. I’m on my own because the ER is busy, meaning if this man becomes aggressive, then I’m pretty much screwed.

“I’m nearly done,” I reply calmly, then lie, “I should be able to discharge you in around ten minutes.”

The man growls with frustration, but I try not to flinch, knowing he is high on something. Security is waiting just outside of the curtain with the police ready to arrest him, though if I agitate him even more, he’ll still be able to hit me a few times before they can intervene, so calm and steady is the way to go.

He tore his knee up, requiring thirty stitches after starting a fight in a bar. He sliced some woman’s face when she said no to going home with him, who is currently four floors up with the plastic surgeons.

This guy isn’t leaving willingly, he’s going to a jail cell, but I just have to keep my composure for another minute or so.

Growing up, becoming an ER doctor was always my dream. I used to dress up my dolls and teddies with bandages I’d find in the medical box in my dad's office. I can be woman enough to admit Grey’s Anatomy was also a big help in making me decide that I wanted to help people for a living. I worked my butt off in high school to get a scholarship knowing my parents wouldn’t agree with my career of choice before I took out student loans for medical school.

My parents wanted me to be an attorney, a role my sister gladly took, following in Mama's footsteps while my brother got his PhD and became a psychologist, working under our father. I’m basically the black sheep of the family, the disappointment deciding to be a freaking doctor. Already four months into my five-year surgical residency, a year earlier than my peers and I can never seem to do anything right, even when my sister decided to have an affair with my boyfriend. We had been together since I was sixteen. When she ended up pregnant with my nephew, Sammie, my parents took her side, told me not to be selfish, that they were becoming a family and I should be happy, blah, blah, blah and don’t get me started when I refused to attend their wedding.

My cheek still hurts from my mother's slap.

“You know, you’re kind of cute,” Mr. Kool slurs, the drugs beginning to take over his system. He is about to become unpredictable.

“Okay, Mr. Kool, I’m all done here. I’ve just got to go get your discharge papers,” I say, not acknowledging his comment as I stand and take off my gloves.

“Are you single?” he asks, suddenly really interested in me, alarming me slightly as his dark, dilated eyes take me in from head to toe.

Crap…

Giving him a tight smile, I lie, “No, I’m not, I’m engaged,” and the man scowls, making the lines on his face more pronounced. “I’ll be back in one moment,” I continue to lie before I grab his chart and leave the area like my ass is on fire, shutting the curtain behind me before he notices the police officers who look at me expectantly and I mumble, “He’s all yours,” as I walk over to the nurse’s station, hating that I was the only one willing to work on the man. A life is still a life even if they are scum.

Another thing my parents are disappointed about – I’m not married, or even seeing anyone, my job being more important.

I work four shifts a week, twenty-four hours per shift, and when I’m not here, I work nights at the local store stocking shelves so I can pay my loans off quicker. I can then save up to buy the two-bedroom house I’m currently renting. I find it hilarious that I’m the disappointment when my brother and his stay-at-home snotty wife live with my parents, not paying his way. And my sister tries to dump her six-year-old son on anyone who will have him, mostly me, even though Kavan got laid off last year after rumors of what he did got around the office.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my nephew, and I hate that he has the most selfish parents. Its why I have him a few weekends a month, but he isn’t my child. He is hers and her responsibility, though it hasn’t stopped her from trying to leave him in my care.

Last week she tried telling Julie, the receptionist, that I agreed to take him but left red-faced when she was informed I still had another twenty hours left of my shift, calling her out on her lie. Julie then threatened to report her to child protective services if she left him.

Mama screamed down the phone at me for an hour straight while I was on my break for not doing my auntie duty because, you know, it’s not like she could take him or anything.

I shake my head as I put the chart on the desk and mutter, “Bed two is about to lose it,” causing Julie to scrunch her nose up as her hazel eyes go to the room where the police are about to storm. Just then, Tilly, a nurse runs past like her ass is on fire making my lips twitch.

“Is it bad that I’m looking forward to the show?” she asks quietly, and I snort, “Nope, because so am I.”

She grins wide just as I hear, “Ah, there you are!” and I groan, dropping my chin to my chest while Julie, who is a work friend, huffs.

“What can I do for you, Rachel?” I ask with a sigh as I sign off Mr. Kool’s chart, then turn and face the witch. I raise a brow at the short black dress that dips down to her navel and the high heels she’s wearing.