Page 98 of Tangled Up

“This facility is too small.” My voice is tight as we burst through the double doors of the ER at the small Critical Access Hospital.

There’s no trauma team, no surgeon, no specialists. I lift a clipboard off the wall and see only one general practitioner on duty. Another is on call.

“We don’t have time to get to the bigger hospital. She’s lost too much blood.” Henry is at my side, and my stomach drops. “You’ve got to stabilize her here.”

“I can’t…” The words die on my lips.

Doctors are never asked to treat close family members. They’re too emotionally involved, they lack objectivity. Only, Carly’s not my family—yet.

“Do you want to take Alize? Let the other doctor treat Carly?” Henry studies me.

“No.” I can’t take a chance with my girl, and the idea of Alize Willis’s life being in my hands is like a sinister test.

“Then you have to do this now.”

EMS was on the scene within minutes, almost like they’d been called before the accident even occurred. I slammed the Rover into park and the three of us were out, running to the overturned car.

Police officers caught Henry and me, holding us back. My eyes were fixed on the crumpled black spaces where the windows should have been, but I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t see anything. The car was almost completely flat as they pried the doors open with a crowbar.

I struggled against the big guy holding me back, but we were pretty evenly matched. If they’d sent a smaller cop to detain me, he wouldn’t have been successful.

Instead, we had to watch helpless and dying as they eased the two women out of the wreckage and strapped them to gurneys. Neck braces were placed, and they were hustled into the ambulance.

The only news we were given was they were alive.

Kevin took the wheel, driving us to the small facility, and now Henry and I are standing at the nurse’s station.

A few nurses and orderlies surround Carly in one of the two small areas used for treatment, and my head is pounding.

Henry puts his hand on my shoulder. “You can do this, Beck. You can take care of her for us. I know you can.”

The one other doctor rushes up to the desk, grabbing the clipboards and quickly scanning the damage. Stepping up, I take out my wallet.

“Beck Munroe.” I show him my medical ID card. “I work in internal medicine at Bayside Regional in Tampa. I’ve got experience in trauma.”

The man looks up at me, and relief washes over his face. “Nice to meet you, Doc. I’ve got an extra pair of scrubs in the locker if you want to scrub in.”

Minutes later, I’m standing at Carly’s bedside, surrounded by beeping monitors, doing my best to steady my breathing. The nurses have started IV fluids, and she appears stable. Still, her eyes are closed, and her face is completely still and pale.

The thought she might die freezes the oxygen in my lungs. My vision clouds, and I take a step back. I don’t have time to panic. Carly needs me, and Henry’s counting on me.

Bracing my hand against the wall, I close my eyes and inhale slowly.

Exhale.

One more time.

I focus my mind on my training. Years have passed since I was in this situation with Tyler, and this time, I have a chance to make it right.

One more breath, and drawing on years of practice and muscle memory, I lock into professional mode. “Where do we stand?”

The nurse steps forward. “I’ve administered 500 ccs of saline. I’ve cleared the airway, so she’s breathing on her own. No broken bones detected, but her blood count is low. Obvious head trauma. She’s not responding to stimuli.”

“We need a scan to detect brain swellingstat. Any signs of internal bleeding?”

“I’ve examined her torso. No bruising.” The nurse’s eyes are wide when she looks up at me. “We have a CT scanner, but our radiologist is an hour away.”

“Call them now. We need to get her in there and get her started on a unit of platelets.” The woman leaves the space where we’re standing behind a curtain.

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