than ready, Georgie boy.”
Samantha cocked an eyebrow. Georgie boy?
George just grinned at Mrs. Walker as he got her to her feet and sitting on the gurney. “We’re going to get you loaded up and off to the hospital.”
Samantha and George worked to get Mrs. Walker over to the next departing ambulance as theirs was blocked in by a police cruiser.
Once Mrs. Walker was loaded and the door was shut George slammed on the back to signal to the driver it was okay to leave.
They stepped back as ambulance headed up the newly cleared wrong side of the highway toward the hospital.
The fire crew was waving people away from the tanker, which was beginning to smoke.
“We have to clear out of here. The tanker is unstable,” Samantha said.
“I think that’s—” The words died in George’s throat as a woman let out a gut-wrenching scream. The kind Samantha recognized. The pain of a mother.
“My baby!”
Samantha swung her head to see a little girl, a toddler, running up the highway to the smoking tanker, the firefighters oblivious to her.
The mother was screeching the girl’s name but was unable to move because of being strapped to a gurney and getting ready to be transported.
George took one look at the girl and went running.
Samantha reached out to grab him, but her fingertips just brushed George’s shirt as he ran through the protesting firefighters and police toward the tanker and the little girl.
“Atavik, get your ass back here!” Samantha shouted, starting after him, but the moment she got close a firefighter grabbed her and held her back.
“Whoa, you can’t go.”
“I have to. He’s my partner. My stupid partner.” Samantha pointed in the direction of George.
The firefighter spun round. “He’s an idiot.”
Samantha’s heart was in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears, as she was forced away and back.
In situations like this, things really did move in slow motion.
She watched as he ran toward the tanker, which burst into flames, knocking the little girl back. He scooped up the terrified girl and started running back to safety as firefighters with hoses ran toward him and then past him to tackle the roaring fire engulfing the remains of the tanker.
He held the little girl against his chest, one protective arm around her head, holding her close as he ran past the fray, like a football player holding a ball tight and streaking towards the end zone.
Samantha’s pulse rate eased and she pushed the firefighter away as George made his way toward her. He was panting and there was soot on his face and his arm looked burned.
“You’re burned.”
“I know.” George moved toward, not caring as he delivered the sobbing little girl to her mother.
“Thank you. Oh, God. Thank you.” The mother clung to her child, sobbing. “Thank you.”
George grinned, nodded and patted the blonde girl’s head as she gripped her mother tight.
As two other paramedics wheeled the woman away George groaned and glanced at his arm, cursing under his breath.
Samantha just crossed her arms and glared at him. “Well, looks like we have another patient to take to the hospital. Get in the ambulance, Atavik.”
George winced as the ER doctor slathered his burn and then wrapped it.
“You’re quite a hero, I hear,” she said, as she wrapped his wound. “You’re lucky that this wound wasn’t more serious.”
George winced and then shrugged. “You would’ve done the same.”
His gaze landed on Samantha, who was out in the hall, pacing, angrily. He could tell. He’d seen Charlotte pace just like that.
There was a police officer standing with her, taking notes.
Shoot.
He hoped he wasn’t in trouble and on his first day. He didn’t want to get booted out of the course. Trainees weren’t supposed to do stuff like running toward an exploding tanker. Then another person entered the pantomime and George rolled his eyes.
Good. God.
“George!” Quinn came into the trauma room.
The ER doctor turned and looked. “Family member?”
“Yeah, brother-in-law.”
“Only physicians are allowed beyond this point,” she said, putting herself between him and Quinn.
“I’m a doctor. Dr. Quinn Devlyn.” Quinn pushed past her.
“Devlyn,” George said.
“I heard what you did.” Quinn shook his head and dragged his hand through his hair. “How am I going to explain that to Charlotte and Mentlana?”
“Don’t?” George was confused.
“Too late.”
“How the heck did you hear about it? Did my partner call you? Because, dude, no offense but you’re not my emergency contact.”
Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose. “You made the national news, you dolt. That’s how I found out.”
Damn.
“National news?” George rubbed his eyes with his good hand. “I’m in trouble.”
“You are that. Charlotte’s already called me three times and told me to get to the hospital and kick you in the butt, but also to kiss you. Just so we’re clear, I’m not doing that!”
George chuckled. “I appreciate it.”
Quinn sighed. “She doesn’t want Liv growing up without her uncle.”
George chuckled. “Would she prefer it if I dressed in bubble wrap on duty?”
“Your sisters worry about you,” Quinn said. “Your partner looks a bit miffed, though.”
George glanced over Quinn’s shoulder at Samantha, who was openly glaring at him again.
Double damn.
“When are you flying back up to Nunavut?” George asked.
“Tomorrow—why?”
“I may be joining you.” George moved his bandaged arm and winced.
“Was it a bad burn?” Quinn looked at Dr. Inkpen.
“No, not too bad.” She wrote the discharge information. “Take ibuprofen for the pain and just keep it clean and dry. I trust you know what you’re doing, George.”
George took the paper she handed to him.
“Thanks, Doctor.”
George tucked the discharge sheet into his pocket and climbed out of the chair they’d had him seated on while they’d examined his arm.
“She was cute,” Quinn remarked, nudging him in the ribs.
“Dude, are you trying to set me up now?”
Quinn grinned, but then he sobered. “We all worry about you. It’s been a year.”
George sighed.
He was painfully aware it had been a year.
He knew, because it was burned into his brain as freshly as the day it had happened.
“I don’t really want