force.”
“Is that really true?” Maureen asked with wide eyes.
“You bet,” Susan said. She turned to Alyssa. “Remember last month, Alyssa? When the police brought us that guy who’d stripped down to his bare butt while standing right in the middle of Main Street? Like, what were we supposed to do with him? Other than put his clothes back on.” Susan rolled her eyes at the memory.
Alyssa nodded and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, he was a strange one all right.”
Jadon clenched his jaw at their slightly derogatory tone. He wanted to snap at them to shut up because obviously people couldn’t help having emotional illnesses, but he also knew they didn’t mean any harm. Alyssa and Susan were excellent nurses.
He was just being overly sensitive. He turned away, to focus his attention on the two patients who were still waiting to be transferred up to inpatient floor beds. He needed to make sure these patients were placed before new ones began to arrive.
They received their first trauma call about thirty minutes later, a car versus tree. The driver was a young man who luckily didn’t have severe injuries. Jadon and Alyssa fell into a familiar rhythm, working together as if he’d never left. When she handed him a chest tube insertion tray, the slightest brush of her fingers sent an unexpected yet familiar tingle of awareness zipping through his system.
“Thanks,” he managed.
The way she avoided his direct gaze convinced him she might have felt it, too. This sizzling attraction had drawn them irrevocably together the first time they’d met. Tonight was proof the passing of time hadn’t lessened the attraction.
He still wanted her.
There wasn’t time to dwell on the knowledge because as soon as they managed to get the patient stabilized, it was as if a dam had burst, the way the patients flooded in.
Loud screaming erupted from the ED waiting room.
Jadon glanced up in alarm. “Stay here,” he told Alyssa as he dashed through the doors into the waiting area to see what was going on.
“Don’t touch me! Leave me alone! I can’t listen—Don’t touch me!”
A man stood in the center of the room, his eyes wild, his clothes disheveled, a three-day growth of beard covering his face. He grabbed at the hair on his head with one hand, while waving a butter knife clutched in the other. While the butter knife wasn’t sharp, it could still be used as a weapon and the few people in the waiting room were pressed against the back wall, giving the guy a wide berth.
“Easy, now,” Jadon said, waving a hand at the others to indicate everyone should stay back. He prayed Alyssa hadn’t followed him in. She was pregnant. He didn’t want her anywhere near this guy. “No one is going to touch you. I promise, no one is going to touch you.”
“I can’t. They won’t stop—I can’t listen. Don’t touch me.” The man was clearly in distress, and Jadon knew that if he didn’t help this man calm down, he might quickly turn violent.
And violence meant someone would get hurt.
Not Alyssa. Please, keep Alyssa safe from harm.
“No one is going to hurt you. You can relax now. I can help you. You’re safe here.” Jadon understood, only too well, that while this man seemed crazy, his wild actions were the result of a deep fear.
Fear of what, he wasn’t sure. Something the rest of them couldn’t see but that was very real to this man, nonetheless.
He continued to talk to the man holding the butter knife in a calm tone, reassuring him he was safe here. No matter how much he wanted to turn around and look for Alyssa, to make sure she was safe, Jadon didn’t break eye contact with the patient. And as he continued to talk him down, he hoped the hospital staff, including the security guards, were busy getting the other patients and their families out of the waiting room, just in case.
Psych crisis de-escalation techniques didn’t always work the way they were intended to. It paid to be prepared for anything.
“I’m here to help you. You’re safe here. My name is Jadon. What’s yours?”
“Mitch. Mitchell Park Conservatory. I’m Mitch, but I’m not crazy. I don’t have to listen.”
Jadon wasn’t sure if this guy’s name was really Mitch or not, as the Mitchell Park Conservatory was actually three horticultural domes that served as a local tourist attraction in Milwaukee, but he decided to go with it. “It’s nice to meet you, Mitch. You’re here in the safe zone where no one can hurt you. It’s my job to keep you safe. You’re not crazy. I think you’re scared. But you don’t have to be afraid. You’re safe with me.”
The more he repeated himself, and key phrases like You’re safe here with me, the better chance he had of convincing Mitch to calm down enough to let go of the butter knife. Jadon suspected Mitch was suffering from some form of schizophrenia, especially if he was really hearing voices in his head.
He wanted to hurry and get the guy some treatment, but rushing him would only make things worse, so he forced himself to take his time, to remain calm and to keep his gaze trained on Mitch, hyperaware of his every movement.
It took him nearly twenty minutes, but Mitch eventually gave up his knife and agreed to go into an examination room. Jadon steered him toward the opposite end of the emergency department where they could isolate him to a certain extent from the other patients.
“Nice job,” Alyssa said in a quiet voice, once he’d given Mitch a mild sedative, a similar dose, they’d discovered in going through his old records, to the one that he should have been taking at home.
“Thanks. I’m glad you stayed far away,” he admitted.
She frowned. “Of course. I’m not stupid.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean to say you were. I was just worried about you.”
Alyssa stared at him for a long moment and he wanted to pull her close and kiss her, but they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Not anymore. Finally she turned away and he heard her calling the psych crisis center for Mitch.
“See?” he heard Susan say to Maureen. “You thought we were kidding, didn’t you? I told you the crazies would be out. Mitch is a true nutcase.”
Her derogatory tone caused him to spin around, pinning her with a fierce glare. “He’s not crazy, he’s sick,” he said in a low, furious tone. “His illness isn’t any different from having diabetes or congestive heart failure. And I don’t want to hear you call him a nutcase again, do you understand?”
Susan’s eyes widened and she took a hasty step back, making him irritated all over again, especially when he realized Alyssa was staring at him with troubled concern. “Sure. I’m sorry, Dr. Reichert.”
Only slightly mollified, he turned away, continuing to see patients one after the other as the full moon kept its promise of keeping them busy.
Mitch had brought all Jadon’s old fears to the surface. He should stay far away from Alyssa, yet he couldn’t make himself. When he realized he was creating excuses to be near her, he knew Mitch wasn’t
