but they still needed to be seen. And she seriously doubted that they would be leaving any time soon with this storm.
First she dealt with a patient who was having a severe gall bladder attack. She had the labs drawn to check the liver panels and see if the gall bladder attack warranted emergency surgery or if they could wait.
Then there was a bad sprain and a bump on the head to check out.
Dr. Lynne returned and handed over the tablet with the images. “Here you are, Dr. Lockwood.”
The images showed internal bleeding from a ruptured spleen and the lab work revealed that the patient was indeed a crystal meth user. “We need to get him into the OR. I believe that OR One was prepped and ready to go.”
Dr. Lynne shook her head. “Dr. Davenport is in there with the passenger. The pneumothorax was extensive and there are no cardiothoracic surgeons at the hospital because of the storm.”
Dammit.
“Okay, well, prep OR Two, then. We need to get Mr. Jones in there before he bleeds out. Hang some blood to compensate for the loss while we prep.”
“Yes, Dr. Lockwood.” Dr. Lynne took back the tablet and left.
Ella felt exhaustion setting in as she glanced around the chaotic ER floor.
Dr. Lynne was her most capable resident and though she’d like to have her in the OR with her, Ella needed her on the ER floor while both the trauma surgeons who were still at Manhattan Mercy worked on patients.
Dr. Lynne would be able to run her ER while she went into surgery.
It was going to be a long day. And the longer this storm went on, the worse the casualties were going to get. There would be more accidents, more emergencies.
And she was going to be stuck here with Zac, working with him, but all she could think about was the kiss in the on-call room and that was a dangerous path to tread. One she’d promised herself she’d never walk again.
She had to get it together.
She needed more coffee.
A lot more coffee.
BY THE TIME Ella finished the splenectomy it felt like she’d run a marathon. Her whole body ached. She was tired, but she had no time to stop as she leaned over the scrub-room sink and rubbed her neck, trying to stretch herself.
Her feet were aching.
She had to stand on a stool to operate. Operating Room Two’s table didn’t go down low enough for her and Mr. Jones was a tall man. Taller than her. Her feet and her were not friends at the moment. They were screaming at her in protest for still working. When she went off she planned to get a good massage.
“You look tired,” Zac said as she leaned against the scrub-room door.
“You’re done?” she asked. Then he frowned and her stomach sank and she understood why he was done. “That bad.”
He nodded. “Even if a cardiothoracic surgeon had been available, there was just too much damage. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, the paramedics told me, and her blood was filled with crystal meth. Her tissue was so friable that sutures wouldn’t hold.”
Ella sighed. “Mr. Jones is stable but in the ICU. Splenectomy, and also his labs showed the drug in his system.”
Zac nodded. “I’ll give him some time before I tell him about his wife.”
Ella’s heart hurt. This was the worst part of the job. Especially in light of the holiday. “I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t need to, Ella. You’re exhausted.” There was concern on his face, as if he really cared about her, but she didn’t need his pity.
“I know, but he’s my patient and, it’s not like I haven’t delivered bad news before.”
Zac nodded. “A sad reality to our job.”
“Have you been down to the emergency room?” she asked as she stretched her back. “Do you know how it is?”
“The same as it was before.”
Ella tsked under her breath. “The calm before the storm.”
“Except it’s storming now.” He gave her a half-hearted smile at his pathetic joke and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “At least Charles’s new generator system is holding.”
“That’s something.” And she tried not to think of the chaos caused a couple of months ago, the last time the power had gone out.
“Want to go get some coffee before the fray?” Zac asked.
Ella nodded. “Yes.”
They walked side by side, not touching and not saying a word as they headed to the staffroom where they’d had their first run-in at the beginning of this crazy shift.
“Look, about that kiss...” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean that to happen. Just exhaustion. As you know, I haven’t been really sleeping.”
“Traumatic experiences can do that. I’m sorry your last tour was so hard.”
“It wasn’t,” he snapped. “I wish you’d let it go.”
“Zac, you had a near meltdown when those lights when out and then at Charles’s wedding...”
“What about Charles’s wedding?”
“The corks popping? You ducked under the table,” she said.
“I dropped my napkin. I don’t recall corks popping.” He laughed. “It’s absurd to think I’d hide from something like that. Really.”
“And the lights-going-out thing?”
“A momentary lapse. I have it under control. Just like the kiss. It was a lapse and it won’t happen again.”
Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. It stung that he was apologizing for something that had been wonderful, even if she hadn’t wanted it to happen again.
Liar.
“It’s okay. It was my fault. As for that not-sleeping thing, do you want to talk about it?”
“No, there’s nothing to discuss,” he said matter-of-factly. “I had a bit of insomnia, trying to get into the routine of working at Manhattan Mercy and living in New York again and not on a naval base or on a ship.”
“I bet that’s quite an adjustment,” she said, pushing him, and when he frowned at her, his eyes narrowing, she realized that perhaps she shouldn’t push him too far. Although there had been a time when they’d been younger when she and Zac had shared a lot.
This closed-off attitude...this wasn’t like Zac.
How do you know? You didn’t think Zac could hurt you like he did, but he did. He humiliated you. You don’t know him.
“It is.”
“Okay, but I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
“Thanks.” There was no sincerity in that remark. He wasn’t grateful, his tone was annoyed. And she knew there would be no discussion. Zac had thrown up a wall.
Even when they’d been young, there had been a wall. He’d hidden his emotions well. He’d played with a poker face, which was why she’d been duped all those years ago. For a brief moment she’d seen past the rebel and she’d got to see a glimmer of what she thought was the real Zac Davenport, the one she’d known before he’d become a teenager and a man, but after he’d humiliated her, she hadn’t known what to believe.
She didn’t trust him.
And she