Page 10 of Savage Saint

Drunks. Accidents. People who waited until the last possible moment—after going through the Google rabbit hole of possible diagnoses—to decide that whatever had been hurting for three days probably deserved some attention after all.

Maybe a child or two with a fever, or a helicopter parent who freaked out over the smallest paper cut, only to come in with their kid on an iPad, eating chips.

I was even sure we’d see the yearly pilgrimage of a man who thinks fireworks are a reasonable thing to hold in their bare hands after being lit.

Okay, the last one did happen tonight.

But other than him, his buddy with the same issue, and a pregnant woman with a sprained wrist, that’s been it. It’s been quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes every nurse in the department glance toward the doors and silently wonder what fresh hell is waiting to walk through them.

Because you never voice those thoughts. Never.

Everyone here knows the quickest way to ruin the night is to look at your co-worker and whisper, Wow, it’s a slow night.

You don’t tempt the ER demons. That’s how you summon multiple ambulances carrying multiple injured patients, a screaming mother, and at least one person who somehow managed to get a foreign object lodged somewhere it absolutely does not belong.

I’ve seen it happen. More than once.

So I keep my mouth shut. Like my mom would say, closed mouths don’t call the devil.

For the eighth time in the past hour, I glance at the clock above the nurses’ station. It’s been five minutes since I last checked, and I sigh.

Twelve thirty-eight in the morning.

Another sigh.

“Don’t.” My eyes shift to Katia, who mock-glares at me. “I swear, I will hit you.”

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“You sighed, and I’m on my last wind. Now go be a good bestie and get me some coffee.”

“Sighing and talking aren’t in the same stratosphere, Nena. You just want me to go get the good stuff.”

“We both know they’re the same when you’re a nurse.” Her lips curl into a cheesy grin. “And yes. Absolutely. I’ll take a double shot with some caramel creamer and a splash of half and half.”

Standing, I give her a bow. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”

“You think the morning crew left some chocolate chip cookies? I know Cari brought some in.” Looking down the hall, she lowers her voice. “She called me about them, but we both know Dr.—”

“Uhm, don’t mention that man.” Pompous, arrogant—thinks too highly of himself for being a balding and flabby man. He’s a real lady killer with the personality of a potato. Standing, I reach over and flick her forehead before ducking away. “But I’ll check. Be right back.”

“For that, bring extras!” She’s working a double today and is at that point in the day where everything goes blah. I get it, and her. We’ve been working the same shift for the last year and hit it off right away. Work besties in every sense, and she’s become a huge part of my social circle.

Between her and my best friend Tatiana, I have no downtime.

They are loud, whereas I’m a homebody with a high alcohol tolerance.

They have men warming their beds, whereas I don’t want to fall in love.

I give her a little wave over my shoulder as I head toward the physicians’ lounge. This hospital has several of them, depending on the department and the hours the on-call attendings put in. The ER is one of those departments that’s always given its doctors extra perks—two amazing espresso machines being one of them.

Our nurse break room only has single-serve cups. Nice, but not as rich and strong as the beans brought in from a plantation in the Cibao region, where the beans are grown, processed, and sold from the one family-owned-land.

Because apparently doctors need their coffee to be special. None of that grocery-store-bought kind.

Shaking my head, I take the corridor to my left and head to the very end. It’s where the doctors’ lounge is, and I push the door in, taking in the latest additions since the last time I snuck in.