Second Chances: The Seahaven Series - Book One (9 page)

Danny's all ears as he drives down the highway. He loves these stories and so do I. Paramedics trade field war stories like kids swap trading cards—we can't get enough. We collect them and we learn from them, and a lot of the time laugh our heads off about them.

“So we pull up to this driveway, we're first on scene, and we see the woman sitting in the driver's seat, her fingers in a white-knuckle death grip on the wheel. We approach the car cautiously, looking around for a gunman or anything suspicious. Her window is cracked, so Ant says into it, 'Ma'am, have you been shot, ma'am?' And she keeps looking straight ahead, and she's scared and weepy, and she says, 'I think so.'

“I'm looking around at the car windows, the windshield, and there aren't any bullet holes. Okay, maybe the bullet came in through the crack in the window and is lodged in her, which is even more dangerous.

“I say, 'Ant, bullet's still in her.' We hear the police siren coming from a couple blocks away. I say, 'Where are you shot, ma'am?' And she says, 'Back of my head, I think.' I keep hearing her say 'I think,' but maybe she's just in shock.

“Ant shines his flashlight at the back of her head and I say, 'Are you in pain?' And she says, 'I don't want to move.' And I say again, 'Are you in pain?' and she shakes her head no a tiny bit. Ant shines his light around the car and there are five bags of groceries in the back seat.

“I say, 'Do you know who did this to you, ma'am?' And she shakes her head no a little bit again.”

Danny is totally riveted and looks like he can't wait to hear the punchline. “And?” he demands.

“After that Ant nudges me with his elbow. He shines a light on the back of her head, and there's nothing. No bullet, no blood. She's got one of those hairdos where you'd be able to see if a bullet hole was in there. Then he shines his light onto the backseat, where there is a big, open, popped container of crescent rolls sitting on top of the bag.”

I look over at Danny and let it sink in. “And?” he says.

“Have you ever made rolls from a tube?” I ask him.

He nods his head. “Yeah, like dinner rolls, where you crack the tube and it pops really loud and then you pull them apart and put...” He looks at me. “The pop?”

“The pop,” I say. “The tube popped loud like a gun in the back seat, the lid at the end of the tube flew off, hit her in the back of the head, and she'd been sitting there for an hour thinking she was shot and bleeding to death.”

“Oh, damn!” says Danny, laughing so hard he has to cover his mouth. “Oh no, wait, what did neuro trauma do since you called ahead?”

“They heckled the shit out of me,” I say. “It took them about a year to stop saying 'Are you sure it's a head injury and not a bread injury?' when I called something in.”

Danny laughs and slaps the steering wheel. “Oh man, that's a good one. That must have sucked! The humiliation!”

“Just doing my job,” I say, and smile.

“Always above and beyond,” he says.

The radio crackles to life and the 9-1-1 dispatcher comes on. “All units, possible CI at eight-six-one Temple Street. Please respond.”

I take the radio from its cradle and press the talk button. “Unit nine-three responding.” I put the street address into the GPS but Danny's already heading in the right direction, taking a shortcut to get us there faster. I flip the lights on.

“You know it?” I ask him.

“I know where it is,” he says, “and I think I know whose house it is. You remember Joe Peretti, the farmer who used to have that fruit stand?”

“Yeah, the pumpkin guy. The school field trip guy.”

“I think it's him. We're good for paddles, meds, everything we'll need for heart intervention, right?”

“Right,” I say. “It's ready. I'm ready.”

“Me, too,” says Danny. “Let's go save the pumpkin farmer.”

A few minutes later we pull up to the curb, and Danny's right, it's Joe Peretti's house. I move quickly to the door holding the portable defibrillator and knock loud. “Paramedics!” I call out. No answer. Danny comes up beside me.

“It's the right address,” he says. “Maybe he called 9-1-1 and passed out. Let's go around and see if there's another way in.”

We split up and go around his house, checking doors and windows. I hear Danny calling into the EMS center. “Can you confirm the caller?” he asks. Silence. He's listening. “Elderly man, 80s, in distress. Anyone else at home?” I hear another pause while I try to push up a window. I hear him say, “Okay, thanks.”

He finds me trying to open the back door. “He called 9-1-1 himself. I don't think anybody else is in there. We've got to get inside.”

Danny and I have tried all the doors and windows and they're all locked, so I aim the corner of the defibrillator kit at the backdoor window. “Stand back,” I say. Danny turns his body away from it and I smash the kit against the window and it shatters. I reach in and unlock the door from the inside.

“Nice trick,” he says.

Danny and I go inside the house, flipping on lights.

“Mr. Peretti!” Danny yells. We listen as we walk through. Nothing.

“Joe!” He calls. Still nothing. We round the bend to the back bedroom, and there's Mr. Peretti on the floor next to the bed, one hand on his chest, his other hand on the phone.

We rush over and drop down next to him. Danny gets the defibrillator ready, flipping switches and applying gel to the shock pads. While he does it I check Mr. Peretti's pulse and breathing. Nothing. I pull up an eyelid and shine a light into his pupil. It is fixed, no response.

“Ready, clear!” says Danny, ready to resuscitate.

I look at him. I shake my head.

Danny puts down the paddles. He sighs heavily and sits back on his heels. “Damn.” He says. He makes the sign of the cross. Then he takes out his radio and calls it in.

I wipe off the paddles and put them back into the defibrillator unit and listen to Danny making the report to EMS. Then I hold one of Mr. Peretti's hands in my own. I look at his now-peaceful face and hope he wasn't in too much pain. I hope his children will be able to lean on each other and find comfort from each other in the coming weeks and months. I hope they'd said everything they needed to say.

I hope his children will have good memories of him.

Danny and I wait for the Coroner to arrive, and then we silently climb into the ambulance and head back to the hospital to wait for our next call. This is our least favorite part of the job, the times where we can't do anything, where what's done is done, and mother nature doesn't care about how trained we are to save lives and how much we want to help. We're at her mercy when she has other plans.

Chapter Fifteen

When my shift ends I find myself lingering at the hospital. I'm tired and hungry, and I really want to see Matt. Even if he has other plans, just seeing him will be good right now.

I sit in my car near the ER parking lot and open the mirror on the back of my sun visor. I study my face. I look weary and exhausted. I'm not always sure what Matt likes about my face, but I'm happy he does. I know I could look at his all day, every day. I'm still feeling a little uneasy about how quickly I'm falling, about how much I need him right now.

As I'm wrestling with my doubts, he walks through the automatic double doors wearing his street clothes with his bag slung over his shoulder. My heart does a doubletake. I roll down the window and stick my head out. He sees me and smiles wide, which is quickly becoming my favorite thing ever. He walks over to me.

“Been here long?” he asks.

“My shift just ended,” I say. “I was thinking about inviting you to breakfast.”

“Oh yeah? What decision'd you come to?”

I tap my cheek like I'm weighing my options. “On the one hand, I would have to go to breakfast with you, and on the other hand, I wouldn't get to have breakfast with you. It seems very clear that you should come with me.”

“You driving?” he asks.

“Climb in,” I say.

He comes around to the passenger side of the car and climbs in. He checks out the car.

“Nice ride,” he says as he tries to fit his tall frame in comfortably. “Very clean and compact.”

“Well,” I say, “This is just my Thursday car. If I'd picked you up yesterday it would have been the Benz. Tomorrow it's the Jaguar, which I'm sure will have more leg room for you.”

I pull out of the parking lot and we make our way off of hospital grounds. He hasn't kissed me yet, and I'm starting to understand that he's serious about the no-fraternizing rule. I think back to the beginning, when he wouldn't acknowledge me in front of hospital colleagues after we'd spent the night together, and how after that perp choked me and Matt knocked him out he was caring, but not affectionate with me in front of everyone.

I'm pretty sure that technically we're not breaking the rules since I'm employed by Emergency Services and he's employed by the hospital, but it's not black and white. Other employees might not see it that way, so he's trying to keep it off their radar. I get it. Also, if I said there wasn't an element of excitement to nobody knowing about it except he and I, I'd be lying. The fact that all the nurses are throwing their bras at the hot Aussie doctor but I'm the one he loves definitely adds a little thrill factor.

We turn off of hospital grounds and stop at a red light. He puts his hand on my thigh and runs it up in between my legs. I close my eyes and smile.

“You're going to make me run into a tree,” I say.

He points to an apartment complex at the next turn. “Feel like looking at an apartment?” he asks. “I hear they have excellent parking facilities.” His fingers move higher and he starts to knead me through my dress. It's all I can do to really not run into a tree.

I pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex and find a corner spot, one the farthest away from the buildings and other cars. Both of us take a quick glance around, but I honestly don't care who sees us right now. I just want to feel him inside me.

“Come here,” he says.

I climb over the center console and onto his lap. He takes my face in his hands and brushes my lips with his thumb. Then he puts his hands under my shirt and feels my breasts, pulling my nipples.

I reach down and unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants. I find the hole in his boxer shorts and bring his cock up through them so it's ready for me. I put my hand around the base of it and slide it slowly up and down a few times, making him moan.

He pulls my skirt up around my hips, pushes my underpants to the side, and puts himself inside me. I lean into him, groaning in pleasure. He buries his face in my chest, and then finds my mouth and kisses me, his tongue warm and moving.

His hands stay on my hips, pushing me down onto him as he thrusts up. He is so deep. He takes one hand off a hip and finds my clit again, rubbing in circles as I rock up and down on him. This sexually multi-tasking man is about to make me come.

I say breathlessly, “I'm going to—” and he says, “Me, too—” and then we both explode into each other. We keep moving together slowly even after it's over.

“Good God, woman,” he says. “What are you doing to me?”

I smile and smooth stray strands of hair out of his face. I say, “It's more like what are we doing to each other.” Then I start to climb off him, but he stops me.

“Don't. Not yet.”

So we sit there, staring at each other, sweating. Him still inside me.

“Will there ever come a point where we can tell our co-workers about us?” I ask.

He smiles and hangs his head. “You noticed I'm being a little careful about it, did you?”

I nod. “I am, too. It's okay.”

Now he brushes my hair back. “The hospital has rules, and I wouldn't want to lose my job, and I wouldn't want you to lose your job.”

“I remember how adamant you were about it the very first time I met you, when Danny was in the ER for the dog bite. How you thought he was my boyfriend and you let me know in no uncertain terms that it was against the rules to work together and be involved. It was pretty clear then.”

“Well,” he says, sheepishly, “I'm not sure that's all there was to it. Normally I'm not quite that concerned about two paramedics looking intimate.”

I stare him in the eyes. “Are you saying, Doctor, that you were on my case that night because you were jealous?”

“I walked in, I saw you, and... I was done. I was barely rational after that. I was probably speaking in tongues.”

I laugh. “I think a couple of people called you a jerk for being so harsh, including me.”

“A jerk!” he cries, pretending to be hurt.

“And I was so confused, being mad and aroused by you all at once,” I say.

“Really? Aroused?” he says, tracing a line down my sternum with his finger and shifting his pelvis so I can feel it.

“But I don't think anybody noticed anything. So at least your professional reputation is intact.”

He brings his face closer to mine. “And how about my personal reputation?” he says.

I look at his perfect, full lips and I kiss them. “A+. I'm starving.”

“Then to pancakes!” he says. And we disentangle, laughing together at our post-sex car gymnastics.

* * *

We go to Mort's, a breakfast place far enough from the hospital where the odds are good no one will see us. I'm feeling relaxed, tired, and happy, and now that we're eating I'm feeling even better. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes all around. I'm trying to resist the buttery toast, but I can't.

“Screw it,” I say. And with a big mouthful admit happily, “I love bread.”

Matt stuffs a piece in his mouth and says, “Me, too,” around it.

We're laughing and eating when I look up as the door jingles. A man pauses, takes off his sunglasses and looks around the restaurant.

It's Paul.

I stop laughing abruptly and shrink into myself.

What is he doing here?

Freshly ex-husbanded Paul in my town, in this restaurant, at this hour, probably because he figures I've been working the night shift. He's looking for me. He might even have followed me.

Shit, I say in my head. Shit, shit, shit.

“Ellie, what's wrong?” asks Matt, reaching across the table for my hand.