Page 6 of Flame's Fight

“Hello, Mrs. Barnes. How are you doing?” Brooke says, drawing my attention away from my mom.

Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. Scrubs are functional, but on Brooke, they’re also sexy as hell. Dammit.

“Brooke! It’s good to see you. What torture do you have in store for my son today?” She asks, and it’s then I notice she’s carrying a tray.

“He needs his dressings changed.” She says, grinning at my mom after giving me a quick glance. She places the tray on the table behind me. When I feel her touch me, I can’t take it any longer.

“Not you.” I grit out.

“What?” she and my mom ask.

“I don’t want you touching me. Get someone else to do it.”

I hear my mom gasp and I can see the look of disappointment on her face, but I don’t care. I can’t have Brooke touching me. It hurts too much.

“I’ll get someone else.” Brooke says and I feel her backing away. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

I glance over to see a furious cop at my door. Well, fuck, this day just keeps getting better and better.

CHAPTER FOUR: BROOKE

The pain and anger in Flame’s tone when he orders me out of the room slices through me. I force myself to remain professional, but it’s hard. I want to break down and beg him to forgive me, even as I know his staying mad at me is the best thing for him. Gina will take care of Flame. That’s the best solution.

Turning, I spot my dad and I know by the anger on his face that heard Flame. Damn. I never wanted my dad to know how badly I screwed up. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

“I need to interview Mr. Barnes about the shooting. The hospital informed me he was awake and responsive.” My dad says, his eyes moving from me to Flame.

I debate staying and playing interference, but I know I’ll only make things worse. Stepping into the hall, I go in search of Gina.

I find her chatting with her boyfriend, Curt. He’s a security guard in the hospital and they’ve been dating for several months. I admit he’s very attractive, in a quarterback-of-the-football-team kind of way, but he does nothing for me. I prefer my men rugged with a slight edge to them. Like Flame.

“I thought you dumped him?” I ask my co-worker, who giggles when Curt sends me a glare.

“Don’t give her any ideas.” Curt complains, and I laugh, shaking my head. Those two are so much in love that it hurts to look at them. Which reminds me of why I’m looking for Gina.

“Can you handle the patient in ICU 2?” I ask her. She nods, but when her eyebrows rise, I know she’s remembered who is in that room. “He asked for a different nurse.” I tell her so she doesn’t have to ask.

“Why?” Curt asks me. “What did you do?”

“He’s my ex.” I tell him. Curt nods his head in understanding.

“I’ll take care of him.” Gina assures me. “Would you mind taking the guy in room 215? I was just heading there.”

“Not a problem.” I assure her and head upstairs.

I enter room 215 to find the patient sitting up in bed talking with his two guests. I smile at the patient before glancing at the others. One is a stunning woman about my age. She’s wearing light sweats and a tank top. She has curves, but her arm definition and tiny waist tell me she’s fit. I smile at her before glancing at the other person in the room. The look he sends me has my smile slipping. Ever see a guy look at you like you’re nothing but a hole to fill? Yeah, it was that kind of look. I repress a shudder and turn my attention back to my patient.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones. How are you feeling today?” I ask him as I remove the bandage on his upper thigh.

“Good. Doc said I’d be able to go home in a day or so. Not that it hasn’t been fun.” He says with a grin. “But it hasn’t.”

I laugh and nod as I clean the wound and the surrounding area. I knew the person who shot him was the same one who shot Flame. “How is your pain level?” I ask as I replace the dressing.

“I’d say a four.” He says. I can tell by the paleness under his dark skin and the tightness around his eyes that he’s lying. Either for the benefit of the hot chick or the guy, I’m not sure. I check the IV and see that he’s hardly used any of the morphine. Picking up the controller, I press the button to allow some of the morphine to feed into his system.

“This is your PCA. If you feel pain, press the button here. Don’t worry, the system won’t let you abuse the med. You need to make sure you stay on top of the pain. It will help you heal faster so you can get out of here sooner.”

He grins at me. “Thanks, Nurse. Wagstaffe.” He adds, looking at my ID. “That name sounds familiar.” Deion muses.

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