Page 2 of Elf-ish

“I’ll be right behind the ambulance,” she eventually states.

“No,” Jude grunts, a little too strongly. He closes his eyes and rolls his head on the pillow. He doesn’t want her to follow him.

Maddix and I meet eyes only briefly, speaking a silent conversation we’ve mastered after years of being partners. Then, we hastily get to work administering oxygen, which our patient sluggishly attempts to remove while shaking his head back and forth in agitation.

“Sir, I need you to remain calm.” Yet I understand the oxygen mask can cause feelings of claustrophobia in some patients, and the last thing I want is to further exacerbate his panic.

With the oxygen mask eventually over his mouth and nose, any additional grumblings are muffled.

Next, heart monitors are placed on his chest. I typically don’t notice the physical features of a patient. The human body is an incredible machine, and I’ve been conditioned to remove salacious thoughts about the flesh and bones making up a person.

But the beauty of Jude cannot be denied. Ripped abs. Smooth pecs. That side tattoo. And a smattering of hair on his chest. Not to mention a trail of darkness that leads below his dipping suit pants.

“You might have some drool there, Angie,” Maddix quietly mocks me, despite the severity of our position, which is wheeling a patient to the elevator bank.

“Shut up.”

Once locked and loaded in the ambulance, the lights flash, but the siren doesn’t blare, as the noise can increase the anxiety of patients within the back.

I sit in the back with Jude on a stretcher while Maddix drives the rig. Raising his voice because of our proximity to each other, Maddix picks up on a conversation we’d been having when the original call came through.

“So, you still don’t have a date?”

“Now isn’t the time for this,” I groan, checking Jude’s vitals, when his eyes open quickly before closing again. His coloring still isn’t right. He’s more putrid-green than ashen. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen this shade on someone’s skin, but there’s always a first.

“I told ya, I’d go with ya,” Maddix continues, skillfully maneuvering the ambulance through the day after Thanksgiving, early-morning traffic in downtown Chicago.

“And I told you thanks but no thanks.” Genuine gratitude mingles with my rejection.

Trey Maddix is a great guy and hot in the way best friends are not. He’s good-looking to a multitude of women, which makes him physically unattractive to me. He’s my friend, honest and true, and generously offering to ease my suffering.

My younger brother is getting married in a few weeks during the holiday season.

Santa, stab me with a peppermint stick.

I love Christmas, but I don’t have time for a family wedding, especially when the announcement triggered my well-meaning grandmother and great aunt to ask when I’m getting married. Why don’t I have a fella, or a baby, or three, while at the same time, preaching independence for women and keeping your man in line. I can’t keep up.

It isn’t that I don’t want marriage or babies. It just hasn’t happened for me. I haven’t experienced that all-consuming, can’t-live-without-you feeling that leads to happily-ever-after and babies in a carriage. The kind of love my parents had.

I swallow thickly at the brief thought of my parents and return to the business at hand.

As the heart monitor begins to erratically beat, a wave of panic sets in for me. That niggling sensation I have within me right before things go bad.

And my patient crashes.

“Shit.” On automatic, I react, ripping the oxygen mask off his mouth and start chest compressions, then check for his breath. Repeating the motions one more time, I’m prepared to reach for the defibrillator if I can’t revive him after my next compression pass.

Leaning over Jude, I lower inches from his face, determined to save him.

“Don’t you leave me, Jude.”

My jaw is clenched while the words aren’t anything more than a whisper. A desperate plea.

With another series of rhythmic pressure against his firm chest, Jude gasps.

Relief instantly fills me.

His eyes fling open, wild and icy. The coolest blue I’ve ever seen latches onto mine. While I often find tear-filled appreciation in a gaze, these eyes are like icicles, sharp and pointed, and glaring at me like saving his life was the devil’s work instead of an angelic calling. A certain something deep within me that likes to help others.