Page 64 of Halo

The patient glances up at me. “Th-thank you, Dr. D-Dimples.”

“You are more than welcome, sweetie.”

“Oh good grief …” Tatum snorts, rolling her eyes. “Get some rest, mama. That pain medicine can make you really groggy.”

I ignore Tatum and step closer. Leaning on the handrail of the stretcher, I flash the patient a bright smile. “Now if you need anything else—anything at all—you let these sweet nurses know, and they'll call me.”

“I need something for my nausea,” Tatum mumbles before grabbing the patient's chart and leaving the PACU.

I finish up with the patient, clarify some orders with the recovery nurse before I catch up to Tatum in the hallway. “Whew, that was unexpected.”

“Which part?” She smirks. “Flirting with the patient or the patient flirting back?”

“I said unexpected, blondie.”

She abruptly stops and glares at me for a beat before chuckling and pushing past me. “What are you even doing here anyway? I thought you'd be doing Halloween with Grady.”

I groan. “The on-call schedule was already out, and I couldn't get anyone to take my midday shift. Plus, Halloween is Tiffany’s ‘thing.’” I air-quote the word. “She insisted on taking Grady trick-or-treating.”

Tatum looks at her watch. “You only have two hours left. You could still make it if—”

I wave her off. “Maybe, but not likely. It's fine, and Grady isn't expecting me anyway.”

“What's his costume?”

A grin spreads across my face. “A dancing dinosaur.”

Tatum raises an eyebrow. “As in Barney the dinosaur?”

I chuckle. “No, he specifically wanted to be a dinosaur … who dances.”

“And how do you do that?”

I shrug. “I got him a dinosaur costume. And I told him to dance.”

“Look at you. Dimples and creativity.”

I spread my arms wide. “What can I say?”

Our laughter is interrupted by her pager. She glances at it and huffs. “Time to get serious. I've got a patient in triage.” She reaches into her white coat and pulls out a headband with animal ears. After slipping it into her hair, she takes off down the hallway. “See you later, Crawford.”

“Hey, wait … what are you supposed to be?”

She twirls around, pointing to her costume ears. “I'm a mouse. Duh.” Laughing, she turns back around and leaves.

Shaking my head, I mosey back toward my recovery patient when my phone chirps. Seeing that it's Tiffany, I answer.

“Hey, is Grady all set?”

“Nick, hi …” Her voice is low and raspy. “Listen, about tonight ... I, um... I don't think I can do tonight.”

“What?” I glance down the corridor at a large window. “But the sun is about to set. Y'all are supposed to be heading out soon—”

“I know.” She sniffles. “I'm feeling terrible. I'm, uh … I'm sick or … something.”

“You sound awful.”

She gives a weak laugh that quickly dissolves into a cough. “I feel awful.”