Chapter 22
Sage
The truck rumbled down the highway so fast that the boat was bumping behind, threatening to make the truck buck. Sage twisted around to make sure they weren’t going to lose it.
She clutched her stomach to make sure she wasn’t going to lose it. When kids were hurt, that was the worst part of her job. “I wonder where the helicopter is.” She pulled out her phone to text Chrissy, who was the head nurse on shift today. Chrissy knew everything, including the location of the life-flight services.
Tyanne growled. “That’s what is so annoying about Mendon. The whole region only has one medical helicopter, and they don’t have enough staff at the hospital to manage if something like this happens. Why aren’t they more prepared?”
At the steering wheel, Tate spoke for the first time since they climbed aboard. “They were trying to be prepared. No one expected Dr. Parrish to die. Or for his replacement to be abandoning the town to the care of that quack.”
“Quack?” Jasher’s words bit. “What are you talking about?”
Sage’s gaze flew between Tate and Jasher. What was going on?
“You know.” Tate’s glance could have sliced granite.
“Seriously, Tate. What are you talking about?” Jasher asked. “Never mind. We’re almost in town. Save it until after we’re done here.”
“Believe me, I’ll be back with my arguments, Jasher.” Tate pulled into the circular drive in front of Mendon Regional Medical Center and Sage leaped out of the crew cab door, followed quickly by Jasher. They broke into a jog, but Tyanne called from the front window of the truck, “Save some lives, Jash. Make them love you again.”
“Fat chance,” he hollered back. “Nothing can do that.”
The past two minutes of conversation between the men swirled for a moment in Sage’s brain, but she shoved it aside because lives could be on the line. She dashed to the scrubs closet, took off her sundress, and put a pair of hospital greens over her ridiculous swimsuit. She shoved her hair into a medical cap and scrubbed up and then found a pair of makeshift nurse’s shoes in a lost-and-found bin. They’d have to do—since otherwise she was in flip-flop sandals.
Sage raced to the ER. Jasher was already there, examining a patient on a gurney. Paramedics stood beside him, giving Jasher details of their observations.
“The patient is Barry Michaelson, age fifteen. Was driving a farm vehicle, not wearing a seatbelt. On the blind curve, two other vehicles had collided, and young Barry didn’t see them for the angle of the sun on the curve, and his tractor crashed into the already wrecked cars.”
Sage clenched her teeth and swallowed hard. Kids and cars, and speed and curves, and inexperience had worked together into a tragedy today. Barry looked rough.
“Let’s get an x-ray for Barry.” Jasher held the boy’s hand. “Barry? Can you hear me? We’re going to check you out and then fix you up. You’re going to be all right.”
Was he? Really? Sage had seen bruises like Barry sported on his head in the past, and some concussions that hadn’t ended well.
Jasher turned to the attending nurse. “Full x-ray work-up. Head to toe.”
“Yes, doctor.”
Another ambulance arrived, and two patients rolled in. “Head wound.” The paramedic hovered. “We’ve given him a coagulant.”
Another team took the bleeder, while Sage and Jasher took the second gurney. “Spinal injury. Possible breakage.”
Broken spine!
“I’ll take this one, guys.” Jasher pushed forward.
“I didn’t know you were on shift today, Dr. Hotchkiss.” Lisa, a pretty paramedic, batted her eyelashes. Why did a sliver choose then to wedge its way into Sage’s heart? Not jealousy! Not when Sage couldn’t possibly be claiming Jasher as her own. Despite the galloping, runaway stampede of their kiss at the reservoir. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She spoke in a breathy, desire-laden voice.
Ugh.
Jasher didn’t seem to notice. “Name of the patient?”
“Cade Calhoun,” Lisa said. “But I can see why you don’t recognize him. He’s pretty beat up.”
Cade Calhoun! Oh, poor Jasher. This was not good. Or fair.
Sage held her breath. Would Jasher stay? Or would he walk away?