Risk of a Lifetime. Caroline Anderson
specialist registrar,’ he confirmed, those heavily lashed eyes the colour of storm clouds meeting hers and holding them. A warm, strong hand engulfed her own as that firm, chiselled mouth tilted into a smile, and everything inside her lurched.
Her pulse spiked, and she could feel heat spreading out from her hand, all the way up her arm, settling in the region of her locked-down diaphragm like a fireball.
And she was blushing.
No. Not a blush. A flush.
Different.
Worse, the heat from the fireball was spreading upwards now, creeping up her body towards her face.
Could he see it? Please, God, no—
Breathe, Annie!
The sound of the siren penetrated the swirling fog that was her brain, and she sucked in a breath and snatched her hand back, resisting the urge to wipe it on her scrubs, as if she could wipe away her reaction to his touch.
‘Sounds like we might be in business. Are we ready?’
One look at Kate and it was clear that she was. Ready for anything their new SpR cared to throw at them—unlike her. She was blushing and flushing and generally getting in a dither. Oh, this was ridiculous...
But Kate’s sensible self was back in charge, thank goodness, and she nodded briskly. ‘We’re good to go.’
‘Right.’
The sirens screamed to a halt, leaving a shocking silence, and her brain finally snapped back to life.
‘OK, we’re on. Let’s go and find out what we’ve got.’
‘Mind if I tag along?’ he asked quietly. ‘I’m Paeds trained.’
‘Sure. Feel free. We can always use another pair of hands.’
She pushed the door out of the way, oddly desperate to escape the confines of Resus. She didn’t do this—didn’t get hot and flustered and all quivery inside.
Ever. At all. Men were firmly off her menu, now and into the hereafter. Maybe longer.
And Dr Gorgeous was definitely a man.
She took a deep breath and walked briskly out to the ambulance bay, deeply conscious of the man keeping pace by her side. The doors of the ambulance flew open, the steps flipped down and the doctor in her kicked in.
At last.
She forgot all about him, forgot everything except the sobbing child and the look of terror on the face of his mother as the paramedics who’d brought them in reeled off his stats and the treatment to date.
And as she nodded at the paramedic and smiled at the mother, she could see Ed scanning the child with his eyes, assessing him rapidly. Good. She turned her attention to the mother.
‘Hi, I’m Annie, I’m a doctor, and this is Ed. We’re going to be looking after your son. What’s his name?’
‘Cody,’ his mother said unsteadily. ‘Cody Phillips. Oh, please, help him.’
‘We will.’
The calm, confident voice came from Ed, who was leaning over the trolley as they pushed it in, looking down at the boy. Cody’s right eye was swollen shut, a blue stain under the skin of his temple and cheek, and he was sobbing, but Ed just smiled and held his hand as if it was all fine. ‘Hi, Cody, I’m Ed. It’s all right, you’re in good hands. We’ve got you, mate. We’ll soon make you feel better.’
The low, quiet voice was reassuring, and Annie felt the tension drain out of her. Kind as well as gorgeous. Now to check out his clinical skills to see if they matched up. He was certainly doing all right so far.
‘You can lead if you like,’ she said, and he nodded.
‘Will you do the FAST scan, please?’
‘Sure.’
Like a well-oiled machine, the team went into action, and gradually Annie felt herself relax.
He was good, she realised. More than that, he was very good. She stopped watching his every move, and concentrated on what she was doing.
* * *
‘Results are through.’
‘And?’
He moved up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth coming off him. She forced herself to focus on the screen.
‘Well, according to the report he’s got no obvious brain injury and there certainly doesn’t seem to be any sign of it, but he’s got a fracture of the right orbit.’
Ed was looking over her shoulder at the MRI scan images, his head just in her line of sight, and he winced. ‘Must have been quite a whack. I wonder if he’ll end up with any loss of vision. The swelling could put a lot of pressure on that eye.’ He leaned in closer, bringing him right up against her. ‘Am I imagining it, or is the orbit slightly compressed?’
She shifted sideways a fraction. ‘Possibly. What a shame. Poor little Cody.’
She turned but Ed was still right there, studying the images on the screen, his chest just inches from her nose. She sucked in a breath, but that was a mistake, because with the air came a faint trace of soap and red-blooded man.
‘Want me to talk to the parents?’ he asked, the tingle of chilli in that low, melting-chocolate voice setting fire to her nerve endings again.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ she said briskly.
She ducked past him, and he followed her back to the child’s side where Cody’s parents were waiting anxiously for the verdict, his mother’s eyes brimming with fear as she watched them approach.
It wasn’t surprising. Cody’s father had arrived shortly after the ambulance, and although they’d eliminated any other injuries in the last hour, this was the thing that was worrying them all the most and frankly this family needed some good news. Annie smiled at them reassuringly.
‘OK, we’ve had a look at the report now and although he’s got a facial fracture Cody doesn’t have an obvious brain injury, which is great news—’
‘So—he’s all right?’ his mother asked, hope replacing the fear.
‘Well, nothing obvious has been detected in his brain,’ she cautioned, ‘but that doesn’t mean he’s out of the woods yet. He’ll be a bit concussed and have a horrible headache anyway, but sometimes the brain swells after a bump like this so he’ll need constant monitoring for the next few hours just in case, but they should be able to manage it if it happens. However, the fracture extends to his eye socket where his cheekbone’s taken the impact, so he’s certainly not unscathed. It’s going to be sore and because of where it is, it might have implications for his sight.’
Her eyes widened, the fear back. A new fear this time, and she pressed her fingers to her mouth.
‘He could go blind?’ the father asked, his voice rough with emotion.
‘I think that’s unlikely, but it might alter his vision in that eye. They’ll get the ophthalmic and maxillo-facial teams to have a really good look at it while he’s in here, but it might take time for the swelling to go down before they can assess it fully. As soon as they have a bed he’ll be transferred up to the paediatric intensive care unit, PICU, for monitoring and pain relief until they’re happy with him, and then he’ll be moved to a ward. They’ll talk to you up there about his progress and what they’re going to do, if anything. He’ll probably be in here a couple of days, all being well, but so far we’re cautiously optimistic that he’ll make a full recovery. Children are very resilient.’
His mother’s shoulders slumped—with relief? Worry? Guilt?
All of it. She knew all about a mother’s guilt. She lived with it every working day, but needs must and so far the girls seemed well adjusted.