Page 15 of Burn Falls
“It’s in the carrot family, but looks like fennel or cumin seeds. It actually has a liquorice flavor.”
“Really?” I smiled, still having no clue. Plus, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a carrot or liquorice.
“Family recipe.”
My gaze trailed down her soft curves, noting the swell of her breasts. What was it about Calla that made it hard to resist her? I hadn’t had those feelings since Mary, and then it was only because I was a horny twenty-four-year-old. Over the years, I’d had my needs met, but there had been nothing to spark my un-beating heart.
But now …
Now I wanted to know everything there was about Calla O’Bannion.
She tilted her head toward me. “Do you come here a lot? I figure you see a lot of bad things in your line of work.”
“I come here from time to time. Not often.”
“How do you manage it then? The bad news. Having to tell families that their relatives have died, or are seriously injured. Do you get immune to it?”
My brows creased at her quick turn of questioning.
“Forget I asked that.”
“No. You want to know. I’ll answer.” I took another sip. “When patients arrive, I’m given their injury and then my focus is on their body. They aren’t a person to me at that point, more of a machine that needs to be fixed. Then once I step back from the table, I become all too aware of how human they are, especially when I meet their families. I feel a loss if we lose a patient, a sadness if someone has to live the rest of their life with a disability. That’s why you’ll find us in here occasionally, some of us more often than others.” I gestured to the people who sat around chatting and laughing. “We have to let loose somehow, or the job will break us. I live an hour away, so I typically go home before I have a stiff drink.” I needed to get home before the sun rose.
She smiled tightly. “I understand needing the alcohol to forget. And thank you for reassuring me that my father’s in good hands.”
I reached out and touched her arm again. “There’s not much more we can do at this point. It’s your father’s body that needs to make the decision for him,” I lied. I hated lying to her, but that was all I could do at this point.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you and your family that the first seventy-two hours are the most crucial?”
She nodded. “Right. It’s been longer than seventy-two hours now.”
“Just barely, but yes, we would have hoped to see some signs of improvement now so we could start to lessen the anesthesia.” We sipped our whiskey in silence, and I wished I could compel all of her hurt away, make her immune to the sadness that I knew was coming her way. “Let me give you my number in case you need me tomorrow before I arrive back at the hospital.” I took out a business card from my wallet, wrote my cell on the back with the pen sitting on the bar, and slid the card over to her. “Call me anytime.”
“Thank you. Is it wrong that I’m enjoying sitting here talking to you while my father lies fighting for his life across the street?”
“No, Calla. It’s not wrong to live your life.”
She slid her glass away from her as though it was about to bite her. “I shouldn’t be drinking. What if he needs me?”
I understood her fear and the fact she kept worrying about abandoning her father, but she wasn’t. There was nothing for her to do. “Trust me. There are plenty of doctors and nurses on duty if anything were to happen to him or there’s a change.”
We were silent again as we consumed our whiskeys.
“Are you married?” Calla blurted.
I looked over at her and smirked. “No, I’m not. Are you?”
She sighed, and it was then that I realized the alcohol was finally working. “My mother said that no man will want me if I’m overweight, and look at me,” she gestured to herself, “I’m a heifer.”
I turned my body back toward her and placed my hand on her knee. “Iamlooking at you. I haven’t been able to stop since we met four days ago.”
“Draven,” Calla muttered. “You don’t need to tell me what you think I want to hear.”
“I’m not. I’m telling you the truth.”
She stared into my dark eyes. “Are you flirting with me?”
