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Authors: Jean Brashear
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He was such a contradiction. “Thank you.” She glanced at her son. “Take notes, Thad. This is how a gentleman acts.”
Her son’s eyes went wide, but he simply nodded.
Tank took his seat, and the meal began. She sat in the middle of it and marveled.
This must be what normal felt like.
Jake yanked off his surgical mask, yawned really big and doubled over against the wall, stretching his aching back. Hours of surgery were hell on the skeleton; maybe he should check into that yoga class Laura had urged him to take.
He stepped away and arched, then lifted his arms high over his head.
He could sleep for a week. Twelve hours in the sack sounded like heaven. Wrapped around Laura, snuggled in their bed together—
Laura . What time was it? He pulled his cell from his pocket and strode from the surgical wing to remove himself from all the telemetry. Down the hall that divided operating rooms from ICU, through the double doors that barred entry except during brief visiting hours, past the ICU waiting room—
A figure all but mowed him down. A tearstained face greeted him. “Dr. Cameron? Are you Dr. Cameron?”
He barely had a chance to nod before the woman threw herself into his arms.
“Thank you—oh, thank you so much. My granddaughter—you saved her. My son said—” She burst into noisy sobs.
The parade through the intersecting hallway that was the main artery of the hospital continued, an orderly grinning at Jake’s discomposure, a nurse smiling, an EMT shaking his head as Jake awkwardly patted the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It was—” Nothing , he’d started to say.
But that was wrong. The surgery wasn’t as complex as many he’d done, but they had in fact saved the little girl’s life. Not just him, the whole team. Once more, pride swelled in him. What he was doing made a difference. This—moments like this, here in the beating heart of a trauma center, where events were so often balanced on a tenuous edge, hope off one side, agonizing loss off the other—
There was nothing like being sure that what you did mattered. That you could, with luck and skill, restore a person to those they loved. Battle death and win.
His hollow stomach, his tired feet, the exhaustion he’d felt for hours…all of them vanished in this one shining moment, and Jake closed his phone, stuck it in the case attached to his waistband—
And settled in to let the older woman cry it out.
Feeling like a million bucks.
Chapter Five
T ank didn’t get there until mid-morning. He’d already been up since before dawn, with too much to do that day and not enough hours. He’d doctored a calf and herded some of Ian’s cattle back onto his land. Then he’d fixed the broken section of fence between his spread and Ian’s.
In the past, he might have ripped into Ian for letting his cows through, but Ian had his hands full already. Tank didn’t have enough head of cattle to need to pasture this far over, while Ian had a thriving herd that required a lot of range.
But Tank hadn’t been unmoved by how close Ian had come to losing Scarlett and their baby. Even he could admit what a fine man Ian was. When the close-knit tribe that was the Four Horsemen had closed its ranks against him years before, Ian, though the leader of the crew, had never been the one who’d encouraged their ostracism.
Tank had been an asshole; he knew that now. He’d generated a lot of ill will as a boy and for years later. But at the time, he’d been a kid living in a nightmare, trying desperately to save his sister and mother from the man who tortured all of them. And he’d failed. Sometimes the sense of failure had been so overwhelming that Tank struck out, and the Four Horsemen provided an easy target, so smug in their limelight, so sure of themselves and their place in the universe that was Sweetgrass Springs.
They were heroes, and he was the villain. That simple. Everybody knew it, and Tank had accepted the verdict.
Her son’s eyes went wide, but he simply nodded.
Tank took his seat, and the meal began. She sat in the middle of it and marveled.
This must be what normal felt like.
Jake yanked off his surgical mask, yawned really big and doubled over against the wall, stretching his aching back. Hours of surgery were hell on the skeleton; maybe he should check into that yoga class Laura had urged him to take.
He stepped away and arched, then lifted his arms high over his head.
He could sleep for a week. Twelve hours in the sack sounded like heaven. Wrapped around Laura, snuggled in their bed together—
Laura . What time was it? He pulled his cell from his pocket and strode from the surgical wing to remove himself from all the telemetry. Down the hall that divided operating rooms from ICU, through the double doors that barred entry except during brief visiting hours, past the ICU waiting room—
A figure all but mowed him down. A tearstained face greeted him. “Dr. Cameron? Are you Dr. Cameron?”
He barely had a chance to nod before the woman threw herself into his arms.
“Thank you—oh, thank you so much. My granddaughter—you saved her. My son said—” She burst into noisy sobs.
The parade through the intersecting hallway that was the main artery of the hospital continued, an orderly grinning at Jake’s discomposure, a nurse smiling, an EMT shaking his head as Jake awkwardly patted the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It was—” Nothing , he’d started to say.
But that was wrong. The surgery wasn’t as complex as many he’d done, but they had in fact saved the little girl’s life. Not just him, the whole team. Once more, pride swelled in him. What he was doing made a difference. This—moments like this, here in the beating heart of a trauma center, where events were so often balanced on a tenuous edge, hope off one side, agonizing loss off the other—
There was nothing like being sure that what you did mattered. That you could, with luck and skill, restore a person to those they loved. Battle death and win.
His hollow stomach, his tired feet, the exhaustion he’d felt for hours…all of them vanished in this one shining moment, and Jake closed his phone, stuck it in the case attached to his waistband—
And settled in to let the older woman cry it out.
Feeling like a million bucks.
Chapter Five
T ank didn’t get there until mid-morning. He’d already been up since before dawn, with too much to do that day and not enough hours. He’d doctored a calf and herded some of Ian’s cattle back onto his land. Then he’d fixed the broken section of fence between his spread and Ian’s.
In the past, he might have ripped into Ian for letting his cows through, but Ian had his hands full already. Tank didn’t have enough head of cattle to need to pasture this far over, while Ian had a thriving herd that required a lot of range.
But Tank hadn’t been unmoved by how close Ian had come to losing Scarlett and their baby. Even he could admit what a fine man Ian was. When the close-knit tribe that was the Four Horsemen had closed its ranks against him years before, Ian, though the leader of the crew, had never been the one who’d encouraged their ostracism.
Tank had been an asshole; he knew that now. He’d generated a lot of ill will as a boy and for years later. But at the time, he’d been a kid living in a nightmare, trying desperately to save his sister and mother from the man who tortured all of them. And he’d failed. Sometimes the sense of failure had been so overwhelming that Tank struck out, and the Four Horsemen provided an easy target, so smug in their limelight, so sure of themselves and their place in the universe that was Sweetgrass Springs.
They were heroes, and he was the villain. That simple. Everybody knew it, and Tank had accepted the verdict.
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