Finally, he took a disposable cold pack from the mini-fridge in the storage cabinet by the sink and said, “We’ll need to X-ray it to be sure, but I’m almost certain your wrist is broken in at least one place.”
“So, wait…does that mean I’ll need, like, a cast?” Evie asked, sitting up straighter against the gurney.
“Yes,” Connor said, clamping down on the fact that half the time, injuries like this also required surgery, too. They’d cross that bridge if they got there, but for now, he had news that was going to rattle her enough. “At this point, because of the nature of the injury, I need to ask a doctor to come over from across the street to take a look, too.”
“What? No.” Evie shook her head in a rapid back and forth, lasering her stare to the spot where she’d left her coat, her sweatshirt, and her shoes. “I can’t…I don’t want more people to see. You said you could fix this. Just you two.”
Connor’s pulse tapped out a warning. “I said I could help, but I’m not a specialist. You need someone with experience in orthopedics to do a full assessment.”
“No. No. This was a mistake. I knew if I came here, you’d blow this out of proportion. It was just a stupid fall!”
Pressing forward, she swung her legs over the side of the gurney, snatching her arm to her side as Connor took an involuntary step toward her. Damn it. “No, wait. I didn’t mean to sc—”
“I’m not scared!” Evie cried. “It’s not that big of a deal. I just want to go home.”
Connor’s heart drummed a bassline beat in his chest. But before he could go for round two in trying to calm Evie down, Harlow shifted right into the woman’s line of sight and parked herself there, unmoving.
“Evie, listen. Listen to me,” she insisted. “We’re not trying to overwhelm you. We can do the X-rays here, and I can stay with you for those, too. But Connor’s right. We need a doctor to make sure we can treat you properly. It’s the only way to help you get better, and”—her voice softened—“we would very much like to do that. So, please. Will you let us help you?”
Tears streamed silently down Evie’s face. “I can’t.”
“You can,” Harlow promised her.
“You don’t understand,” Evie said, and to Connor’s surprise, Harlow nodded.
“You’re right, I don’t. But I think someone hurt you, and I’d like to help so it never happens again.”
Evie’s tear-stained eyes went wide, and damn, her denial was strong. Or maybe it was her fear, because her voice wavered as she said, “It wasn’t like that. I told you, I just fell outside of my apartment. That’s all.”
But where Evie wavered, Harlow remained strong and true. “I can’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I do know what it’s like to hold things in. I know what it’s like to hide what I’m feeling. And if what you’re feeling right now is scared, we can help you, Evie.”
“No, you can’t.” Evie’s bottom lip trembled, and Connor’s heart jack-knifed beneath his scrubs.
And still, Harlow was calm. “I swear to you that we can.” After a breath, then two, she asked, “You didn’t slip and fall, did you?”
Evie shook her head, a tiny, broken movement. “N-no. But you can’t tell anyone. He said…it will only get worse if I tell.”
“It won’t,” Connor said, as softly as he could around his rage. “We have lots of ways of taking care of our patients, Evie, and Harlow is right. We can help you if you let us.”
“I’m scared,” she whispered, and Harlow nodded.
“That’s okay. We’re right here.”
Connor kept to his spot close to the door, but gave Evie his most reassuring look. “Why don’t we start with having a doctor take care of your wrist, and then we can find the best way to handle the rest. Would that be okay?”
“So, we can just have the doctor look, and I won’t have to, you know. Say anything else?”
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Connor said. It was a carefully selected truth, but Evie had already lost so much control over what had happened to her. They didn’t have to talk about pressing charges until her arm had been taken care of.
Evie looked at Harlow. “And you’ll really stay with me when this other doctor gets here?”
“I really will,” Harlow promised.
Finally, Evie nodded. “Okay. I…yeah. I’ll stay.”
A single flash of emotion moved over Harlow’s face, and it tightened his throat as much as Evie’s response.
“Everything’s going to be alright,” Connor said. He’d do whatever it took to make sure of it.
For both of them.
22
Connor knew that what came next had to happen with extreme care. He and Harlow had to be on the same page every step of the way, so—as much as it pained him, and probably her along with him—they left Evie in the safety of the exam room and moved into the hallway to piece together what came next.
“Okay,” Connor said, taking his cell phone out of the pocket in his scrubs. “I’m pretty sure Mallory’s on shift tonight, so let me see who’s on his service.” He tapped out a text, relief pouring through him when he got a fast reply. “Ah, good. It’s Vasquez. I’m going to ask him to send her over, and Tess, too.”
Harlow’s brows pulled down in confusion. “Isn’t Dr. Mallory the ortho attending? That makes him the most qualified to look at Evie’s wrist, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but Evie’s already overwhelmed enough with one man in the room. Vasquez is good, and with Tess supervising her, they can send Evie’s scans to Mallory via her electronic chart and do a phone consult. We’ll bring him in if we need to,” he assured Harlow. As much as he wanted to put Evie at ease, he couldn’t compromise her health. “But I think this way will work, at least enough to get us to a diagnosis.”
“Okay,” Harlow replied. “That seems smart, and I’d like to make this as easy as possible on her.”
Connor’s instincts pushed with the urge to ask how Harlow was doing. Abuse cases were hardly in her wheelhouse—Christ, he’d seen dozens of them and they were still hell to process, every time. Plus, with what she’d said to Evie about knowing what it was like to hide her feelings, and how exhausted she’d been before the woman had even walked in the door? Harlow must be trying to micromanage a shit-ton of emotions right now.
Not that she let a single one of them show. “What will you do once Tess and Sofia get here?” she asked.
“Let them help Evie.”
His gut clenched at the thought of not being the one to help her, personally. But Harlow would be there with her, and Tess and Vasquez were great doctors.
Getting Evie the care she needed meant he had to trust them to give it to her.
Connor cleared his throat. “I’m going to call Mallory and fill him in. While we wait for Tess and Vasquez to come over, we can talk to Evie about filing charges.”
“That’s going to be a difficult conversation,” Harlow said, and fuck, he couldn’t disagree.
“I know, but I might have a solution for that, too.” He outlined what he had in mind, relief nudging through him as Harlow agreed that the plan seemed not only viable, but smart. After a quick call to Mallory to explain the situation, he let Harlow lead the way back into the exam room, where Evie sat huddled on the gurney, the arm she’d let Connor splint before he’d gone to call the ED elevated over two pillows and bundled in a temporary splint.
“Hey. Doing okay?” Connor asked, hating the stupidity of the question.
“I guess,” Evie said, although she looked a hell of a lot more at-ease now that Harlow had resumed her spot beside the gurney. “Did you call a doctor?”
Harlow nodded. “We did. Dr. Michaelson and Dr. Vasquez are on their way to do the X-rays and perform a more thorough exam. They’re very good doctors, and Dr. Michaelson is a friend of mine. You’ll be in the best hands.”
“Okay,” Evie said, giving up a tiny nod.
Connor paused, knowing the next thing he was going to
say had the potential to shut down the progress they’d made. But he’d promised to help Evie, and while he might not be able to do that in the literal sense of shooting X-rays or running labs or administering medication, he could do this.
“Since we have a minute or two, I was hoping you could do something for me,” Connor said.
Evie’s eyes widened, her shock evident. “Me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, seeming to shock her further with the reply. “See, taking care of you doesn’t just mean splinting your wrist or calling a doctor to read your X-rays. It means making sure you’re safe, and that you don’t get hurt again.”
“You want me to call the cops, don’t you?” Tension reclaimed Evie’s shoulders, her mouth pressing into a hard, pale line, but Connor continued anyway.
“Someone hurt you, Evie, and yes, I’d like to see him pay for it.”
“I’d like that, too,” Harlow added, before Evie could protest. “What happened to you isn’t okay, sweetheart. It needs to stop.”
“It sounds so easy, when you say it like that.” She sounded more resigned than defensive, though, as if she wanted to believe it could be that easy.
And so, Connor would make it that way. “I have a really good friend. Her name is Addison. She’s also my neighbor, and a detective at the Thirty-Third precinct. I think she might be able to help you.”
“One time, my neighbors called the cops,” Evie said, her bottom lip trembling. “But once they got there, they barely took a look around. When my boyfriend said it was only an argument and I was being melodramatic with all my screaming and crying, they believed him. He’d been the one yelling.” She shook her head against the gurney. “He’d been the one to shove me. But the cops didn’t ask about that. They just took him at his word.”
“We believe you,” Harlow said, squeezing Evie’s uninjured hand. “And this time, the police will believe you.”
“Addison will believe you, too,” Connor promised. The evidence was overwhelming, and anyway, Addison was a great cop. She knew the truth when it was in front of her, and she might look like a college cheerleader, with her blond ponytail and quick smile, but when it came to justice? She was a freaking barracuda. Only with sharper teeth. “She also knows social workers and has contacts at women’s shelters. She can find you a place to stay where you’d be safe. Tonight, if need be.”
Hope flared in Connor’s chest when Evie paused. But then she shook her head. “And then tomorrow, I’d have to go back. My boyfriend will have made bail by then. He told me that’s what would happen.”
“He lied to you to scare you,” Connor said. “If you press charges, with the evidence we have here?” He looked at her arm, propped over the pillows. “They’ll stick, and he’ll go to jail.” Connor would make fucking sure of that.
“No, they won’t. He’ll get out on bail and nothing will change. He said.” Evie’s voice wavered, the tears that had welled in her eyes spilling over her face. “He said if I ever called the cops, I’d be sorry.”
Harlow reached for a tissue and wiped her tears gently away. “Evie, we can’t make you call the police. The choice is yours. But we can promise you this. Connor and I are here to take care of people. We will do whatever it takes to take care of you, and that includes making sure your boyfriend never touches you again. All you have to do is say the word. We’re here for you, no matter what. But if you want to call the police, I can promise you, your boyfriend is the one who will be sorry.”
“What if he tries to get to me and hurt me again?” Evie whispered.
Something dark moved through Connor’s chest at the thought, but he set it aside. “Then we’ll be there,” he said, as Harlow continued to stand by Evie’s side, steady and strong. “Okay?”
Her tears began falling faster, but she gave up a shaky, broken nod. “Okay,” she whispered.
And when her tears turned into sobs, Harlow held her.
Since joining Davenport Industries, Harlow had been stared down, yelled at, condescended to, and intimidated more times than she could count.
Yet nothing—nothing—had prepared her for the brutality that Evie’s boyfriend had been capable of, or the emotional trauma that came with it.
Tess and Sofia Vasquez had arrived mere minutes after Evie had agreed to let Connor call his detective friend. He’d disappeared to do that, then given Evie privacy with Tess and Sofia so they could complete her exam. Tess had been efficient and kind, and Sofia had been very thorough, making sure each X-ray was exactly as needed for the most accurate view of the bones in Evie’s wrist before sending them on to Dr. Mallory.
Evie had eventually agreed to allow Tess to do a full examination once they’d consulted with Dr. Mallory to take care of her wrist, which had been broken in two places, with minor yet painful ligament damage that all but ensured she’d need physical therapy. Dr. Mallory didn’t let out a peep of complaint over not doing the exam in person, expertly guiding Sofia through the whole thing over the phone, even when it turned out that three of Evie’s ribs were bruised and they’d had to X-ray those, as well. She’d also had a series of burn marks across the back of one shoulder that had made Harlow’s stomach turn and her chest fill up with white-hot anger. The small blessing was that there were no signs of sexual assault, and Evie had been genuinely emphatic that her boyfriend “only” knocked her around when he got drunk, but never forced her into sex.
Oh, the “only” had been bad enough.
“How are you holding up?” Harlow asked, shaking herself back to the here-and-now of the exam room. Tess and Sofia had finished with the exam, Tess gently replacing the blanket over Evie’s legs and—now that there was no danger of her needing surgery on her wrist or anything else—Sofia bringing her some ginger ale and a package of peanut butter crackers from the hospital’s vending machine.
“Okay, I guess.” Evie looked at the fiberglass cast now encasing her arm from her knuckles to mid-forearm. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
“Sorry I had to immobilize your thumb, too,” Sofia said, and funny, for as serious as the intern usually was, she looked very contrite. “It was the only way for the bones to heal properly, but I know it’s probably uncomfortable.”
“That’s okay,” Evie said. “It’ll get better this way.”
Anything Sofia might’ve added got cut off by a knock at the door, followed by a friendly face peeking over the threshold.
“Hi. I’m Detective Hale. Connor’s friend. You can call me Addison, though, if you like.” She smiled and murmured an extra hello at Tess, whom she clearly already knew. “Would it be okay if I came in?”
Evie’s shoulders hiked upward, but she still nodded. “If you want, I guess.”
“Actually, Evie, this is about what you want,” Addison said, neither her smile nor her feet budging. “I don’t have to come in at all.”
“Oh.” Evie blinked, and in that moment, Harlow could’ve kissed the detective. “No, it’s okay. I want you to.”
“Great. Thanks,” Addison said, crossing the threshold with a pretty, dark-haired woman. “This is my partner, Detective Walker.”
“Isabella,” the woman said, her smile as kind as Addison’s as she shared it with Evie, then everyone else in the room.
Tess cleared her throat. “We’re all done with your exam, Evie. Dr. Vasquez and I can leave you to your privacy.”
She turned to go, but Evie shook her head. “No. I mean, the stuff in my chart…what you saw, it will help with the charges, right?”
Tess exchanged a glance with Harlow, then with both detectives before answering. “All of your medical information is private. I won’t share it unless you give me permission to. Ever. That said…if you decide that you feel okay with that, I’m happy to go on record with my professional medical opinion that your injuries are one hundred percent consistent with abuse.”
“I am, too,” Sofia added.
“Would…would you stay with me while I make the report, too?” Evie asked, and Ha
rlow’s heart lurched as both doctors nodded and stepped up to Evie’s bedside, across from her.
Tess said, “Of course.”
Bravely, Evie told Addison and Isabella about her turbulent five-month history with her boyfriend. How he’d isolated her from her friends and monitored her phone calls and texts. How he’d started with a small shove here, or an arm-grab there, but always apologized. By the time the abuse escalated, he’d had her scared out of her mind and convinced that no one would believe her, even with the stone-cold proof right there in front of them. Then, tonight, he’d pushed her so hard that she’d fallen halfway down the stairs in his row home. Although she’d thrown out her hand to absorb most of the impact, once she’d regained her balance, she’d run. Her boyfriend had been too drunk to follow, but not too drunk to yell at her that she’d be back, because she had nowhere else to go. No one else who cared.
No one else to love her.
The story broke Harlow’s heart, Evie’s isolation and loneliness not unfamiliar even though the situation itself definitely was. But Harlow recognized that pain in Evie’s eyes. She felt every ounce of the bone-deep emotions, and knew all too well how quickly they could drown a person in despair.
They’d drowned her once. They threatened to drown her, still. But she would not—absolutely could not—let them show.
No matter how close to the surface they were right now.
Isabella, who had stepped out of the exam room at the halfway point in Evie’s story, returned now, with an older, kind-eyed woman beside her.
“Evie, this is Lara Clayton,” Isabella said. “She works for Haven House, here in Remington.”
“The women’s shelter?” Evie asked, and Harlow’s interest perked. She’d heard only good things about the place, and Davenport Industries had made several charitable donations to the shelter over the past decade. Her mother had always been an advocate for worthy organizations in need of funds to care for others. Especially local ones.
“Yes,” Ms. Clayton said. “I’m one of the directors there.”
Between Me & You: An Enemies to Lovers Workplace Romance (Remington Medical Book 3) Page 22