and then he pushed in again. She could feel her body working with his as her muscles tightened against him, and he responded by moving more deeply inside. She felt panicky as the surges of pleasure started to build and she couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the release that was coming so quickly. She teetered on the edge, trying to hold on, trying to prolong the intimacy and connection between them.
“Kate, trust me, let go.” His words, accompanied by almost complete withdrawal and a deep thrust, sealed her fate as she finally broke eye contact, closing her eyes and arching her back as she climaxed and tears of release streamed down her face. Her first aftershock was almost as powerful as her orgasm and was joined by a growl from Matt as he buried his head against her and cried out as she felt him spill into her.
She struggled to catch her breath, but equally calmly savored the weight of him collapsed against her. His lips brushed against her cheek, tasting the saltiness of her tears. She wasn’t sure how long they remained that way, contented and too spent to move.
The shrill of her pager startled them both. Matt pulled out and away from her and she felt instantly bereft. The second beep focused her attention on the little black box that was still clipped to her jeans, lying discarded on the bedroom floor. She moved off the bed and unclipped the device, pushing the solitary button and registering the number of the emergency department.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. She found the portable phone and dialed the number, her back turned towards Matt.
“It’s Dr. Spence. I was paged to this number.”
“It’s Ryan Callum.” Dr. Callum was one of the senior emergency attending physicians, and if her alarm hadn’t been raised before, it was now.
“Kate, I’m calling about Chloe Darcy. During her shift tonight she was found unconscious in the doctors’ change room.” Any self-conscious feeling she had about standing naked answering a page faded in place of fear as her heart started pounding in her chest and the blood seemed to drain from her body.
“Oh, my God.” She slumped down onto the edge of the bed. “Where is Chloe now?” It was hard to contain her panic. This wasn’t a patient, this was her best friend.
“She’s in Section A of the emergency department. Kate, I’m calling because you are listed as her emergency contact on her health forms.”
“I’ll be right there.” Section A was not good. If Chloe had just fainted from exhaustion or low blood sugar she would be in a lower acuity part of the department. Section A was reserved for critical patients requiring continuous monitoring and one-on-one care.
She stood, turned and collided with Matt, her naked body flattening against him. He had pulled on his underwear and jeans, but his shirt was still in the living room. His arms reached around to steady her and then quickly released her. He handed her a robe, which she batted away, and then he left the bedroom as she searched for new clothing. In less than thirty seconds she was ready and in the living room, where Matt stood holding the front door of the apartment open.
“I’m driving you.” It was not a request, it was a statement, and she found herself grateful for his decisiveness as she was feeling more panicky than she could ever remember feeling.
She was gripped with fear as Matt sped towards the hospital. She couldn’t talk, her thoughts stuck on repeat in her head. Chloe was her best friend, her rock. Chloe had gotten her through Matt’s abandonment. Chloe had supported her through the breakup with Tate. But where had she herself been when Chloe had needed her? She had been self-destructing with Matt. Guilt coursed through her, thinking of the pleasure she had been experiencing while Chloe had been lying unconscious, waiting to be found.
Her friend had not been herself the other day. Kate had noticed that she had looked tired and pale, but Chloe had reassured her that it was just a virus. Kate had been so wrapped up in her own problems she hadn’t taken the time Chloe had needed, like a good friend, like a good doctor, should have. Her mind raced as she established the differential diagnosis for viral illness and syncope. For a healthy woman to be in a critical condition it either had to involve her cardiac, respiratory or neurological systems, or a combination of them. If it was her heart, that would mean myocarditis and inflammation of the heart, leading to abnormal rhythms or, worse, a cardiomyopathy or valve damage, leading to permanent disability. If it was respiratory, then it would be an aggressive coronavirus like the SARS outbreak a few years back that had led to the deaths of many health care workers. If it was neurological, then it would be meningitis, which could lead to permanent neurological impairment.
“Stop.” Matt’s voice broke through her thoughts. She turned and looked at him, though his eyes didn’t leave the road. “She’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that,” Kate replied in a scared whisper. She wanted in her heart to believe what Matt was saying, but rationally she knew that there was no way to predict sometimes what would happen. She had been in medicine long enough to understand that bad things happened to good people for no reason at all, and Chloe was the best person she knew.
Before they could talk more, Matt pulled into the emergency room loading dock. She took one glance at him, and heard him tell her to go as She jumped out of the car. She raced through the automatic doors and through the emergency department to Section A. She reached the large, wall-mounted computer screen that tracked patients, searching for Chloe’s identifier. She saw 30F listed under room four, thirty-year-old female—that would be Chloe. She controlled the desire to keeping running, and walked quickly to room four.
She wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted her. The room was empty but not cleaned. Her eyes darted around as her mind pieced together the information her eyes were processing. The stretcher was gone, so that meant that Chloe was somewhere in the hospital, having been transported on said stretcher. The floor was smeared with blood, not a lot of blood but enough. The rapid transfuser was in the room, a sign that Chloe had required a blood transfusion. In the sink she saw several empty IV bags, more evidence of vascular collapse. The scene before her was compatible with only two scenarios. One was a severe viral infection, leading to hemolytic anemia and septic shock. The other was hypovolemic shock secondary to acute blood loss. Either way, Chloe was very, very sick.
She left the room and her eyes searched the unit for Ryan Callum, but she couldn’t see him. When she didn’t immediately see anyone who would be useful in helping her locate Chloe, she left the department with a list of three possible locations in mind. Radiology, Intensive Care Unit, or the operating room. Chloe had to be in one of those locations.
She went to the main floor radiology unit first. The one benefit of doing nothing but work for the past four and a half years was that everyone in the hospital recognized her, even out of scrubs, and was quick to provide her with the information she wanted. Chloe wasn’t in Radiology, neither was she in the intensive care unit. That left the operating room and Kate’s fear increased. She went to the OR change room, put on scrubs and covered her hair to allow herself access to all areas.
It was after hours, which meant that only a few of the operating theatres were still running. She walked the hall, looking for activity and lights. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Tate staring through the small rectangular window of an operating-room door.
He didn’t notice her. He just stared, transfixed, through the window.
“Tate,” she said quietly, as she placed a hand on his shoulder.
He didn’t turn to look at her, keeping his eyes glued on the window. “I think she’s stabilizing. They kicked me out of the room, so I can’t tell for sure. But they have stopped calling for blood and I can see the anesthesia
