Page 30 of Falling for my First Crush

“Jackie Moretti from Maternity,” I say. “Just tell me where you need me to go.”

Zoe checks my name off her list, and looks around. “Can you check on the patients in the back hallway? We’re trying to get rooms to open up.”

“Sure thing,” I say, ducking behind the nurse’s station to ditch my purse.

I take a second to orient myself with the ER system. Clearly, it’s very different from what I work with on the maternity unit. They have more charting than we do, and it goes much more quickly. That’s fine. I’ll just do what I can and ask if I need help. I head toward what I assume is the back hallway. There are three people lying on stretchers.

I approach the first man. “Hi, Sir, have you been seen by a nurse yet?” I ask.

The man shakes his head slowly. He seems disoriented, and there’s an oozing wound on his forehead. My initial thought is that he probably has a concussion. “Okay,” I say. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I…I don’t remember that much,” he says in a halting voice. “There was an explosion, I’m pretty sure. Maybe something hit my head.”

I check him over, and add my observations to the clipboard hanging at the end of his bed. It’s an old-fashioned system, but in the case of this event, it makes sense. I doubt there will be much charting until later.

Time passes quickly, as I check over the other two patients. One has a broken wrist, and the woman on the last stretcher doesn’t have anything obvious wrong with her, so I write a recommendation for further testing.

When I get back to the nurse’s station, I pause for a moment while I assess where I can be the most useful. There is no sense in putting the info into the charting system until I have helped with more patients. I’m just not sure where to head next.

Before I can head out to see another patient, one of the other nurses comes back. She sinks down into a chair. “I just heard a rumor from one of my patients that there are several firefighters who have gotten hurt.”

“Oh?” I ask as I inhale a gasp of breath. My mind immediately turns to Joe. How can this be happening? He’s not at the fire, right? He has to be at dinner with Maia.

“Yeah,” the girl says. She shakes her head. “My boyfriend is a part-time firefighter. I’m so worried.”

I want to commiserate with her, but what can I even say? My childhood friend might be out there fighting the fire, or he might be on a date with my older sister. Neither of those things is going to make this girl feel any better. I can’t shake the feeling that I'm way more wrapped up in where Joe might be at the moment than I should be.

I never get the chance to respond to her, because there is a flurry of activity in the ambulance bay, and stretchers start coming in. Someone yells that these are the firefighters, and to clear a path for them. I find myself watching as each stretcher rolls past, and I’m relieved when I see that Joe isn’t among the firefighters coming in. Does that make me a horrible person?

Glancing back over at the nurse who told me about the firefighters, I can see that she looks relieved, too. Her boyfriend must not be among these guys either. She sags in the chair, and for a moment I worry that she might pass out. It can be hard to be a nurse. I feel the same way, although I’m not sure I have any right to. The Maternity ward is a whole different world than what these nurses and doctors deal with daily in the ER.

“I’m going to go see what I can help with,” I tell her. She just nods at me, and I know that she just needs to take another moment to breathe and calm her nerves.

I skirt around the edge of the nurse’s station and head toward the triage area, where they seem to be bringing most of the firefighters. There are five or six of them, but someone says that there are more coming in.

Pausing near one of the stretchers, I smile at the young guy lying back. “How are you doing?” I ask as I begin to take his vitals. That seems to be the best thing that I can do.

The guy, probably barely over twenty, gives me a weak smile. “I’ve been better,” he says. “This is my first week on the job.’

Hiding my shock at his words isn't easy, but I manage to slap a smile on my face. “Yikes,” I say. “So can you tell me what happened, and where you’re hurt?”

“Okay,” the guy says, nodding. “We got called out from Barley Ridge station, and we were supposed to be just back-up. But when we got to the site of the natural gas explosion, the fire had already started to spread. So we jumped in. A tree branch fell on me. I think it hit my shoulder, because that’s where it hurts.”

I nod and move to check his shoulder. Sure enough, it’s dislocated. I pat his hand, and say, “A doctor will be with you soon, and you’ll be fixed up in no time.”

Just as I am setting his chart down, the ER ambulance bay doors open again, and my attention is drawn toward a new wave of stretchers being brought in. To my horror, I see Joe coming in on one of the first ones. Just seeing him being brought in makes my brain short circuit, and I don’t think that I’m thinking straight. The only thing that I know is that I need to be the one to take care of him.

“Joe, are you okay?” I demand, as I approach his bedside. “You were supposed to be safe at dinner with Maia.”

Joe laughs, and I realize how nice of a laugh he has. It surprises me how much I like his laugh. “I’m fine,” he says. “It’s just a minor burn.”

He holds out his hand for me to see. I peel back the temporary bandage, and as soon as I see the angry red gash on his skin, my eyes fill with tears. They trickle down my cheeks, and I’m surprised by my reaction. Joe seems to be surprised as well. He reaches up with his other hand to wipe the tears away from my cheek.

“I’m okay, Jackie. Really. I’ve had worse injuries in the line of duty. I promise,” he says.

I look up at him, and something passes between us. I’ve felt like this before, recently with Joe… the night we were painting. Well, supposed to be painting. Staring at him now, I’m filled with the sudden, paralyzing realization that my heart is swelling with an emotion I don’t know if I can bear to acknowledge.

Eighteen

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