Page 34 of Doctor One Night

“Someone get me a towel or a jacket,” I call out, and a man immediately steps forward, handing me his jacket. I roll it up and carefully place it under Carly’s head, trying to minimize any movement. Her breathing is still shallow, but at least she’s breathing.

“Stay with me, Carly,” I murmur, glancing down at her face, so unlike the vibrant, peppy nurse I see at the hospital. Her energy is usually infectious, a bright light in the often dark and sterile halls of the OR. Seeing her like this, so fragile, feels wrong on every level.

The sirens are louder now, getting closer, giving me a small measure of relief. But I know we’re not out of the woods yet. There’s still so much that could go wrong.

The crowd is still murmuring around us, but I tune them out, my focus entirely on Carly. “You’re going to be okay,” I tell her, more for myself than for her. “Just hang on a little longer.”

Finally, the paramedics arrive, their blue and white uniforms a welcome sight. I quickly relay what I know, stepping back just enough to let them work but staying close, ready to assist if needed. They move with the same urgency I felt, carefully loading Carly onto a stretcher, securing her neck to prevent any further injury.

As they lift her into the ambulance, one paramedic looks at me. “You coming with us, Doc?”

I hesitate for a split second before nodding. “Yeah, I’m coming.” I climb into the back of the ambulance, settling beside Carly as the doors close behind me.

The siren blares, and the vehicle lurches forward, speeding through the city streets toward the hospital. I keep my eyes on Carly, watching her every breath, every slight movement, ready to act at a moment’s notice.

But as I sit there, I can’t shake the image of her lying there on the pavement, so small and helpless. And I can’t help but take on the weight of responsibility to make sure she gets through this.

“Stay with me, Carly,” I whisper, more determined than ever. “You’re not going anywhere.”

The ambulance races through the city streets, its sirens cutting through the night. Inside, the paramedics work quickly, assessing Carly’s condition with the same urgency I felt when I first saw her on the pavement. Her injuries, while serious, don’t seem to be immediately life-threatening, but we’re not taking any chances.

“She’s stable for now,” one paramedic says, his voice calm but focused. “Pulse is steady, blood pressure’s a bit low but holding. Looks like she might have a concussion, possible fracture in the clavicle, and some bruising on the ribs. No signs of internal bleeding so far, but you’ll want to confirm with imaging.”

I nod, my eyes never leaving Carly. The sluggish pupil’s response still worries me, but at least her vitals are stable. “We need to get a CT scan as soon as we arrive,” I say. “Let’s rule out any intracranial hemorrhage. And check for any fractures in the cervical spine, just to be safe.”

The paramedic nods in agreement, making notes as the ambulance sways with the motion of the road. Carly stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before closing again. It’s a good sign—she’s responsive, even if it’s only marginal.

“We’ll need to keep her neck immobilized until we can rule out spinal injury,” the paramedic adds, adjusting the brace around her neck. “Once we get her to the ER, we’ll run the full trauma protocol.”

A wave of relief washes over me, but I know we’re not out of the woods yet. Head injuries can be tricky, and we won’t know the full extent of the damage until we get those scans. But for now, Carly’s stable, and that’s something.

The ambulance pulls into the hospital bay, and the paramedics move swiftly, transferring Carly from the ambulance to a gurney with practiced efficiency. I stay close, my hands hovering near her as they wheel her into the ER, ready to step in if needed.

As we move through the bustling corridors, the familiar sights and sounds of the hospital fill the air—doctors and nurses rushing by, the beep of monitors, the low hum of conversations. But all of that fades into the background as we push through the double doors and into the trauma bay.

“CT scan, stat,” I call out to the nearest nurse as we position Carly under the bright overhead lights. “Let’s get a full workup—head, neck, chest. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

The team responds immediately, moving with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience. I step back slightly, giving them space to work but staying close enough to monitor the situation.

Carly stirs again, her eyes opening for real this time. She blinks up at the ceiling, her gaze unfocused before it finally lands on me. “Hunter?” she murmurs, her voice weak but unmistakable.

I lean in closer, my heart easing at the sound of her voice. “I’m here, Carly. You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident, but you’re going to be okay.”

She frowns slightly, wincing as she tries to move her head. “Accident…?” she echoes, her confusion evident.

“Yeah, a car hit you,” I explain gently, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “But you’re going to be fine. We’re just running some tests to make sure everything’s okay.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and she lets out a shaky breath. “It happened so fast… I didn’t even see it coming.”

I squeeze her arm, my voice softening. “You’re safe now, Carly. We’re going to take care of you. I'm going to stay with you until we know what is going on. Is there someone I can call to let them know you're here?”

She nods weakly, her tears spilling over as she tries to process what happened. “Will you please call Frankie Renna for me?”

“Of course,” I say, leaning in closer. “I'll call her right now.”

“Thank you.”

The mention of Frankie sends a jolt through me, but I quickly push it aside. This isn’t about me—it’s about Carly. “I’ll call her right now,” I promise, reaching for my phone.

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