in unison. Their fragile patient had gone from unstable to arrest.
Knowing it wouldn’t do a bit of good, he stabbed the button for the fourth floor again. Janey could be dying and the two people responsible for her care were stuck on a damned elevator.
“If this thing moves any slower I’ll have to get out and push,” he told Clare.
It felt like an eternity before the elevator dinged for their floor. They stood side by side, like sprinters at the starting line. The instant the doors slid open they broke into a run. By the time he reached her, Janey was in full cardiac arrest. Nurses stood around watching anxiously as a pediatrics resident performed manual CPR on her pale and limp little body. The sight of it was so heartbreaking Parker had to dig down extra deep for the focus to perform his duties.
“Let me through,” he barked, and a group of startled staff instantly cleared the way. He never raised his voice to his team, or anyone for that matter, but this was bad.
“She’s not responding,” the resident said as Parker took over the heart compressions.
“Call her cardiologist,” he barked to no one in particular, knowing someone would do it.
He tried to find a pulse, and couldn’t. “Come on, little one. Fight for me.”
He continued the compressions to no avail.
Damn it, he had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “Paddles,” he said, turning to his left where Clare always stood, surprised to find a different nurse there. He glanced around and found Clare standing way over by the door. Her face looked pale and her eyes wide, and for an instant he was sure she was about to either be sick or lose consciousness. Unfortunately he had a sick infant who took priority.
Even using the paddles it took almost thirty minutes to get Janey stable, and afterward everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief, including him. She was okay for now, but that had been a really close call. He turned to find Clare, who he had assumed wouldn’t leave Janey’s side for the reminder of her shift, but she was gone.
He texted her, checking the hallway as he waited for an answer, but after several minutes the message was still tagged as unread. Clare always read and answered her messages.
He frowned. Something was definitely up.
Assuming she’d gone back to the nurses’ station, he headed that way. “Have you seen Nurse Connelly?” he asked Rebecca, the nursing assistant sitting there.
“She walked by a second ago.” She looked up at him through a veil of what he was sure were fake lashes. “So, I was thinking we could get together again this weekend.”
Oh, no, that was not a good idea. He liked Rebecca, but she was a party girl and these days he could barely stay awake past eleven thirty. His father used to tell him, You’re only as old as you feel. After a night of partying with Rebecca and her friends, he felt about eighty. She was fun and sexy, but the inevitable hangover wasn’t worth it. He could no longer stay out till 3:00 a.m. then make it to work by seven and still function. He was pushing forty. His party days were over.
He checked his phone but still no text.
“Did you see where Nurse Connelly went?” he asked Rebecca, ignoring her suggestion completely, which she didn’t seem to like very much.
“Sorry, no,” she said tartly.
He doubted he would be getting any more help from her. Ironically, this very situation was probably why Clare didn’t date people from work. A lesson he clearly hadn’t learned yet.
So, where the hell had she disappeared to? Did she go back down to the cafeteria? Had she slipped past Rebecca and gone to the elevator? No, he thought with a shake of his head. Knowing Clare, she wouldn’t want anyone to see her lose her cool, so where would she go for guaranteed privacy? At the end of this hall there was a family waiting room—the last place she would go—and the door to the stairs...
Of course! That had to be it. He’d taken a breather or two in the stairwell himself. Or used it to sneak a kiss with a pretty young nurse. She had to be there.
He found Clare sitting on a step halfway between the fourth and fifth floor, arms roped around her legs, head on her knees so her face was hidden.
“Here to harass me in my moment of weakness?” she asked without looking up.
“How did you know it was me?”
“Because that’s the kind of day I’ve been having.” She lifted her head, sniffling and wiping tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palms.
Tears?
Clare was crying?
Just when he thought she couldn’t be more interesting, or perplexing, she threw him a curveball.
“And I know how your shoes sound,” she added. “From hearing you walk up and down the halls.”
He would be flattered that she paid attention, but she paid attention to everything on the ward.
“Are you all right?” He offered her one of the tissues he kept in his lab coat pocket. He dealt with parents of sick children on a daily basis. Tissues were a part of the uniform.
She took it and wiped her nose. “I’m okay. Just really embarrassed. I don’t know what happened in there.”
“You choked,” he said, knowing Clare would want an honest answer. “It happens to the best of us.”
She lifted her chin stubbornly. “Not to me it doesn’t.”
If she had been standing, and was a foot taller, he was sure she would be looking down her nose at him. “At the risk of sounding like a tool, all evidence is to the contrary, cupcake.”
Outraged, she opened her mouth, probably to say something mean, or respond to the cupcake remark, then something inside her seemed to give. Her face went slack and her body sort of sank in on itself. She dropped her head to her knees again, groaning, “You’re right.”
He was? She really must have been out of sorts because she never thought he was right about anything.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“You know those days when you feel like you could take on the world? When everything goes exactly the way you want it to?”
“Sure.”
She looked up at him with red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. “This is not one of those days.”
He cringed. “That bad, huh?”
She dropped her head back down to her knees. “Choking on the job is just the icing on the cake.”
Clearly. “So you really never choked?”
She shook her head, making her messy bun flop from side to side, and said, “Not even in nursing school.”
He took a chance and sat down beside her. She didn’t snarl or hiss, or unsheathe her talons, so that was good. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Shoot me and put me out of my misery.”
“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” he told her. He had heard of surgeons who choked during surgery and never got their confidence back, but this was different. This wasn’t a matter of confidence, this was pure human emotion.
“What if it happens again, when she needs me?” Clare said, looking up at him. She had the prettiest eyes, and she smelled amazing. It would barely take anything to lean in and kiss her. Her lips looked plump and delicious. It might even be worth the concussion afterward, when Clare clocked him.
“If there hadn’t been fifteen other people in the room to compensate, if it had been just you and me, or even just you, I have no doubt that you would have performed admirably,” he said.
“It’s getting more difficult to be objective with her,” Clare said, looking genuinely