Shoot.
He hoped he wasn’t in trouble and on his first day. He didn’t want to get booted out of the course. Trainees weren’t supposed to do stuff like running toward an exploding tanker. Then another person entered the pantomime and George rolled his eyes.
Good. God.
“George!” Quinn came into the trauma room.
The ER doctor turned and looked. “Family member?”
“Yeah, brother-in-law.”
“Only physicians are allowed beyond this point,” she said, putting herself between him and Quinn.
“I’m a doctor. Dr. Quinn Devlyn.” Quinn pushed past her.
“Devlyn,” George said.
“I heard what you did.” Quinn shook his head and dragged his hand through his hair. “How am I going to explain that to Charlotte and Mentlana?”
“Don’t?” George was confused.
“Too late.”
“How the heck did you hear about it? Did my partner call you? Because, dude, no offense but you’re not my emergency contact.”
Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose. “You made the national news, you dolt. That’s how I found out.”
Damn.
“National news?” George rubbed his eyes with his good hand. “I’m in trouble.”
“You are that. Charlotte’s already called me three times and told me to get to the hospital and kick you in the butt, but also to kiss you. Just so we’re clear, I’m not doing that!”
George chuckled. “I appreciate it.”
Quinn sighed. “She doesn’t want Liv growing up without her uncle.”
George chuckled. “Would she prefer it if I dressed in bubble wrap on duty?”
“Your sisters worry about you,” Quinn said. “Your partner looks a bit miffed, though.”
George glanced over Quinn’s shoulder at Samantha, who was openly glaring at him again.
Double damn.
“When are you flying back up to Nunavut?” George asked.
“Tomorrow—why?”
“I may be joining you.” George moved his bandaged arm and winced.
“Was it a bad burn?” Quinn looked at Dr. Inkpen.
“No, not too bad.” She wrote the discharge information. “Take ibuprofen for the pain and just keep it clean and dry. I trust you know what you’re doing, George.”
George took the paper she handed to him.
“Thanks, Doctor.”
George tucked the discharge sheet into his pocket and climbed out of the chair they’d had him seated on while they’d examined his arm.
“She was cute,” Quinn remarked, nudging him in the ribs.
“Dude, are you trying to set me up now?”
Quinn grinned, but then he sobered. “We all worry about you. It’s been a year.”
George sighed.
He was painfully aware it had been a year.
He knew, because it was burned into his brain as freshly as the day it had happened.
“I don’t really want to think about that now.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. How about you buy me a drink before you leave?”
“You don’t drink.”
George snorted. “I feel like taking it up.”
“Well, then, you’re in luck. I think there are plenty of people who want to buy you a drink tonight!”
As George stepped into the hall he was met by a round of applause from paramedics, police and firefighters.
It was overwhelming. He hadn’t done anything all that spectacular. All he’d done had been to save a life.
Like all of them were taught to do.
George grinned, but it was forced and he hoped no one noticed as he shook countless hands. He didn’t like all the attention.
I SHOULDN’T BE HERE.
That was what Samantha kept telling herself, but somehow she got finagled into going to O’Shea’s Pub after George was released from the hospital.
Some of the other paramedics were buying him drinks as was that physician, George’s brother-in-law or something, and they were monopolizing his time.
Really, George should be at home getting rest.
You’re not his mother.
So she tagged along with the rest of the team to the pub, where George had everyone’s attention.
I should go home.
Although Adam was still with her in-laws and wasn’t due home for three more hours.
I should go home. Only it was lonely at home and even after ten years on her own the nights were long and unending.
Sleep didn’t come to her easily.
She ordered another whiskey sour and stared up at the television mounted on the wall, watching a replay of what had happened that day.
She hadn’t been aware that there had been press there but, then, she’d been focused on getting the injured to the hospital.
“I’ll have another iced tea.”
Samantha glanced to the side and saw George had come up beside her. “Iced tea?”
George shrugged. “I don’t drink and even if I did I shouldn’t be anyway, not after my burn.”
She was impressed. “Where is your physician brother-in-law?”
“Quinn? He went back to his hotel. He has an early flight back to Iqaluit.” George thanked the bartender and tried to slip him a five-dollar bill.
“Nah, man. It’s on the house,” the
