Christy McKellen - Mills & Boon Showcase

This was not a made-up appearance, this was who he was—a man like no other. She couldn’t look away, even when parts of her reacted treacherously, still apparently remembering the feel of and taste of him from nights earlier.

Aside from unwanted attraction, she couldn’t move past the astonishment of watching Matt walk up to her table and take a seat opposite her, so much like years past that it hurt, and she swallowed the pain she felt rising within her. She waited, speechless, to hear what was going to come next. What else did they have to say to each other? How much more pain could they cause each other?

“Ask me how I found you?” It was more of a challenge than a question. He was resting on his forearms on the table, his body leaning forward, his entire focus on her.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly, confused with where the conversation was going.

He reached over and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, twirling it in his fingers before he uncovered her face. “Because, Kate, I know you.”

“No, you don’t.” She lacked his conviction. His single touch had been less physically intimate than most of their contact since his return, but emotionally it tore at her resolve. He seemed to believe every word he was saying, but she still felt the need to contradict him, to protect herself from the temptation of him.

“Yes, Kate, I do. I appreciate and respect everything that you have accomplished, but that doesn’t change who you are.”

“Who am I, Matt?” She couldn’t resist the question. It was a question that had plagued her for years. Who was she in his eyes?

“You’re mine.” His eyes flashed with the same possession his words held. She should have been offended, she should have been afraid, but what she felt was want.

“No.” The word escaped her lips, but in truth it was more a reminder to herself of what she could not have.

“Yes, you are, Kate, you always have been. You and I both know that.”

She had been his. She couldn’t deny that she had been one hundred percent in her feelings towards him, so much so that the memory of their coming together still brought with it as much a memory of completeness as it did emotional pain. She had also never given him up, not completely, not enough to move on and fall in love with someone else. Enough was enough, though. She wasn’t going to let him keep playing whatever game he was playing.

“What do you want, Matt?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you.”

“It’s too late, Matt, you can’t have me.” Nothing changed in his demeanor, except that he appeared even more focused and more all-encompassing. He had heard her, but obviously didn’t believe her.

“I already have you, Kate, and this time I have no intention of walking away. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we’ll all be better off.”

Then, without warning, he stood over the table, leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. This time he lingered. She could smell his cologne, breathed in his scent, and felt that heat of his body, before he pulled away. Then, just as he had joined her, he turned and left.

Shock seeped through her from her forehead, which he had kissed so sweetly, to all the muscles inside her that contracted at his touch. Several parts of their conversation competed for attention in her mind. Had he remembered the night she had cried about her mother and he had kissed her on the forehead after carrying her to bed, the night she had realized she was in love with him?

Then there were his words, not just the words but the way he had said them. He had left no room for doubt that he had meant everything he had said. But would she know if he hadn’t? She had spent her career learning to trust herself and her instincts, but with Matt she couldn’t trust herself, her feelings, or him. All the words, declarations, and touches couldn’t change the words that had been carved into her soul. “Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.”

The offensive wail of her pager broke through her thoughts and provided temporary respite. She dialed the hospital operator and was patched through to the emergency department. Within a minute she was gone from the shop, her focus back where it needed to be and the past left behind.

SHE REACHED THE hospital within fifteen minutes and was in the trauma room gowned and shielded before the ambulance arrived. Chloe was standing next to her, both women waiting. This time their entire interaction was succinct and directed towards patient care.

The ambulance attendants rolled a gurney into the trauma room and the patient was transferred to the hospital bed. The young man appeared to be in his early twenties and was strapped to a backboard with full C-spine precautions. Chloe took the head of the bed and assessed his airway and level of consciousness while he was hooked up to monitors, and Kate and the trauma-team nurses completed a full body survey, assessing for areas of maximal trauma and prioritizing injuries for care.

“His airway is compromised and GCS is six—we need to intubate,” Kate heard Chloe order. And for a window of ninety seconds the team stood back while Chloe intubated the young man. After the endotracheal tube was in place, she and Kate auscultated the lung fields. She didn’t hear any breath sounds on the right, and Chloe confirmed the finding.

“Set up for a chest tube,” Kate called. A sterile tray of instruments was opened and after quickly prepping the skin and changing into sterile gloves, she made a stab incision above one of the man’s ribs and inserted the hard plastic tube until she felt a loss of resistance and heard the trapped air escaping, allowing the man’s lung to reinflate.

“Breath sounds on the right established. Good job, Kate,” Chloe said.

Once the patient’s airway, breathing and circulation had been stabilized, Kate continued. “Details,” she called to the paramedic team, who remained in the room.

“Unknown male, traveling by bicycle when he was hit at moderate speed by a mid-sized SUV. The patient was found several yards from his bicycle, with his helmet still in place but cracked in multiple locations.”

“Has he been conscious since your team arrived?”

“No.”

“Chloe, once you’re happy he’s stable for movement, we need to move for a full-body CT. I need to know what to worry about first, blood in his brain or blood in his chest and belly.”

“He should be stable enough in five minutes. He needs more volume so that he can maintain his pressure and make up for any ongoing losses prior to going to the operating room.”

“Okay. I’m going to call the OR now and have them set up. Have the team page me once his scans are done so I can review them immediately with the in-house radiologist.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

Four hours later, Kate was finally leaving the intensive care unit, where she had just dropped off her patient direct from the operating room. She was still strapped to her pager as the trauma team leader for the week, but now had a momentary reprieve. The cyclist’s helmet had saved his life. His brain had fared okay in the collision.

Unfortunately, the same could not have been said for his spleen, which had suffered a massive laceration after he had hit the curb. The young man had needed an emergency laparotomy and splenectomy, along with several units of blood and blood products, but was going to recover.

Kate walked back to the emergency department to find Chloe finishing up the paperwork from a shift that should have ended an hour and a half earlier. Kate hadn’t bothered to change out of her scrubs and the clogs she’d worn in the operating room and felt exhausted from the fast pace and physical demands of the procedure. Chloe looked like she felt the same, appearing pale in contrast to her bright red hair and the dark blue of the hospital scrubs the emergency doctors also wore. Kate slumped into the chair beside her friend, losing her normal good posture.