by Devney Perry
Milo was handsome. And given that he was my patient, that thought was completely inappropriate. I tore my eyes from his face and concentrated on getting a pair of latex gloves from the box on the wall.
I’d never found a patient handsome before. Surely that had happened to other nurses in their careers though. I could ignore it. I certainly wasn’t going to act on it. Should I leave? Trade rooms with Kym?
I dismissed the idea. This was nothing. So what if I thought Milo Phillips' lips were the perfect shade of pale pink? I could admire them and still be a professional. I could still treat his burns.
I stretched on my gloves and went to Milo’s side. Then I ripped open a pack of sterile gauze. I opened my mouth to explain to Milo what I was about to do, but the words got lost when I met his gaze.
Milo’s coffee-colored eyes were open and locked on me.
All dreariness was gone, his irises clear and focused. The ring of brown was lighter around his pupils, deepening into a brown so dark it was nearly black at the outer edge. Some might call them muddy at first glance. But with nothing to do but stare back, I found his eyes to be fascinating.
He had kind eyes.
My face burned hot at the realization I was staring—at a patient.
I blinked, dropping my chin. Then I focused on my hands and the package of gauze. Carefully, with as gentle a touch as I could manage, I began to remove the bandages on his arm. “I’m sorry. This might hurt as I change your dressings.”
Milo moaned, the sound forcing my eyes up. He blinked once, then twice. The focus he’d had just seconds ago disappeared and his eyes clouded over again. This time, the haze was not from sleep or sedatives, but from pain.
Whatever thoughts I’d had seconds ago about Milo’s handsome face were gone, blasted from the room by Milo’s piercing roar of agony.
It’s bad before it gets better.
Milo’s bad was going to be the worst.
Two
“I liked that guy better when he was unconscious,” the cafeteria aide muttered. He’d just delivered the cart of meals for the unit, taking patient lunch trays into each room.
I’d heard Milo’s bark about not being hungry all the way from the nurses station. Then came the crash and the unmistakable sound of metal utensils clanging on the floor.
I reached the doorway just as the aide was making his escape. He had splatters of lasagna and pudding on his scrubs.
“Sorry,” I told him. “He’s in extreme pain.”
The aide frowned. “That’s still no reason to kick a perfectly good meal to the floor.”
“I’ll clean it up.” I edged around him for the door. “Sorry.”
I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing on Milo’s behalf. The man had been terrible to everyone since he’d woken up yesterday morning. I would have written him off as a jerk except his muttered curses and angry glares were never aimed my way. Mostly, he refused to look at me when I was in the room. His eyes were almost always closed. But when our gazes met for just a few short seconds, his was always full of remorse. My gut told me the Milo who was quick to snap at his parents and bark at Dr. Vernon wasn’t the real Milo.
The real Milo was somewhere hidden beneath the intense pain and frustration.
As the cafeteria aide walked down the hallway, pushing his empty cart, I went to the supply closet for a stack of towels. Before going into Milo’s room, I took a fortifying breath, then rapped on the door—still ajar—and pushed inside.
“Milo, you have to eat,” his mother said, standing at the foot of his bed.
“I’m not fucking hungry.”
“Please.” Her shoulders fell, but when she caught me from the corner of her eye, they snapped straight. “Oh, hi, Sara. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll get it cleaned up.”
She was a flurry of movement, spinning in a circle as she tried to decide what to pick up first. The spoon. The carton of milk. The overturned plate. The streak of chocolate pudding on the wall. Her brown hair was pulled back, giving me a good view of the tears she was trying to hide.
I set my towels down. “Mrs. Phillips, may I have a word in the hall?”
Her eyes got wider. Maybe she was expecting me to say Milo was getting kicked out, but she nodded and followed me outside. I pulled the door partly closed as she wrapped her arms around her stomach.
“I’m so sorry, Sara. He’s not like this. He’s such a sweet and caring man. I don’t—”
“It’s okay. Really.”
“I don’t want you to think he’s a bad person.”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “I don’t. People aren’t themselves when they’re hurting this much.”
“I’ve never seen him like this,” she whispered, her voice shaking. There was fear in her eyes. Fear for her son’s pain. Fear that he might not recover and return to the son she knew.
“It’s bad before it gets better,” I promised. “But it will get better.”
She nodded, her eyes unfocused and full of tears. “I hate this. I feel helpless.”
I’d heard the same from Luna’s mother not long ago as she’d collapsed in my arms and cried. What had helped her was a purpose, like doing Luna’s hair. Maybe a small task would help Milo’s mom too.
“If you’d like to do something, you could go to the cafeteria and bring up a milkshake.”
“A milkshake?”
I nodded. “Milo is getting pumped full of fluids and electrolytes right now as we try and get him balanced out. I’m not surprised he doesn’t want to eat. The medication and pain can steal your appetite. But he does need to eat.”
He needed more calories now than before the injury to give his body the energy to heal. But this was a common problem. Patients in this stage of their recovery were rarely hungry. So we supplemented meals with milkshakes and protein smoothies until their appetite returned.
“Okay. Any flavor?”
“Pick a favorite. And take your time. I’ll stay with Milo until you get back.”
“Kirk will be back soon. He just went to make a few calls.”
“I’ll be here.”
Her face washed with relief now that she’d been given something to do—and a brief respite from the stress of Milo’s room. “Thank you, Sara.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Phillips.”
“Please, call me Teresa. I have a feeling by the time we’re through with all of this, we’ll feel like family.” Teresa gave me one last smile, then turned and walked down the hallway. After a few steps, her shoulders lowered from her ears.
She was a good mom. I’d met her only yesterday, but the good ones were easy to spot. They hurt as much as their children, even when their sons were grown men whose rooms needed to be cleaned.
I pushed through the door, not knocking this time. My eyes went to Milo instantly.
His head was propped up on two pillows. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his jaw ticked as it clenched tight.
I should be mad about the lunch strewn over the room, but all I felt was sadness for Milo.
Without a word, I picked up the metal plate cover from the floor. Then I collected the knife and paper napkin, setting it all on Milo’s table. He must have kicked the table away from the bed because it was at an odd angle. The force from the kick had probably sent the lunch tray flying.
“Don’t,” Milo said, his voice stopping me before I could pick up his fork.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t pick it up. I’ll do it. It’s my fault.”
I held back a laugh. There was no way he’d be able to move around and pick up the mess he’d made. So I ignored him and walked over to the sink, wetting the corner of a towel. “You have to eat. It’s food or a feeding tube. Given all the tubes you’re currently hooked up to, I’m guessing you’d rather not add another one shoved up your nose.”
“Not especially.”
“Then eat. Please.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I told him as I went to the pile of lasagna on the flo
or covered by an overturned plate. “You need protein and calories to heal and maintain muscle mass. So are you going to eat?”
He grumbled his agreement.
I finished cleaning up the mess and put the dirty dishes on the tray by the sink for the aides to clear away later. I’d put the room back to rights just as Milo’s dad, Kirk, walked into the room.
“Hi, there.” He gave me a brief glance, then went to his son’s bedside, leaning close to say, “Talked to Beau. Jess is out of the woods and going to be fine.”
Milo’s sigh filled the room. “Thank God.”
Who was Jess? A coworker? A relative? A girlfriend?
“What’s the plan for today, Sara?” Kirk asked, taking the seat in the corner. Before I could answer, he noticed Teresa was gone. “Where’s your mom?”
Milo looked to his lap without an answer.
It didn’t take Kirk more than a moment to find the tray by the sink and the heap of food-stained towels. But instead of scolding his son, Kirk simply mouthed me an apology and dropped his gaze to the floor.
“Teresa went to the cafeteria to get Milo a milkshake,” I told Kirk.
“Okay. I’ll go find her.” He pushed up from the chair, but before leaving, he stopped at the end of Milo’s bed to squeeze his son’s foot through the blanket.
When he left the room, Milo’s deep voice was no more than a whisper. “I wish they’d leave.”
“Why?” If I was in this kind of pain, all I’d want was my dad close. An impossibility, now that he was gone.
“It’s my own damn fault I’m here. I don’t need them hanging around, getting behind on things at home and making me feel even more guilty than I already do.”
There were patients here who’d kill for their parents to sit by their sides. To have someone who could sympathize with their pain. Teresa and Kirk were here to support him and to ease some of their own worries. In pain or not, it wasn’t fair for Milo to wish that away from them.
“They’re here because they care. Because they’re worried and they love you.” It came out angrier than I’d planned. “You’re lucky to have them.”
Milo matched my tone. “How is this your business?”
It was the first time he’d snapped at me. He was right, it wasn’t my business. But his angry voice slashed through me like a sharp knife and I shied away from the bed. “It’s not. Excuse me.”
I spun from the room, going for the supply area. I needed a few moments alone to detach and heal my pride. I should have kept my mouth shut. His family’s dynamic was not my concern.
Why had I inserted myself? I’d never had a problem staying out of the mix before. The only family I’d ever really gotten to know was Luna’s and that wasn’t so much me putting myself out there as them pulling me in.
Why was I so concerned, so invested, in Milo’s situation? I’d only known him a day. But those damn kind eyes had sucked me in.
Yesterday, as I’d changed his dressings, he’d only cried out once. Only once, that very first roar. From then on out, he’d kept it all inside. When Dr. Vernon had come in to debride one of the larger burns on Milo’s torso, he’d laid like a statue.
I wouldn’t have cared if he’d yelled or screamed. There was nothing to be ashamed of—if a scream or cry helped someone survive the pain, then I was all for it. But Milo held himself like a rock weathering a thunderstorm.
I’d never seen that kind of endurance before.
Even with the morphine and numbing agents applied to the area, Milo had been in pain. His fists and legs had shaken as he’d borne Dr. Vernon’s procedure. His teeth grinding together had been the loudest sound in the operating room.
Milo hadn’t asked for more drugs or nitrous oxide. Instead, he’d lain there taking the pain like it was a penance.
His courage had endeared me to him yesterday. And today I found him just as handsome as ever.
Even with the burns, even with his broken spirit, Milo Phillips had this glint in his eyes when he looked at me that made my heart race. He was a magnet. What I should have done was taken the other side of the unit today. I should have given myself some space from Milo.
But when Kym had asked which rooms I’d wanted, I hadn’t hesitated for a second.
I regretted that now. Now that I’d made a fool of myself thinking I had the right to tell Milo how he should treat his parents.
What is wrong with me? I’d crossed the line. I owed him an apology.
I shook my head and gathered up new dressings, taking the time to let my shame fade. Then, with arms loaded once again, I returned to Milo’s room.
He was alone but a milkshake glass was in his bandaged hand, the green straw to his lips.
I pulled in the corners of my mouth to hide a victorious smile. The milkshake was a good start. He’d at least heard something I’d said earlier.
“I’m sorry.” His apology caught me off guard because I’d been about to say the same thing.
“No, it’s my fault. You were right. It’s not my business.”
“I’m being an ass.” He dropped his head back to the pillows and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You’re in pain. Don’t beat yourself up.” I walked over to his bed and shut off the light above him.
“Thanks.” He sighed, the lines in his forehead relaxing. Milo always seemed calmer in the dark.
“Dr. Vernon wants to clean the burns on your arms today,” I told him. “He’s got a few other patients lined up in front of you, then he’ll be in and we’ll get started. So first, I want to check the dressings on your stomach and chest. We’ll get those changed and then you can rest until it’s time.”
He gave me a barely there nod as he continued to sip his milkshake.
It didn’t take me long to change his dressings, even with only the dim light coming from the shaded window and bathroom at my back. Dr. Vernon had removed most of the dead gray skin from Milo’s torso yesterday and would do the same for his arms today. Milo lay perfectly still, not so much as twitching, as I swapped bandages out on his third-degree burns.
So much damage had been done to the nerves in those areas, I doubted he could feel my touch. It was when I treated his first- and second-degree burns that I’d hear the familiar sound of grinding molars.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He grunted.
I touched a tender spot, peeling off the old bandage that was soaked in yellow, orange and red splotches. Milo winced so hard it shook the bed.
“Talk to me,” he said through a clenched jaw.
“About?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Okay.” I nodded, searching the room for a conversation starter. My eyes landed on Luna’s tea light that I’d left in here yesterday. I’d been so distracted by his handsome face and those intoxicating eyes, I’d forgotten to give him an explanation. “That tea light is a gift from your neighbor. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. She makes it a point to introduce herself to everyone. Just don’t . . . don’t stare.”
“Is it bad?”
I met his gaze, my eyes softening. “Everyone here has it bad.”
I couldn’t tell him about Luna’s situation, not that I’d have to. Luna would tell anyone who looked at her scars for more than five seconds about the accident. I think it helped her deal with this new reality and her new appearance. She gave her scars a story and that made them less frightening.
“When she first came here, I sat with her at night a lot. Her parents couldn’t always stay because she has two younger siblings at home. So I stayed after my shifts to keep her company.”
Milo relaxed as I spoke, the rigid muscles of his stomach relaxing. He wasn’t bulky, but he had a firm, trim body. He was tall, his ankles dangling off the bed when he was fully stretched out. And he was lean—borderline lanky—but it worked for him. Standing, he’d tower over me. Those long arms would probably engulf me with a hug.
Milo didn’t wear a wedding ring, but for all I kn
ew, he had a girlfriend. The idea caused a flare of jealousy. Did he have a girlfriend? Was it Jess who Kirk had mentioned?
It didn’t matter, because he was a patient.
The only hug I’d ever get from Milo was a good-bye squeeze when he left this hospital and I never heard from him again.
“So why the tea light?” Milo asked.
“She’s been collecting them since she got here. She told me she didn’t want to be scared of fire her entire life, so she was going to surround herself with it until she wasn’t afraid. Obviously, real candles aren’t an option in the hospital. But I found a battery-powered tea light in the gift shop and it sort of became our thing. I bring her one every few days in a different color.”
My latex glove brushed one of Milo’s burns and his entire body jerked. “Sorry.”
His eyes stayed shut as his hand fumbled across the blanket toward the edge of the bed, his fingers searching for the button attached to his IV. He found it and, with a push, gave himself another dose of morphine.
I waited for a minute, giving the medicine time to work through his IV tubes.
Self-regulated pain medication always made me nervous. I didn’t want my patients to be in severe pain and the mechanisms had limits, but still, I’d watched one too many former patients walk out the door with prescriptions that became addictions.
It was common for burn victims to get addicted to opioids. Pain from burn wounds didn’t go away once the skin was healed. Scars often hurt no matter how much time passed.
After three recent patients had admitted themselves into rehab, the hospital administration had called a meeting of the burn unit staff. While we were still allowed to give our severe cases the self-regulated IVs, we’d been instructed to keep a close watch.
All that meeting had done was make me nervous. With Luna, I’d watched her pain management like a hawk, and thankfully, she had been using only over-the-counter medicines for weeks.
I shoved my worries for Milo away. He was in the early stages. He needed this morphine. There’d be plenty of time to wean him off the pain medication once his burns began to heal.
“Ready for me to keep going?” I asked gently.