Page 103 of Life To My Flight

Trance and Loki were looking thoughtful, as was Torren.

“Okay, well Silas, since you’re closest to Dortea, how about you bring that up with her and see what she thinks. She already knows about the threats, but maybe she’ll see a flaw in it where we don’t,” I offered.

Silas nodded. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll head out, then. I’ll let you know what she has to say in the morning, okay?”

I nodded, and the lot of them dispersed one by one, all offering a handshake before they rumbled off into the night.

I was only left with one question.

Would it work?

Only one way to find out.

Chapter 19

I would do Christian Grey-ish things to you.

-Text from Rue to Cleo

Rue

“Guess who’s coming in?” Cleo said over the phone the next morning.

I looked over the chart that was in front of me and said, “Hmm?” distractedly.

“The boys,” his deep voice rumbled, making the cold knot in my belly warm slightly.

“That’s great. When and what time?” I asked.

Good thing I had the whole weekend off.

“This weekend is the bike rally in Jefferson,” he continued; however, my mind stayed on the patient’s chart who’d signed a DNR because she wanted to die with dignity.

She was a twenty nine year old mother of four young children with stage four breast cancer.

She’d contracted the flu, and her immune system was nearly nonexistent.

She was having trouble breathing, and was refusing even the basic of medical interventions, including oxygen.

It was only a matter of time, unfortunately.

It just broke my heart that she was having to go through this and her family was having to witness it.

“You there, baby?” Cleo rasped.

I closed my eyes and envisioned his arms around me. “Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a bad day.”

He chuckled lightly. “It’s only been less than an hour.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I know.”

“Hey, Rue. You have a patient in four that’s on the call light for the fifth time.” Johnathan, one of the two male nurses that worked in the ER during my shift, said.

Johnathan was pretty awesome.

He reminded me of Stone Cold Steve Austin, the wrestler who’d been my idol growing up.

He had a shaved head, big, beefy biceps, and a temper that could rival a psychopath when it called for it.

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