Page 46 of Night Shift

Once he was gone, the tension in the air evaporated, but the confusion and unspoken words lingered. There was a lot hiding beneath Dr. Thorin’s cool exterior, but I had no way to understand what it was.

I was thrilled at the thought of going to the gala with Conan, especially given Atticus’s jealous reaction. But I also wanted to figure out what exactly was going on between the brothers.

“He seemed totally annoyed,” I said, chewing on my thumbnail, a nervous habit I’d had since I could remember.

“Who knows? Hey, don’t worry about Atticus,” Conan said gently. “He’ll get over it—eventually. Besides, you deserve someone who treats you right.”

I nodded, appreciating his reassurance. “Thanks, Conan. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

“Sorry about ruining your coat. You know we’re taught not to disturb the site of an injury any more than necessary. Let’s get what’s left of it off you. I’ve got a sweatshirt in my locker that you can have.” Conan helped me lean forward, then slid the remains of my coat off.

Moments later, two police officers entered the room. “Ms. Sheridan, we’d like to take your statement regarding the attack,” one of them said, pulling out a notepad.

“Uh, sure,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling very exposed. The worry of why two men in ski masks would have tried to kidnap me came rushing to the forefront of my thoughts. “Did you capture them?”

“No, sadly they got away before we arrived,” the officer said.

“Is there anyone who might want to harm you?” the other asked, studying me intently.

My mind raced to the one person who might have something to do with it—my father. The thought made my chest tighten, and I struggled to find the words to explain. The situation was embarrassing enough without having to talk about it in front of Conan.

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered. My breath started coming in quick gasps as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hey, maybe give her a moment to calm down?” Conan suggested gently, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder.

“Of course,” the officer agreed, taking a step back. “Take your time.”

I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing and trying to slow down my racing thoughts. Conan’s hand remained on my shoulder, a soothing presence amid my internal chaos.

After a few minutes, I took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and looked at the police officers, ready to tell them what little I knew about my father’s possible involvement in the attack.

“The only person who’s ever given me any trouble is…well, my father. A while back, just after I started working here, he—”

My breath hitched, and my throat closed up. Suddenly, the panic attack swelled, and I became dizzy. My body trembled as the blood rushed out of my head.

Conan’s eyes filled with concern. “Hang on, Sam. I’ll be right back,” he said gently before rushing out of the room.

“Please, just breathe,” I whispered to myself, trying to regain some control over the situation. But my chest tightened, and my vision blurred as fear and anxiety started to consume me.

Moments later, Conan returned. “I asked a nurse to go find Atticus. He’ll help take care of your breathing.”

I tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of Conan’s chest as he stood beside me, holding my hand. Soon, Atticus burst into the room, his face tight with concern. He quickly assessed the situation. “Samantha, I’m going to give you a fast-acting medication to help calm you down.” Nodding, I watched as he prepared a syringe with lorazepam, a sedative known for its efficacy in treating acute anxiety. “It should help relax you and help with any pain you’re experiencing.”

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper.

“Small pinch,” he warned gently before administering the injection in my arm. The medication worked swiftly, and within minutes, the crushing weight of the panic attack began to lift. To aid my breathing, Atticus placed an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth, then instructed me to take slow, deep breaths.

“Better?” he asked. This was the side of him I liked so much, and it tugged at my heartstrings. I wished he would acknowledge what had happened between us, but that seemed unlikely now.

“Y-yes.” The medicine and oxygen were working their magic. My heart rate slowed, and the fog of panic lifted.

Atticus gave me a small, reassuring smile before stepping back. “All right, how about you give the police your statement now?” He gestured for the officers to reenter the room, and they approached cautiously.

Feeling more in control, I pulled the oxygen mask away from my face.

“Are you all right now?” one officer asked, genuine concern in her eyes.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound confident even though I was anything but. “I’m ready to continue.”

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