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She clears her throat as Prue stomps her foot again and heads for the exit. Doc takes security to the bed to speak to the parents, ignoring the woman I could swear was his girlfriend. I mean, they're dating, right?
"Can you give me a little details regarding your concerns? Then we'll send someone down," the woman says, making me blink and clear my throat.
I explain the situation, happy that social services has a floor in the hospital, and she states she'll send someone down immediately.
Suddenly, a womanstarts to cry, pleading that she didn't mean to do it, and I quickly rush over to the bed, pulling the curtain for privacy. Doc gives me a stern glare to stay back as the mother grips her child hard; her arms are around the child's neck, and the little girl’s lips are turn blue. There are tears running down her chubby cheeks as she claws at her momma’s hands.
My heart freezes as a man, who I am guessing is the dad, looks at his wife in horror as she screams and pleads for someone to hear her out.
I clear my throat and step in front of Doc, who growls, his hand going straight to my hip, gripping me tightly.
I give the woman a smile. She looks unhinged and, frankly, unwell. She reminds me of my mother.
"Please, I just need some-someone to listen—it was an accident, you know. I was hurt that her daddy missed our plans because their park date ran late, and he had to put her bike away. I didn't mean to shove her, I swear," she pleads.
"Oh God, Patricia, let our daughter go!" the man croaks brokenly and steps forward. I quickly shake my head as he looks my way, making his breathing escalate. He’s clearly feeling helpless.
I give the woman a gentle smile as I slowly grab Doc's hand, rubbing my thumb over it as I grip it and slip it from my hip. My eyes are on the little girl whose eyes are dimming. I somehow manage to remove his hand and step forward, causing him to growl again.
I soften my tone at the woman and say, "Accidents happen, we know this. You love your daughter, right?" She nods as tears fall, her hazel eyes dilating, and I swallow hard, wondering if she's on something. "I can see it. I can see the love you have for her and your family but, right now, your husband, he needs you." She furrows her brows. This woman reminds me a lot of my mother. Her daughter doesn't mean jack shit to her, but her husband means the world. She's tried using the same tactics my momma did, and yes, her husband is listening, but not for her sake. She looks his way to see his tears, and she gasps, quickly letting go of the little girl who slumps down on the bed, unconscious. I don't think, I rush to her and promptly check her pulse, only to panic when I don't feel one.
"Lucas, she doesn't have a pulse," I say loudly, not realizing I used his given name. I tilt the girl's head back and start compressions, my hands on her sternum as I press down roughly 5cm, doing 100 pushes per minute. I can hear her parents arguing and scuffling.
"How could you…she's not breathing…. Don't touch me…."The father shouts on and off.
"One, two, three, four, five, six…." I mutter as my hands move, while Doc quickly sets the machines up, and Becky, who could have prevented this, rushes in with a crash cart.
"Come on, little one," I rasp as I stop compressions for a second. Doc attaches the EKG to her chest. We wait, and nothing, no pulse. I curse and start compressions again as the machine speaks to us, telling us what to do.
"Please step away from the patient…." an automated voice from the monitor states, and I step back, lifting my hands as the machine shocks her body, and I hold my breath.
An hour later, I feel like I can't breathe as the door to the storage cupboard opens. I don't look up from where I'm sitting at the back wall, my knees bent, my arms hugging them, my forehead leaning on top, and my tears falling hard.
I hear a scuffle of shoes, and a sob escapes my mouth before a warm body slides down the wall next to me, a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders, before his forest scent hits me. I curl into him, my hand clutching his shirt as my face presses into his neck.
I cry, my body shaking, causing him to lift me onto his lap sideways, holding me tightly as his right hand undoes my bun, gently gripping my hair to hold me to him.
I sob, "She was-was four, Lucas,four!"
His grip tightens, his lips brushing against my forehead as he rasps, "I know, Pixie…. We tried baby, we tried everything, you tried everything. You didn't give up…."
I cry harder.
She was four, she is the first patient that I've lost, and she was four, a little girl with her whole life ahead of her. And it’s all gone because of a jealous mother. A part me knows that could have been me if my father had even cared for a split second, that little girl could have been me.
A little while later, my tears have slowed, my heart hurts, and I'm still sitting on Doc, not wanting to move. He's gently running his fingers into my hair.
"She was four…." I rasp. He skims a hand over my hair, and I tip my head back so he can look at me. He brings his other hand to my face and gently wipes my cheeks, sadness and pain showing in his gorgeous eyes, eyes I love to get lost in.
His gaze drifts over my face, and when I think he's going to speak, he leans forward and presses his lips against mine. My heart beats fast as my eyes slowly close, and before I know what I’m doing, I forget about everything, forget about Prue, and I kiss him back. His hold tightens on me, one hand in my hair, the other holding my cheek as he runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, and I willingly open.
Our breathing picks up as our kiss heats up, his tongue tangling with mine, his taste making me delirious.
Is this really happening?
My grip on his shirt tightens as he nips my bottom lip seductively, making my insides quiver and wetness pool in my panties, fireworks rushing through me.
He pulls away and looks at me with nothing but lust and…love? That can’t be right, can it?
