3

PENELOPE

Most people hated spending all night in the Emergency Room. Not me—I loved it. But that was because I wasn’t the one waiting in a room full of coughing people. I wasn’t sick or injured. I wasn’t even required to sit in those god-awful plastic chairs.

Instead, I was the one helping those people. Well, all except for those crappy chairs in the ER. No one, not even a skilled nurse, could save people from that torment.

My long shifts kept me on my feet all night. I crept home at dawn, too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed. Night after night, I saw the best and worst of what humanity had to offer.

And I loved it.

I got to help people. I got to save people. What could be better than that?

Okay, the hours could be better. And the pay. And the doctors could stand to be less arrogant and obnoxious. But there was no getting around that patients needed me. That was all that mattered.

“I’m going on a break,” my colleague Avalon said as she hurried past me. We’d started our shift together, and so far, neither of us had even had a spare moment to even use the bathroom. I didn’t blame Avalon for catching a few moments for herself between patients. If I got the chance, I was going to do the same thing.

In the interim, I entertained the hope that she might bring back some coffee for me, but that hope vanished when she rushed back, her white sneakers thudding against the worn tile as she headed my way. "GSW in the ambulance bay!"

Even as I dashed after her, my stomach, already empty, seemed to churn. Gunshot wounds weren't uncommon in New York City, especially at night, but I never grew accustomed to them. Not after what happened to Colby.

"Are you alright?" Avalon glanced back at me. "It's a young man."

"Of course," I replied, though it wasn't entirely true. However, that didn't matter. My duty was to assist the patient in any capacity I could, and that's precisely what I intended to do.

We arrived at the entrance to the ambulance bay just as two orderlies wheeled in a stretcher. There were no flashing lights on the other side of the door, but I had no time to fret over the origin of the patient.

Instead, my gaze fell upon the writhing young man on the gurney. For a moment, all I could see was a youth with a severely wounded chest, dirt mingled in his blond hair, his youthful face twisted in agony.

"Colby," I murmured.

"Penelope!" Avalon shot me a glare as she struggled to place an oxygen mask on the flailing patient. "Assist me."

With a shake of my head, I blinked to clear my vision. It wasn't Colby. The man didn't even have blond hair. Still, it was difficult to shake the image of my brother. What I wouldn't give to see him again, even if just for a moment. Even if he were in pain like this patient. Being in pain was preferable to being deceased.

"They said his name is Leonel Turner, age twenty-nine," a male orderly stated, nodding toward two tall men who were being held back by security. Apparently, they weren't pleased to be told they couldn't accompany their friend, but then again, no friends or family liked receiving such news.

Those individuals weren't my concern—their friend was. We wheeled the stretcher into a section cordoned off by curtains and commenced assessing the damage as the man's cries pierced the air.

His blue T-shirt was torn and stained with fresh blood. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I cut away the fabric, revealing a well-built chest marred by bleeding wounds in at least a dozen places.

"I'll page Dr. Baines," Avalon announced as I surveyed the injuries. He was scraped up, with bits of what appeared to be gravel embedded in his smooth, tanned skin. However, it was the deeper wounds that gave me cause for concern.

“I think those are pellets,” I muttered as I wiped away blood and dirt.

“Better than bullets,” Avalon said.

“No, it’s not,” the man said, wincing as I touched his damaged skin.

I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Usually patients in this state were in too much pain to make sense. “Mr. Turner, we’re going to take good care of you.”

“Leon,” he corrected, but then his eyes squeezed shut as he groaned.

“Hang in there, Leon,” Avalon said.

The curtain flew open. “What have we got?” Dr. Baines appeared, and I was grateful that he was on duty tonight. He was a bit less arrogant than most of the doctors who worked here.Justa bit, but it was better than nothing. Plus, he was married so he didn’t try to hit on Avalonn and me constantly—not that that stopped some of the other married men around here.

Avalon gave him the run-down as Leon’s eyes opened again. They were hazel with specks of gold. He raised his hand, pawing at the front of my scrubs. If a guy who wasn’t injured had done that, I would’ve smacked him. But I’d seen many patients do this, and I knew what he wanted. I clasped his hand in mine and squeezed. I brushed the dark, spiky hair back from his face with the other. “You’re going to be okay, Leon.”

He nodded, staring into my eyes as Dr. Baines worked over him and Avalon put a port in his arm. I could see the moment the sedative hit him. He blinked once, then twice. “Just relax, and let us take care of you.”

Though his eyelids were drooping, he stared at me for a long moment. And in that moment, I saw something that filled me with warmth: trust. He trusted me, and by God, I wouldn’t let him down. I squeezed his hand and gave him a smile as his eyes closed and he drifted off.