Page 28 of No Greater Love
Tasha's step faltered, almost imperceptible. Her spine straightened, shoulders squaring. But she kept walking, kept her composure, kept her dignity.
Something hot and dangerous uncoiled in my chest.
The anger wasn't new. It’s always there, banked low like embers, waiting for oxygen. What was new was its sudden, overwhelming intensity. The roaring in my ears. The taste of metal in my mouth.
Before I registered moving, I was across the room, my pen clattering forgotten on the counter. All I could see was Jensen’s smug, hateful face and Tasha, standing there, taking it, because that’s what she had to do.
But I wasn’t going to.
My voice, when it came, wasn’t my own. It was deeper, harder, a sound dredged up from a place I kept locked down tight. The voice that had called cadence for miles on the tarmac of Naval Training Center Great Lakes. The one that could make recruits piss their pants at fifty yards.
“YOU WILLNOTSPEAK TO HER LIKE THAT!"
The ER went dead silent. I felt, more than saw, heads turn. Jensen, startled, actually recoiled. Then his pasty face mottled with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are? You can't talk to me like that! I'm a patient! I'll have your job! I'll sue this whole damn hospital!"
I was moving before I realized it, a straight line from the nurse's station to Bay 4. The rage was a living thing now, coiling in my gut, demanding release. My voice dropped, but it was the low growl of a cornered animal. I almost threw my arm, finger pointed angrily, towards the doors marked EXIT at the far end of the hallway.
"YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT!"
"I'll have you arrested! Assault! You're threatening me!" Jensen shrieked, scrambling back on the gurney.
A cold calm settled over me then, the kind that always came before the storm in the sandbox. My vision narrowed. "Try me," I said, and the words were flat, devoid of heat, which somehow made them more dangerous. "I wouldloveto explain to the District Attorneyexactlywhy I felt the need to remove a threat from this ER. I'd relish detailing every single word, you?—"
"ENOUGH!"
Sophia's voice. Sharp. Absolute. It sliced through my rage like a scalpel. I froze, my retort dying on my lips. She was standing at the entrance to the bay, and her eyes weren't on Jensen. They were onme. And they were radiating an authority that even in my current state, I couldn't ignore.
"OUT! Nate, hallway.Now!"
The command was a physical blow.Me?Out? Confusion warred with the receding tide of adrenaline. I wanted to argue, to explain, but one look at her face—the unwavering steel in her eyes—and I knew. I was seconds from crossing a line. A very bright, very final line.
She didn't wait. She turned to Jensen, who was looking smug. "Andyou.Youwill leave." Her voice was ice. "Dr. Lee," she called, her tone sharp, "is Mr. Jensen medically stable for discharge?"
Dr. Lee, bless his usually oblivious soul, was already at the bedside. His face was granite, all traces of his usual charm gone. "Patient presented with a minor abrasion, received irrigation and a dressing. Vitals stable. No indication for further acute medical intervention. He's clear for discharge."
"You heard the doctor," Sophia said to Jensen. "Your treatment here is complete. Security will escort you to the exit. I am personally filing a trespass order. If you ever set foot on hospital property again for anything less than a life-threatening emergency, you will be arrested. Am I clear?"
Jensen sputtered, but the fight was gone. Security, who'd materialized like ghosts, flanked him. I watched him go, then Sophia turned back to me. Tasha was a pale shadow behind her, her eyes wide, fixed on me.
"My office, Nate.Now."
I followed her, the walk down the hall feeling like a mile. The adrenaline had leached away, leaving a bone-deep weariness and the cold dread of what was coming.
In her office, the door closed, and the small space felt suffocating. I didn't know what to do with my hands, my body. Instinct took over. Heels together. Back straight. Arms locked, thumbs on the seams of my scrubs. Eyes front. The familiar brace of military attention.
Sophia’s voice was quiet, but it cut deeper than any shout. “Nate. You're not in the Navy anymore. You can't hide behind that bearing. Not here.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, I forced my gaze to meet hers. The disappointment in her eyes was worse than anger.
“They pay me an extra dollar an hour to kick out racists,” she said, her voice low. “That’s my job. Yours is to take care of patients. Even the assholes.” She took a step closer, almost in my face. "You weresecondsaway from putting your hands on him, Nate.Seconds. And then what? You go to jail? Maybe. You lose your license? Possibly. You lose your job here?Guaranteed." Her voice softened, but the words were like hammer blows. "What about Paige? What happens to her when her father is in jail or can't work?"
Paige. The name was a punch to the gut. My carefully constructed world, the one I’d built to protect her, was teetering. Because of me. Because I’d lost control.
“When you blow up like that,” Sophia continued, her voice regaining its edge, “youbecome the story. The headline won’t be, ‘Racist Patient Verbally Abuses Nurse.’ It’ll be, ‘ER Nurse Assaults Patient.’ And we won’t get to say he was spewing vile hate. Because we’re not allowed to. HIPAA doesn’t give a damn about justice; it cares about patient privacy, even for the ones who deserve none.”
