Page 95 of Undeniably Enemies

“If the patient is allergic to penicillin, what else would you have prescribed?” Daffy asks.

“Cephalosporins or macrolide antibiotics.”

“And if their reaction to penicillin is hives or anaphylaxis? What then?”

“I’d likely avoid cephalosporins due to concern for cross-sensitivity and go straight to macrolides like azithromycin.”

“Good! Nice job.” She pats my shoulder like I’m a dog. “You’ve obviously been doing your studying. You’re going to be an all-star here.” She beams at that, but there’s something else behind it, and I’ve seen it a lot lately. Especially when we’re not doing pediatrics or fast-tracks.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Why are you in the ER? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, so I hope you don’t take it that way. I love the ER, and I hope to match here. But you’re just so good with kids and fast-tracks and seem not to like much else.”

She gives me a sad smile, and her eyes cloud over. “My dad is an ER doctor, and he wanted a son. When I came out a girl, I was a disappointment from the start. I wanted pediatrics, buthe told me that was a weak specialty. I chose the ER to make him proud and hopefully earn some respect.”

Hell. “Do you regret it?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes. The doctors and nurses here are great, and everyone pretty much lets me do fast-tracks and pediatrics, so that’s been good. But yeah, sometimes I wish I had chosen for me and not for him. Why do you want the ER?”

“Because a little more than two years ago, I was wheeled in here on a gurney, and Callan, Layla, and Margot saved my life. I just want to return the favor.”

She blinks at me, stunned. “I had no idea.”

“No one does except for my immediate family, but it’s not something we talk about regularly. Still, for me it feels like a calling.”

She gets my meaning quickly. “You really think I’d be a great pediatrician?”

“Daffy, I think you’d be an incredible pediatrician. My best friend Tinsley’s mom is one, and let me tell you, she’s fucking badass. Nothing weak about her.”

She laughs. “I still can’t believe you’re best friends with Tinsley Monroe.”

“She’s the best, but she’d never make it in pediatrics.”

A soft smile hits her lips, but before she can respond, Jack rounds the corner and calls our attention.

“Daffodil, we’ve got two traumas coming in. Blunt force trauma for both,” Jack barks at us as he determinedly marches down the hall, all business. “Gown and glove up. We need extra hands.”

“Of course, Dr. Kincaid.” Daffy waves at him with a smile, her face flushing redder than I’ve ever seen it. She doesn’t even care that he calls her Daffodil when the rest of the world calls her Daffy. “Whatever you need from me, I’m here for.”

Poor girl. He doesn’t even hear her. He’s already getting himself ready and doesn’t spare her a second glance. Shewatches him for a moment longer before she clears her throat and turns to me.

“Come on. Let’s go get ready. Blunt force trauma can mean a lot of things, but often they require a lot of fast-moving parts. Last day in the ER, you should end it with a trauma.”

“Damn right,” I exclaim and follow her down the hall. We grab yellow paper gowns that we tie in the back and don our blue gloves, waiting for the traumas to roll in. A thrum of excitement and nerves rockets through my veins as I enter the trauma room. The nurses are getting things set up, and I find a spot in the back.

One of the nurses spots me. “Just remember to breathe through your nose and bend your knees. Blunt force traumas can be rough.”

“Thank you,” I say to her, following her instructions.

“Hey!” Callan greets me as he walks in. “Last day.”

“Last day.”

“But hopefully not for long.” He tosses me a wink just as Jack walks in, surveying the room to make sure it’s all set.

He spots me and frowns. “Where’s Daffy?”

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