13. Brett

Chapter 13

Brett

When you go into the medical field, it's pretty much a given that there will come a time when one of your patients will pass. It doesn't matter what area of medicine you're in, it's going to be your reality. And working in the hospital, the odds increase because you're not seeing people just coming in because they have an earache or because they need to get a refill on their suppressants.

At the emergency department, you're seeing people who, a lot of times, are in medical crisis. Sure, sometimes it's someone who panics over something that's no big deal, but for the most part, it's people who need to be seen and stat.

The thing is, even knowing that going into this profession with your eyes wide open, knowing that it's a very real possibility you'll be there when someone takes their last breath, nothing prepares you for it. Nothing gets you ready for the way your first patient loss tears your heart open, the way it has you questioning every decision you made, the way that memory will forever be seared upon your soul.

For me, I popped my cherry during college. I was shadowing a nurse, not even participating in much of anything yet. Aside from interacting with patients and taking their temperature, my job was to watch and learn, to discover what I was really getting into. And it did that, for sure.

I was there with Nurse Sandy for three shifts in a row. Mr. Lawson was the very first patient I met, and I genuinely liked the guy. It had been odd to call him mister. He was younger than me by a few years, barely out of high school.

He'd been hit with a baseball while watching his little brother's championship game—it wasn't even him playing. It was a freak accident, a foul ball popping back and smacking him straight in the temple. Everything looked like it was healing right, and that he was okay—all the scans, all the tests, all the indicators. He was talking, happy as can be. They were just keeping him for one more night, you know, to keep an eye on him, to make sure everything was fine.

Spoiler alert: Everything was not fine.

The next day, when I went in for my shift, he was gone from the floor, having crashed during the night. In a last ditch effort to save him, he was put in a medically induced coma and moved to the ICU. I didn't find out until two days later that he'd left this world.

I'd barely known the guy. I'd never truly worked with him other than a few sentences of chitchat after my introduction, and yet meeting him left an indelible mark on my heart.

You'd think the next loss would be easier on me, and the next one after that, and so on—that I'd somehow become immune to the pain. It never happened, and seeing the people who did get numb, I was glad for that. There was a coldness to them that no patient deserved.

One of the reasons that made shifts in the ER so much more difficult than my normal shifts was knowing this was a very real possibility every shift. Sure, it was true in all shifts, but the odds were higher that someone was going to come in to be seen too late, not realizing they had had a stroke, or not recognizing the signs of a heart attack or that they'd accidentally ingested one of their allergens, or had pneumonia that had crossed over to sepsis. There were so many different scenarios in the ER, and life was so fragile.

It still sucked and hurt deeply, but over the years, I'd figured out how to handle it, how to prepare myself, how to keep my guard up at least until I got home. Patients didn't need me at my worst. They deserved better.

At least I thought I had figured it out.

Today was different. Today, Mrs. Harrison left this world, and it hit me so much deeper than any loss I'd had in recent years. With her, I let my guard down. I let her get close. Heck, I talked to her about love and listened to her talk about her husband and their lives together. She was supposed to be going home tomorrow, and now, I guess, in a way, she was home—just not the one she'd planned to be at.

I finished my shift, did the shift change, and updated the system, making sure everything was dotted and crossed. The entire time, I was faking it, acting like it was no big deal. And each minute I did so made the pain stronger. It took all I had not to go into the supply closet, lock the door, and cry—letting it all out.

Finally it was time to leave. I wasn't even out of the building when I started dialing my mate. I just needed to hear his voice, needed to know that he was okay, to let him calm my beast. He picked up on the first ring.

"Just getting off?" His sleepy voice was adorable—not that I'd tell my sexy snow leopard that he was adorable—but he was.

"Getting off from work? Yeah. Not like getting off getting off—getting off."

His rich chuckle over the phone soothed me—slightly. Nothing could do so completely—not even Anders. It was going to take time.

"Hey, something feels off," he said, the sleepiness in his tone gone. I wasn't even in the same room with him, and he saw me.

"Yeah, it was just kind of a shitty day." I wasn't going to pretend to be strong for him. He wasn't my co-worker or a patient. He was my mate, and hiding things that mattered from him would never work out well.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." I reached my car and leaned against it, wanting to finish my phone call first. "I lost a patient."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. Do you want to come over?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do."

We'd been spending a lot of time at each other's houses. But even so, I hadn't wanted to push. It wasn't like I was going to be good company.

"I'll be there soon."

When I arrived, he was already outside waiting for me, and I barely made it out of the car before his arms wrapped around me and he held me tight. It was exactly what I needed.

"I got you, Brett, I got you," he whispered against the top of my head, and I let the tears finally come, sobbing into his shirt, sucking snot—basically being the grossness that was an emotional letdown.

"Come inside, let me shower you, get you something to eat, and then put you to bed."

"I'm not five." I forced a chuckle.

"No, you're not, but everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes."

And just like he promised me, he took me inside, set a nice hot shower, washed me from head to toe—ignoring the erection that his mere touch gave, knowing that wasn't what I needed—and when I was dried off and in a pair of his old sweats, he fed me apple pancakes, this time with peanut butter on top.

By the time he led me to bed, I was ready for sleep. He climbed in behind me, holding me close, telling me how special I was, how important I was to him, how much me being in his life meant to him, until I dozed off.

I slept for hours, and when I woke up, he was still there, keeping the bad dreams at bay.

"Thank you." I rolled to face him. "I needed this."

"I'm here for whatever you need. Always. And that includes if you want to talk about what happened."

"It was Mrs. Harrison…" He'd already heard about her in passing, but this time was different. It was as if I were keeping her alive by sharing her with the person who meant the most to me in this world.

Anders listened intently, asking questions along the way, opening doors for me to share more.

"She was lucky to have you in her life for the short time she did. Being in the hospital and all alone, that's rough. You made her less alone and treated her with dignity and compassion." He cupped my cheek. "She was so lucky to have you in her life."

"I feel the same about her." It was weird having such a connection, but I wasn't going to try to explain it away. Instead, I was going to cherish it.

"Want to run? I'll even let you win." He tapped my nose.

"You—let me?" I sat up. "As if." I made sure he was looking directly at me before rolling my eyes, even though I had already suspected he never ran full speed around me to keep our playtime… playful. "First one to the river gets a blow job."

"So you're saying everyone wins?"

"Yeah, everyone wins, alpha mine. Everyone wins."