12. Lucinda

12

LUCINDA

D r. Everett pushed through the hospital's double doors, her crisp white coat trailing behind her. The main lobby buzzed with the usual chaos: patients, nurses, and doctors moving about with practiced efficiency. The noise and frenetic energy had become a familiar backdrop for Lucinda, but today, it felt strangely distant.

Her mind was elsewhere. It had been a week since her explosive breakup with Becky. The fire of their passion had burned hot and fast, consuming everything in its path before leaving her in the cold, empty aftermath. The confrontation at the café had left her reeling. Despite her usual ability to compartmentalize, she lost herself in thinking about Becky more often than she cared to admit.

Lucinda had thrown herself into her work, hoping that drowning herself in her responsibilities would ease the pain. The adrenaline of emergency medicine was a welcome distraction, but it didn’t fully erase the sting of the breakup.

When she finally made it to her office, her assistant, Clara, stood, handing Lucinda a chart. "Thank goodness. There's an emergency in the ER. All hands on deck."

Lucinda frowned. Major emergencies were common, but Clara’s urgent voice made her stomach tighten. "When did they come in?"

"Ten minutes ago."

She quickly reviewed the patient details—multiple victims from a fire, including a firefighter. Lucinda inhaled sharply. It wasn't Becky or Ember, was it? Her heart raced as she made her way to the trauma bay.

The emergency room was abuzz with activity as Lucinda arrived. Several gurneys had been rolled in, each carrying a victim of the fire. The team was already hard at work, but Lucinda knew her presence would make a difference .

“Dr. Everett,” a nurse called out, hurrying to her side. “We’ve got three critically injured patients, including a firefighter with severe burns and smoke inhalation. The fire chief—Becky Thompson—is with them.”

Lucinda’s breath caught in her throat. The name echoed in her mind, and she struggled to keep her composure. At least Becky wasn't injured. But Lucinda hadn’t expected their paths to cross so soon, let alone under these circumstances. Her heart sank at the thought of seeing Becky in distress. The memory of her running into the med tent when Ember was injured passed through her mind.

Lucinda steeled herself and moved to the nearest trauma bay where the patients were being assessed. The firefighter, a young woman with severe burns on her arms and legs, was being stabilized by the team. Lucinda quickly took charge, issuing orders and assessing the severity of the injuries.

“Burns on forty percent of her body,” Lucinda noted, her voice steady. “We need to start with fluid resuscitation and pain management. Prepare for debridement and transfer to the burn unit. ”

As the team worked, Lucinda could hear the sounds of the ongoing chaos from the other trauma bays. Her focus was razor-sharp, but the background murmur of voices and the sight of Becky through the glass window of the adjacent trauma bay kept drawing her attention.

Becky was pacing anxiously, her face etched with worry as she spoke with the medical staff. The sight of her, so vulnerable and out of her element, stirred a mixture of emotions in Lucinda: guilt, regret, and a deep-seated longing.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Lucinda’s team worked tirelessly, stabilizing patients and ensuring that they were ready for the next phase of treatment. Just as Lucinda finished coordinating the transfer of the critically injured patients to the burn unit, Becky approached her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her posture had a palpable tension that made Lucinda nervous.

“Dr. Everett,” Becky said.

How odd hearing her professional name on Becky's tongue. It was real, then.

"I just wanted to thank you. You and your team, of course. Wilson wouldn't be here without you," Becky said steadily.

Lucinda looked at Becky, the pain of their last conversation still fresh in her mind. She took a deep breath, her professional demeanor masking the turmoil she felt inside. “Chief, you don’t need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

Becky nodded, her cheeks tinting red. "Right. Yeah, I know. But this crew is like family to me, and seeing them hurt like this…it’s hard.”

Lucinda softened slightly, allowing a moment of vulnerability to show. “I understand. We’ll do everything we can to make sure they get the care they need.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence between them. Lucinda could sense the unspoken words hanging in the air, the unresolved feelings that neither of them had fully addressed.

“Can we talk later?” Becky finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe after things settle down?”

Lucinda hesitated, torn between her professional responsibilities and her personal emotions. She glanced at the nurses moving patients in the ER and then back at Becky. “I have a lot of work to do right now, but later, yes.”

Becky smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be here for a while. Whenever you’re ready.”

As Becky walked away, Lucinda felt a pang of regret. The intense focus she’d maintained throughout the crisis had helped her keep her emotions in check, but now, the weight of her feelings for Becky hit her with full force.

She didn't want to break things off. In fact, she wanted to grip Becky and never let her go. But Lucinda wasn't made for love. She was made for work, and she was made for work alone.

With a sigh, Lucinda returned to her duties, coordinating with the burn unit and ensuring that the remaining patients received the necessary care. Hours passed in a blur of activity, her mind half on her work and half on the conversation she knew she needed to have with Becky.

Eventually, as the emergency situation began to wind down, Lucinda found a moment to step outside and take a deep breath. The night air was excellent, a stark contrast to the heat of the trauma bays. She leaned against the wall, her thoughts swirling.

"Hey."

Lucinda looked up from the concrete to see Becky standing awkwardly under the pale yellow light of the door. “Chief.”

“Is this a good moment for you or...?"

Lucinda hadn't seen Becky act this uncomfortable since the first time they had met. She didn't like it; it didn't suit her.

Lucinda nodded. “Yes. Let's talk."

Becky fidgeted with her hands, clearly nervous. “I wanted to apologize for how things ended. I didn’t handle things well, and I'm sorry I was so...cruel. But I also wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. And I realize I don't understand what you are going through.”

Lucinda’s eyes softened. “It wasn’t just about the breakup, Becky. It’s about everything that led up to it. I didn’t want to be in a relationship where I felt like I was constantly on edge, waiting for things to fall apart. I care about you and don't want to see you dragged down into my mess."

Becky blew out a sigh. The moment of shared vulnerability had not brought the clarity she had hoped for. If anything, it had deepened her confusion and anger.

"So what now?" Becky asked, her voice edged with frustration. "You say you care, but then you push me away. I don't understand, Lucinda. I'm willing to—" She stopped herself and shook her head. "No, I'm not getting into this again. I just wanted to apologize for my temper, that's all."

Becky turned to walk back into the hospital, but Lucinda didn't want to see her go. Hell, she wanted to kiss her; she wanted to keep fighting with her; she wanted to do anything to keep that feeling of loneliness at bay.

"I don’t have all the answers, Becky. I think we both aren't ready for something like this." Lucinda looked at Becky, her face a mask of professional detachment. The warmth she had shown earlier seemed to have vanished.

Becky turned and walked right up to Lucinda. "Don't put words into my mouth. I was willing to go slow. I want to help you through this, baby." Becky's hand grazed Lucinda's cheek, her eyes filled with longing.

It almost broke her; she nearly pulled Becky to her mouth. She would have snuck her into her office and let Becky fuck her on the desk. Lucinda would have let Becky take her home so they could make breakfast to soft jazz and have several thousand sweet kisses. But she knew she couldn't have that .

Lucinda’s tone hardened. "I didn't ask for your help." She pulled away, and Becky let her. "We're done."

"How can you be so cold?" Becky hissed.

And there it was—Lucinda's curse that she could never escape. She was surprised Becky had lasted this long, and disappointment thrummed through her.

"I'm not being cold. I'm just trying to be realistic. Our relationship has been complicated from the start, and I think we need to accept that maybe we’re not right for each other."

Becky’s tone was acidic. "Not right for each other? You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re not right for each other. But don’t pretend like you’re the one who’s got it all figured out. You’re the one who couldn’t handle things when they got tough."

Lucinda’s face remained impassive, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resolve and sadness. "It’s not about figuring things out perfectly. It’s about understanding our limitations and respecting them. I don’t think I’m in a position to offer you what you need right now."

Becky’s hands clenched into fists. "And what exactly do I need, Lucinda? "

"Constant attention." She let the comment hang in the air before she continued. "I want you to understand that this isn’t easy for me either. I’m dealing with my shit, and right now, I need to focus on my work and my own well-being."

Lucinda’s expression remained distant. She continued, "I think it’s best if we take some time apart. If we’re meant to be together in the future, we’ll find our way back. But for now, this is what I need."

Becky’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "You know what? Fine. If you want to shut me out and be distant, that’s your choice. But don’t expect me to walk away without feeling like I’ve been pushed aside. At the end of the day, I just wanted to care for you."

With that, Becky turned on her heel and walked toward the exit. Lucinda watched her go, feeling a pang of regret but maintaining her cold, composed exterior. The distance between them was a chasm that seemed impossible to traverse.

Lucinda stayed glued to the brick wall, feeling that if she tried to step away, she would topple over. She had tried to maintain her professionalism, but it had come at the cost of her personal feelings.

As Lucinda returned to her duties, her thoughts were a jumble of unresolved emotions. Why did she feel like this? Breaking things off with Iris hadn't felt this traumatic, and Iris had actually been her girlfriend.

The night wore on, and the hospital continued its relentless pace. Lucinda threw herself into her work, trying to push aside the lingering taste of regret and confusion. She had made her decision, and now she had to live with the consequences, even if it meant confronting the reality of her broken relationship with Becky.

Lucinda’s office, usually a sanctuary of order and calm, now felt like a cage of her own making. She closed the door behind her with a weary sigh and sank into her chair, staring blankly at the chaotic assortment of files and medical charts cluttering her desk. That's how terrible she felt; she had let her life become disorganized.

The piles of paperwork that had accumulated during the emergency needed attention. She began to sift through the documents with shaking hands, her mind still replaying the words exchanged with Becky. She took a deep breath and tried to tidy the papers, but something cracked within her. A hurt sob tumbled from her mouth as she sank to the floor.

She felt like the devil. Her curse was to freeze as many hearts as possible, leaving only destruction in her path. Lucinda wanted to be loved so badly, but it never worked—and it never would.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Clara. She sniffed as she glanced at the screen.

Clara: Dr. Everett, just a reminder about the board meeting tomorrow afternoon. Don’t forget the new trauma protocols review.

Lucinda’s mind was barely engaged with the message, so she threw her phone at the wall and cracked the screen. She didn't care.

She glanced at the clock; it was already past midnight. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs, but her mind refused to quiet. She needed to process what had transpired, and working might be the only way to distract herself from the whirlwind of emotions. She forced herself to tackle the paperwork, fill out patient reports, and review case studies from earlier in the day. The repetitive tasks provided a small measure of solace, but the work itself felt hollow.

At around 2 a.m., her phone rang again. This time, it was a call from the hospital’s head of surgery, Dr. Mars. “Dr. Everett, I know it’s late, but we have a situation. One of our burn victims from tonight’s incident has developed complications. We need a consult.”

Lucinda’s heart raced again, this time from a different kind of adrenaline. She pushed aside her turmoil and donned her professional mask. “I’ll be right there.”

The burn unit was a stark environment, with its own harsh lights and sterile smell. Lucinda walked briskly through the corridors. She found Dr. Mars waiting for her in the unit, her face lined with concern.

“Dr. Everett,” she said, greeting her with a nod. “The patient’s condition has worsened. We’re dealing with severe infections and respiratory distress. I need you to lead this.”

Lucinda nodded, her clinical mind taking over. She examined the patient, the young firefighter who had been among those brought in earlier. The extent of the complications was severe, but Lucinda’ s years of experience in trauma care had prepared her for such situations.

She issued a series of commands to the team, coordinating treatment and adjusting medications. Her focus was absolute, her professionalism unshaken. Hours slipped by as she worked tirelessly, the intensity of the case consuming her thoughts. The problem-solving aspect of medicine, the technicalities, the urgency—these were familiar territories, and they offered a welcome distraction from her personal distress.

Lucinda could tell Dr. Mars was studying her out of the corner of her eye. Did she know about her and Becky? She had to, being Becky's best friend. She pushed the thought away. It wasn't her business.

By the time the situation stabilized, the sun was beginning to rise. Lucinda was physically and mentally drained but relieved that she had managed to turn a dire situation around. She scrubbed out, her hands feeling raw from the repeated washing, and took a moment to collect her thoughts. The burn unit was quieter now, and the crisis was averted for the moment.

The air was cool and crisp. Early morning dew settled on the lawn outside the hospital. The fresh air eased her mind slightly.

Lucinda decided that she needed to clear her head and regain some sense of normalcy. She texted Clara, asking her to schedule some time off in the coming months. The intensity of the last week had taken its toll, and she realized she needed a break, if only to reassess her own life and emotions away from the chaos of the hospital.

In the following days, Lucinda threw herself into her work with renewed vigor. She participated in meetings, reviewed trauma protocols, and addressed ongoing cases with a sharp focus. Yet even as she tried to immerse herself in her professional responsibilities, the personal turbulence of her breakup with Becky lingered in the background.

The board meeting she had initially forgotten about was a grueling session that demanded her full attention. Discussions about new trauma protocols and hospital policies required detailed input from her, and Lucinda found herself in the role of a leading authority. Her input was valued, and her expertise was acknowledged, but her internal struggle with her personal life made it difficult for her to engage with her colleagues fully .

When she returned to her empty apartment in the evenings, the silence was overwhelming. Lucinda had always thrived on action and interaction, and the quiet of her home felt like an echo chamber for her unresolved feelings. She would sit by the window, staring into the night, hoping Becky would knock on her door.

One evening, feeling particularly drained, she decided to take a walk. The familiar paths around her neighborhood offered a semblance of peace. As she walked, she pondered the possibility of starting fresh. Moving someplace else, starting anew.

I need someone who can face challenges with me, not someone who runs away.

She realized this was her pattern. When things got tough, when everything became too overwhelming, she would run. She did it with Iris and her ex-fiancée Claire.

In the end, Lucinda knew that the path forward would require patience. She had given everything to her work and patients, but she also needed to give herself the grace to heal and understand her own heart. Her days were filled with the noise of the hospital and the demands of her role as the head of trauma, but her nights were spent grappling with the echoes of past love and the uncertainty of the future.

Love?

Where had that word come from? Love was passion. Love was fire. Love was warm and all-consuming. And all Lucinda would ever know was ice and emptiness.