Maisey shook her head. “I seriously doubt it.”
Violet spun around in her chair. Maisey’s voice didn’t sound too good. “What do you mean?” She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“I’m sorry, Violet.”
Violet reached out and grabbed her sleeve as she tried to walk away. “What do you mean, you’re sorry? Why have I to go the boardroom?”
Maisey couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s the director. Along with Evan Hunter. I think Evan’s complained about the deadline you didn’t meet—the report he’s been waiting four days for.”
Violet’s heart started to thud in her chest. “But that’s what I’m working on.” She held up the crumpled piece of paper.
Maisey shook her head. “I’m sorry, Violet. The director said he wanted to see you straight away.”
Violet stood up, trying to ignore the tremor in her legs.
Rats. She’d known she was treading on thin ice when she hadn’t had the report ready for Evan on time.
The truth was she had been hoping he would forget all about it now they had a final diagnosis of monkeypox. Sawyer should be the last thing on his mind right now.
She scrabbled around her desk for the report she’d been writing. Not only was it very late, she’d also left the details scarce. It would hardly placate the director.
Was he about to fire her?
Was she about to get fired because she’d tried to cover for her brother?
Her heart pounded as she crossed the department on her way to the boardroom. At this rate she would be sick all over the director’s shoes.
The boardroom—where all official business was carried out.
One thing was sure—if she was going down, she was taking Evan Hunter with her. Let Evan see what the director thought about the boss cavorting with his staff.
* * *
All heads turned towards her. Callie’s heart was racing, sweat lashing off her brow and running down her back.
Sawyer stepped into her line of vision, blocking the view of Jack and the rest of the staff. It took her a second to focus.
“Callie. Calm down.”
Her skin was prickling. The scar on her leg itching like crazy. Her head flicking back between Ben’s fearful face on the bed behind her and Sawyer’s wide frame standing in front of her.
Everything seemed to be spiraling out of her control. She didn’t feel in charge any more. “We can’t stop. We can’t. It’s not been long enough.” She was shaking her head. This wasn’t even her area of expertise. What did she know about resuscitating a child? The last time she’d been involved in a pediatric resuscitation she’d been a first-year resident. It had made her realize that pediatrics wasn’t for her.
“Callie.” His hands were firmly on her shoulders now. “Step away from this. It’s under control.”
That’s when she lost it even more. “You think this is under control? Under control? How? How is this under control? Is this part of the plan?”
She moved closer to Sawyer and hissed in his ear, “If Jack’s about to die, you need to tell his family. You need to give them a chance to say goodbye.” Her eyes drifted back to the bed behind her. “You need to give Ben a chance to say goodbye. He should get to hold his brother’s hand.”
She was feeling frantic. She couldn’t let this happen. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a pediatrician. She was the doctor in charge of this outbreak so, at the end of the day, everyone should be doing what she told them.
Sawyer reached up and stroked her cheek. The action took her by surprise. It brought her instantly back to the here and now. “Callie, Dan’s not stopping. He’s only waiting for a few seconds to recheck the cardiac monitor—to see if Jack’s heart rhythm has changed. Think, Callie. We always do this at arrests. Don’t we?”
His voice was quiet, only loud enough for her to hear. Not that the rest of the staff were bothering. Most were still round Jack’s bed, assisting with the arrest. Another nurse had appeared at Ben’s side and was sitting with her arm around him, talking in his ear.
Ben.
He was terrified. He was crying. He was asking the nurse questions. Callie felt herself start to shake.
“We’ve got a rhythm!”
Both their heads turned towards the shout. Dan had just defibrillated Jack’s little chest again and the monitor had given a little blip. Dan started shouting more instructions for different drugs. The room was a hive of activity. IV’s were being hung and Mr. and Mrs. Keating had been gowned up and were being shown into the room.
Callie was trembling. She couldn’t stop herself.
Then a warm hand slipped into hers and pulled her out of the room, walking her along the corridor and sitting her down in an easy chair. A cold drink was pressed into her hands and Sawyer sat in the chair opposite her.
He didn’t say a word. He just sat.
The cold juice slid down her throat. The intense itch in her leg increased. She was clawing at her leg and couldn’t stop. He bent over, his hand capturing hers and stopping her scratching. His head was underneath hers and he looked up at her. “Want to tell me what just happened in there?”
She felt her throat constrict. “I don’t think I can.”
He sat back in his chair. She could tell he was contemplating what to do next. What on earth must he be thinking of her?
His gaze was steady. It felt as if he was looking deep inside her. Somewhere she didn’t want him to go. “It’s time, Callie. Tell me about your scar.”
She took a sharp breath. How did he know? How did he know there was a connection?
She laid her palm flat on her thigh. The desire to scratch was overwhelming. but she knew it was all psychological. No matter how hard she scratched, it wouldn’t stop the itch. She’d just end up breaking her skin and drawing blood.
“I was in a car accident.” She didn’t know where the words had come from. It almost felt as if someone else had said them. But it was definitely her voice.
“How long ago?” It was a measured question. A prompt. It was almost as if he knew she just couldn’t come out and tell him everything at once—it would be too painful.
“I was twenty-three.”
“Were you badly injured?”
She took a deep breath. Although the scar was a permanent reminder, for the most part Callie had pushed all memories of her injuries aside.
Physical injuries could heal. Psychological injuries not so much.
“I had a fractured femur and tib and fib. Fractured ribs too.”
“Wow. You must have had to take some time out of medical school.”
“Only a few weeks. I became their first official online student. They recorded lectures for me and sent me notes. I did my assignments online for a couple of months.”
It almost gave the game away and she could see the calculating expression on his face. Her professors had gone above and beyond their responsibilities and he had to be wondering why. Most medical schools would have told a seriously injured student to take time off, recuperate and come back the following year.
His gaze remained steady. It was obvious that he’d figured things out. “Who else was in the car, Callie?”
She was instantly on the defensive. “What makes you think someone else was in the car?”
“Who else was in the car, Callie?”
He’d just repeated the question. There was no fooling Sawyer.
Her throat was instantly dry again and her voice cracked. “My sister, Isabel.”
He moved forward and took her hands again. “Isabel. What a beautiful name. Tell me about your sister, Callie.” Again he was surprising her. He wasn’t hitting her with a barrage of questions, he was just giving her an open invitation to talk.
“I can’t,” she whispered, as
a single tear slid down her cheek. This was just too hard.
He reached up and caught it in his fingertips. “Yes, you can.”
* * *
Everything had just changed color for Sawyer. He already knew her sister must be dead. The look on her face had said it all and the hairs currently standing on end at the back of his neck agreed.
He could see how much she was struggling. He could tell she wanted to run from the room like a frightened rabbit. She’d barely been able to get the words out.