“All that’s left to do is tidy the waiting room and lock up.” Alejandro turned toward the door leading to the main lobby, but Connor smiled and waved them both off.
“You two go ahead. We can take care of that.”
Macie’s brows shifted up toward her braids. “Are you sure?”
“Of course.” He rooted through the pocket of his bomber jacket for his keys. “Just let me—” Ah, shit. Keys? Check. Cell phone? Not so much. “I must’ve left my phone in the office somewhere. Walk you guys out the back while I go to grab it?”
Macie and Alejandro nodded, and Harlow gestured to the front door. “I’ll lock up here in the meantime.”
Connor’s safety-in-numbers rule for whomever worked until closing applied to everyone—himself and Harlow included—so thankfully, the fact that she was waiting for him didn’t make either of their employees bat an eye.
“Sounds good. I’ll only be a couple minutes,” he promised.
But she shooed him toward the back of the clinic. “Connor, please. What in the world could happen to me while I’m tidying up? I’ll be fine out here by myself. Go,” she said.
Then she smiled softly and headed toward the lobby.
21
Harlow auto-piloted herself through the security door leading to the clinic’s lobby. Her head still pounded beneath the boulder-like weight of her thoughts, but oddly, her heart felt a little lighter, a tiny twinge of hope glimmering there amid all the shadows.
We’re a team, remember? I’ve got your back…
Of all the emotions she’d crammed down over the past few years, hope was the one she’d missed the most.
It was also the most dangerous.
The sound of the automatic doors hissing open yanked Harlow back to the lobby in an instant. A gust of frigid air blew inside, raising goose bumps on her skin despite the fact that she was wearing one of her coziest wool sweaters.
The chill was nothing compared to the sensation that moved through her when she saw the young woman standing on the threshold.
“Oh,” the woman, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-three, said, her brown eyes going wide in shock as she caught sight of Harlow standing there with a magazine in one hand and her heart in her esophagus. “I, uh. Do…do you work here?”
“Yes, but we’re—” Some instinct Harlow couldn’t label made her redirect, mid-sentence. “Yes,” she said. “I work here. My name is Harlow.” She stepped forward, her pulse taking a swipe at her composure as the woman countered with a step back.
“Evie,” the woman mumbled at the floor. “So, are you, like, a doctor?”
At this, Harlow knew she couldn’t lie. “No. But I can help you.” She scanned Evie from head to toe, but couldn’t discern much past the young woman’s long, quilted parka and baggy sweatpants. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” The reply was too fast to be anything other than denial, Evie’s dark blond hair flying around her shoulders at the force of her head shake. But the way she’d winced, then cradled her left forearm tight to her body, told the real truth.
“Are you sure?” Harlow asked gently, tamping down the dread threatening to rise up and rattle her no-big-deal tone.
Evie paused. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but maybe a little,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Stupid, really. I slipped and fell outside my apartment. My wrist is kind of bruised, so I thought, you know. Maybe I could get one of those brace thingies. But I can just take it and go.” Her eyes darted to the empty intake desk, and the quiet clinic beyond. “I know you’re closing up.”
Harlow shook her head. Fine, yes. Technically, they were closed, and protocol dictated that she send the woman across the street to Remington Memorial’s emergency department for a full workup. But just as surely as she knew that was what she was supposed to do, she also knew, deep in her belly, that the woman wouldn’t go.
So she put down the magazine still in her hand and said, “We stay until everyone who needs help gets it. Why don’t you come inside where it’s warmer, and I can get someone to take a quick look at your wrist?”
Evie paused, panic edging into her stare. “I don’t have to fill out any paperwork for this, right? If the doctor’s just going to look?”
“We have one of the best nurses in Remington,” Harlow said, hoping it might put her at ease, because she knew she had to add, “You’d have to fill out a couple of forms, but they’re mostly for our records here, and so we can bill your insurance company.”
“Oh.” Evie’s gaze hit the floor. “I don’t have a lot of money, or any insurance, so maybe we should just forget it.”
She turned to the door, and shit. Shit, shit, where was Connor? He’d know what to say to put Evie at ease and agree to get checked out.
Connor trusts you, whispered a voice in the back of her head. Now trust yourself.
“Evie, wait,” Harlow said, her voice as quiet and calm as she could make it with her heart threatening to vault right past her rib cage. “You don’t need insurance for us to help you, and we don’t have to worry about the forms now.”
“Won’t you get in trouble if I can’t pay?” she asked, but Harlow shook her head.
“Nope. We don’t turn people away if they’re hurt, no matter what, and I’m one of the directors here, so I can promise you that no one’s getting into trouble. Your wrist must be hurting if you came all the way out here. I just want to help you out with that. No questions asked. Okay?”
Harlow didn’t move, save to extend a hand in Evie’s direction. For a moment that lasted roughly an eon, Evie stood on the threshold, poised to run, and no, no. No, no, no, no…
Her nod was nearly imperceptible, but—oh, God, thank you—it was there. “Okay,” Evie whispered.
“Good.” Harlow tried her very best to keep her relief tucked beneath her smile. She let Evie close the distance between them at her own pace before turning to the security door leading past the intake desk, using her ID badge to gain access and usher the young woman through. But before they could get any farther into the clinic, a set of familiar footsteps sounded off on the linoleum from the curtain areas, bringing Connor into view.
“Hey, sorry about that. I—”
His cross-trainers squeaked to a stop, his green-gray eyes wary and wide. Evie went completely rigid, the fingers of her non-injured hand flying to Harlow’s wrist and closing in tightly over her sleeve, trembling despite the power of her death grip.
Harlow’s heart launched against her rib cage like a crash-test dummy. “Evie, it’s okay,” she said quietly, trying to infuse the words with calm she was pulling out of thin freaking air. “This is Connor. He works here with me. He’s the nurse I was telling you about. Connor, this is Evie,” she told him, adding with eyes, she needs help. She needs us.
Connor nodded and took a step backward to give Evie some literal room to breathe. “Hi, Evie.”
“You’re the nurse?” she asked, eyeing Connor’s huge frame, which outsized hers significantly in both height and weight.
If Connor was offended by Evie’s doubt, he chose to ignore it. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me. Are you hurt?”
“I…um.” She hugged her left forearm to her body and shook her head. “Not really. It’s no big deal. I just slipped on the ice outside my apartment, like a dummy, and now my wrist is a little bruised, that’s all.”
“Ouch,” Connor said, shrugging out of his jacket, nice and easy. “I’ve done that before, too, and it’s no fun. We can pop into an exam room so I can take a look, if you’d like.”
“No.” Evie clutched Harlow’s sleeve, turning to look at her. “I mean, you said you’re the director, right? Can’t you look at it instead?”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “I’m not a doctor or a nurse, Evie. I’m sorry, but I can’t perform a medical assessment.”
For the third time in the ten minutes she’d been in the building, Evie looked ready to bolt. But no. Harlow couldn’t let that happen. This woman was clearly scared, and just as clearly
hurt, so she said, “I can stay with you, though. As long as you say it’s okay, I can be present for your exam.”
“Really?” Evie asked. Her distrustful gaze drifted over to Connor, who nodded in agreement.
“Absolutely. Harlow and I are a team. She can be right there next to you the whole time I perform the exam, if that’s what you want.”
It took a few seconds, but Evie agreed. She kept ahold of Harlow’s sleeve as Connor led them to the nearest exam room, letting go only when he produced a gown and a blanket, telling her she could keep her sweatpants in place since her injury was to her arm. Harlow asked if she needed any help changing, which Evie quickly refused. She did hand over her driver’s license, though, and tapped her way through the digital form that gave them permission to treat her, along with the fact sheet explaining her HIPAA rights. Finally, Connor pulled the curtain closed and gestured for Harlow to move into the main room of the clinic, shutting the door to the exam room as he followed her.
“I’m sorry,” Harlow whispered, making sure they were far enough from the exam room that there was no chance their voices would carry, even a little bit. “I know I was supposed to send her across the street, but—”
“She wouldn’t have gone,” Connor finished on a low whisper. “You were right not to let her leave. But, listen…” He jammed a hand through his hair, the concern that he’d kept masked in front of Evie now running free and clear over his face. “You should know this might be difficult.”
Her gut triple knotted before dropping like a chunk of wet cement. “You don’t think she slipped, do you?”
“No,” Connor said. “I don’t. But if someone else hurt her, unfortunately, it won’t be the first time I’ve seen it. And I won’t know how badly she’s hurt until I examine her.”
It occurred to Harlow then that he must’ve seen horrible things, unspeakable things wrought with the worst sort of emotions, both in the Air Force and as a nurse at Remington Memorial, and her throat locked up, her own churning emotions preventing her from speaking.
Connor reached out to slide his fingers over hers, just a bare brush of contact. “I know you told Evie you’d stay, but if you need to change your mind, I can call over to the ED and have Tess or one of the interns come out to be in the room instead.”
“No.” Her voice came rushing back. “I mean, unless you think Evie would get better care that way.”
“Actually, I don’t. She clearly trusts you, and I trust you, too. I just want you to be sure. It’s probably going to get emotional.”
A memory of her mother drifted up, slipping through the cracks from the box into which she’d forced it. In those last weeks, her mother had been so weak and frail, spending probably twenty-two of the twenty-four hours in each excruciating day either sleeping or sedated. Harlow’s heart had broken with each second, her emotions smashing through her like a raging sea, but still, she didn’t leave her mother’s side. Not even when her mother gasped for breath and Harlow felt like her own lungs would refuse to work, too. Not even in the crushing moments right after her heart had stopped beating, when the nurses came in to carefully, reverently remove all the tubes and turn off the monitors. Harlow had been steady, then, strong as always. Setting her emotion aside even when she thought it would surely fill her up and choke her. But her mother had needed her then, just as Evie needed someone now, and no matter how much her emotions once again threatened to run rampant and have their way with her, Harlow couldn’t break her promise to the young woman.
No matter how much it might hurt to stay steady, one more time.
“I know,” Harlow said. “But if you think something really bad happened to Evie, then I want to do whatever I can to help you care for her.”
Connor exhaled slowly. “Okay. You ready?”
No, Harlow thought, but she nodded anyway.
Connor leaned in to place a feather-soft kiss on her forehead, and she grabbed all the strength that she could from his nearness. “Me, either,” he said. “But this is what we’re here for. Let’s get Evie taken care of.”
There were times when Connor hated his job. Granted, they were exceedingly rare. But walking into the exam room and seeing Evie, huddled under the blanket he’d given her and scared out of her goddamned mind, and knowing the chances were almost a hundred percent that someone had done something beyond words to make her that way?
Yeah. This part, he really fucking hated.
“Hi, again,” Connor said, moving slowly and making sure she could see everything he was doing, from washing his hands at the small sink across from the gurney where she sat to grabbing a pair of nitrile gloves from the box on the wall. “It’s been pretty cold this week. Sorry if it’s chilly in here.”
She glanced down at the blanket, which she’d pulled around her shoulders and clasped tightly with her uninjured hand. “It’s not so bad,” she replied.
Harlow stepped in to the right side of the gurney, across from him and close enough for Evie to touch, if that’s what she chose. “We can get you another blanket if you need one. Just ask.”
“No, I just…I really want to get this over with. No offense,” Evie mumbled, mostly at Connor.
Damn, he really didn’t blame her. “None taken. I’m going to need to take your vital signs first. That’s your temperature, your blood pressure, your heart rate, and your pulse oximetry. How much oxygen is in your blood,” he added. “None of the tests hurt, though. I’ll take your pulse ox with a monitor that gets clipped to your finger. Okay?”
Evie lifted a thin shoulder and let it drop. “I guess.”
Connor took a temporal scan for her temperature and slipped the portable pulse ox monitor into place easily enough. But the rest was going to require Evie to loosen her blanket, so Connor had to play it just right to keep her calm.
“Let’s take your blood pressure on the right arm, since your left one is hurting.” He moved to stand next to Harlow, but Evie didn’t budge.
Shit. He needed to put her at ease. Think, think… “Harlow, can you take this for me, please?”
He handed over the blood pressure cuff while Harlow’s lips parted in the tiniest show of surprise. She didn’t hesitate, though, and hell if that didn’t make Connor’s heart jump a little extra.
“Evie, I’m going to have Harlow slide the cuff onto your arm. I might have to adjust it a little to make sure it works, and then I can take your blood pressure. I’ll place the stethoscope on the inside of your wrist, like this”—he reached for Harlow’s arm at the same time she offered it, touching the diaphragm at the end of his stethoscope to the inside of her wrist—“and that’s it. Okay?”
Evie bit her lip. Harlow reached for her without making contact, waiting for Evie to decide as she said, “I trust Connor, Evie. He won’t hurt you, and neither will I.”
Evie nodded and extended her arm. Connor’s gut gave up a sharp pang at the sight of the faded bruises above her wrist, then another, fresher set just above her elbow. Harlow sent a lightning fast glance at him to be sure he’d seen both, then very gently slid the blood pressure cuff into place. He made fast work of finishing Evie’s vitals, then let her cover back up with the blanket.
“You did great,” he told her, stepping back to note her vitals on her chart, and also to give her some space. Fuck, the way the poor woman tensed up and flinched whenever he touched her made Connor want to find whoever had caused those bruises and tear the person limb from limb.
But he had to be sure what they were dealing with. “The next part of the exam is called a history. It’s just a couple of questions to make sure we can treat you properly.”
Relief streaked over Evie’s face, but still, she reached for Harlow’s hand. “Okay.”
“Do you have any health conditions we should know about?” Connor asked. “History of cancer, blood disorders? Anything like that?” Anything that would cause bruises like the ones on your arm?
“No.”
Connor nodded, hating where the answer led him even tho
ugh he’d expected it. “Are you currently taking any medications?”
Evie paused and looked at Harlow. “I try to take a vitamin every day, but sometimes I forget. And I take, like, ibuprofen sometimes if I get a headache.” She chanced some brief eye contact with Connor, which was more than he’d gotten thus far. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yep. That’s really helpful,” Connor told her. “How about aspirin or blood thinners?” Last ditch on the cause of the bruises.
“No.”
Connor’s jaw tightened, and Christ, Harlow must know him better than he’d realized, because she nodded at him, very slightly, in understanding.
“Alright. So, you’re here tonight with wrist pain. Did you hurt anything else when you fell?” He stuck with Evie’s story even though he had whopping fucking doubts about its validity. Calling her a liar or cornering her with accusations wouldn’t help anything, and his primary job right now, in this moment, was to take care of her injury.
“No. Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “It’s just my wrist.”
“Okay. Let’s take a look.”
Evie hesitated, tension radiating off of her tiny frame in waves Connor could practically reach out and touch. She looked at Harlow, whose composed, kind expression slid all the way through him, giving him strength, too.
“I’m right here,” she said to Evie. “I won’t let go of your hand unless you ask me to. I promise.”
Exhaling, Evie drew her left arm from beneath the blanket. Connor’s adrenaline twisted to life, his breath spackling itself to his lungs as he took in her swollen fingers, her bruise-mottled hand, and—Jesus—her awkwardly bent and clearly broken wrist.
“I’m sure that hurts,” he said, throwing every ounce of his strength into keeping his voice smoothly metered. Harlow’s eyes rounded for only a split second, but in that tiny slice of time, Connor felt her emotion almost as keenly as he felt his own. Very carefully, he supported Evie’s arm with one hand as he completed the exam, asking her to wiggle her fingers and attempt a few movements to determine how badly her range of motion had been compromised.
Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3) Page 21