their critical injuries. Not when they’d already dodged the entrance to death’s door a little less than a week ago.
Billy threw the radio cables onto the passenger seat of the front cab. “You know what I think?”
No. And judging by the narky tone of Billy’s voice she didn’t want to.
“I think someone wants first dibs on the boss man.”
“Ha! Hardly.”
She waited for him to get out of the ambo before she let her yeah, right face drop.
Okay. Totally. But it wasn’t a factor right now. In an emergency.
She only did crushes from a distance. The second she stepped on to Maple Island? It would be work only.
Besides, her “crush” was nothing more than professional admiration.
Dr. Alex Kirkland was the answer to her prayers, professionally.
She was good at her job and working for Alex would only make her better. Not that she’d even spoken to him yet. She’d been hired by the clinic’s co-founder, Cody Brennan, when he’d been over visiting a post-op patient she had been treating at Boston Harbor.
This was the chance of a lifetime and she wasn’t going to let her poor taste in boyfriends destroy her future. It had taken three long years to build herself back up again after what Eric had done to her and no way was she going to let his arrival back in Boston push her back to that soul-destroying emotional precipice again.
She thumbed through her phone, barely catching her balance as the ferry reacted to another impact. There were high screeching sounds this time. The unmistakable scream of metal on rock.
Her heart dropped to her knees. Her badly bruised knees.
Didn’t matter.
Maggie did another quick check of Peyton and Connor’s stats. All good, despite the fact that being bounced around like this wasn’t strictly on the rehab list. Just as well she and Billy had agreed to keep the children strapped into the ambulance instead of stretchering them onto the semi-exposed passenger desk as one officious cost-cutting administrator at Boston Harbor Hospital had suggested. Er...anyone ever heard of patient safety? She might be a goofball on any number of fronts, but patient welfare was definitely not one of them.
“You two all right?” She received a pair of dopey smiles. The painkillers were obviously doing their job. Excellent. The last thing she wanted was to add fear to the mix.
A crisp, efficient male voice answered the ringing phone with the name of the clinic.
“Hello? It’s Maggie Green here from Boston Harbor. May I speak with Dr. Kirkland please?”
“This is he.”
An unexpected trill of anticipation twirled around her heart and squeezed it tight. Alex Kirkland was legendary when it came to rehabilitation. His clinic. His terms. The place was a wonderland for a dedicated rehab physio. A job there was a true professional coup.
And a great place to hide away from ex-boyfriends.
The ferry came to a sudden halt then just as quickly felt like it was falling backwards. She yelped and braced herself to avoid falling on the children.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
She wanted to say yes. She wanted to say everything was on track. Instead...she was going to have to set aside her deep-seated instinct not to ask for help.
“Not really. I’m on the ferry with the Walsh twins and—Whoa!”
Alex’s voice clicked into the type of quick, professional tone an emergency operator would use. He was calm, assuring. “Maggie, can you still hear me? Are you with the children now?”
“Yes.”
“Are they all right?”
“Yes. We’re on the ferry as scheduled. Dr. Valdez got us all sorted at the docks, but it—Oops!”
Her hands flew out to brace herself and in the process knocked a supplies basket off the wall. She arched her body so the small boxes of gauze would fall on her and not Connor. The last thing he needed was more things falling on him.
“Maggie, where is Dr. Valdez now?”
She inched her way back to her seat and buckled herself in again.
“He had to stay in Boston to do an emergency surgery. The children are fine, but a fierce storm’s blown in unexpectedly and the ferry seems to have run into some trouble.”
The back door to the ambo flew open, along with a huge gust of wintry air. It was Billy. His features had turned ashen. “We’ve hit a rock. A big huge—”
Maggie drew a line across her throat and pointed at the children. She mimed closing the door as she tried to keep her voice steady. “We appear to have had a bit of a collision.” As she watched Billy struggle to close the doors behind him, her mind reeled with ways to get the children off safely. The wind was obviously too strong for a helicopter. Not to mention that their clear day had turned into one with zero visibility. They must be halfway between Boston and Maple Island. Only half an hour on a good day. On a bad one? She didn’t have a clue.
The ferry was being bashed around by the waves so there wasn’t a chance in the universe the tiny lifeboats would be of any use. Unless they were sinking.
Oh, jeezy-peeps. They’d better not be sinking.
“Can you send anyone to fetch us? We might be in somewhat of a pickle here.” The biggest type of pickle, actually. The life-or-death kind if this was going the way she feared. Maggie bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood.
“Leave it with me.” Alex’s rich southern voice was exactly the solid reassurance she needed to hear. “Your priority is the children.” Then the phone went dead.
She stared at the phone. The man certainly wasn’t one for small talk.
Right now isn’t the time for pleasantries, you idiot!
Besides, he was ex-military, wasn’t he? All the doctors she’d worked with who had served were more about action than chitchat.
“You two twin berries all right?” Maggie started taking everything down from the sides of the ambulance that could fall, doing her best to sound calm when everything inside her was freaking right the heck out of Dodge. Chances were they were going to have to get out of the ambulance asap.
An obstetrics kit fell off its wall hook. She grabbed it just in time.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
She swept a lock of black hair away from Peyton’s face with one of her rainbow-color painted nails. “How you holding up there, hon? You okay?”
The ten-year-old was looking pretty pale, but then again blunt trauma to her spinal column was no laughing matter. Neither was the resulting Brown-Sequard syndrome. The rare spinal injury could have been deadly. A wooden shard from the scaffolding that had collapsed on her and her brother had pierced her spinal cord, triggering the neurological response. Dr. Valdez had stopped the spinal fluid from leaking and, whilst she still was experiencing some numbness and sensory loss, it looked as though she would not suffer permanent paralysis.
The minor fractures she’d received to her spinal column? Well. Time and a positive attitude were going to be both the twins’ best friends for the next few months. An amazing surgeon from Spain had helped, too. And not sinking in an ambulance on a ferryboat just off the coast of Boston? That would also be a factor.
She pinned on a smile. “It looks like New Year’s Day is a bit more wild than we thought.”
“I’m okay if Connor’s okay,” Peyton whispered.
Boom!
This