combined with the smell of alcohol, permeated the room. Noah’s stomach roiled at the stupidity of such actions, especially on a night like this. But it wasn’t his job to be judgmental—it was his job to repair the damage.
“Anything else?” Karen asked.
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Have someone notify their parents. Now.”
Karen turned on her heels and sped out of the room, just as the lights flickered.
Everyone in the room seemed to freeze.
“Dammit, if that generator fails—” Noah’s eyes focused on the light fixtures, as if daring them to blink again.
“Don’t even think about that,” Amanda said in a rushed tone. “If it happens, we’ll deal with it then.”
Always the practical, unflappable Amanda, Noah reminded himself, except in bed. Damn! That thought had hit him out of the blue, which not only shocked him but made him madder than hell. Now was not the time to think about anything other than the young lives hanging in the balance.
“So what’s your call on him, Amanda?” Noah’s tone was hard and low.
“Get some CT scans.”
“Go for it.”
“Dr. Howell! The girl’s crashing.”
“Dammit,” Noah whispered, then barked more orders before adding, “Come on, let’s get her up to surgery.”
“Good luck,” he heard Amanda say as he and Liz left the room.
An hour later, Noah peeled off his bloody gloves and greens, then walked into the waiting room. A middle-aged couple stood and made their way toward him, as if in slow motion.
The petite, dark-haired woman, whose eyes were filled with unshed tears, was the spitting image of her daughter, or she had been until the accident.
“We’re the Colliers, Doctor,” the man said, holding out his hand to Noah.
“Our daughter, Laura, is she—” Mrs. Collier’s voice faded into sobs.
Her husband circled her shoulders and drew her close to his side, but his gaze never left Noah.
“I won’t try and soft-pedal the seriousness of the situation, Mrs. Collier. At the moment, she’s critical but stable. For now, that’s the best we can hope for.”
“Oh, God,” she cried, slumping against her husband.
Noah gestured toward the couch. “Let’s sit down, then we’ll talk.”
“Is Laura going to die?” Mr. Collier asked once they were seated.
Noah sat on the edge of the chair. “I’m sorry, but I can’t make that call. She has a lot of internal bleeding and numerous broken bones.”
“May we see her?”
Noah stood. “Of course. I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” Mr. Collier sighed. “I suppose the police will want to see us.”
“I would think so,” Noah said. Hoping to temper the stark, ugly reality, he added, “Remember, I’ll be around if you need me.”
He turned and made his way to his office, slamming the door behind him. He’d be lucky if he had five minutes to get a grip on himself. Already, he could hear another siren wail. Any second now, he’d be called again.
Meanwhile, he had to quell the urge to put his fist through one of the flimsy walls, venting his frustration. Some tragedies were unavoidable. But the accident involving those young people wasn’t one of them.
If Laura Collier made it through the night, she’d be one fortunate girl. More than likely she would not. Noah ground his teeth together while he rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about the devastation mirrored on the Colliers’ faces. God, he could identify with that kind of pain, and it wasn’t something he’d wish on his worst enemy.
With his thoughts veering into forbidden territory, he squeezed the back of his neck as though physical pain would obliterate the mental pain pounding his head.
The cot looked inviting as he forced his gaze onto something tangible. He was beat, but he’d have to forget about sleep and depend on coffee to keep him going. Anyway, who was he trying to kid? He could lie down, all right, but sleep would elude him; his demons would have a field day.
“Damn,” he muttered, hating it when he felt his control slipping. Peering at his watch, he hoped his mother was still at the lodge. In fact, he hoped she spent the night there, if they had the room. He hated the thought of her being on the road in this weather.
Unfortunately, he never knew which way Melissa was going to jump. One moment, she was a clinging vine who couldn’t do anything for herself. The next, she was as obstinate and unmovable as a block of cement. His father, who had died last year, had petted Melissa, encouraged her dependency.
Albert Howell, on his deathbed, had said, “Son, promise me my girls will never want for anything as long as you’re alive.”
His voice and body had been so weak from lying incapacitated for months with a dysfunctional heart, Noah had barely understood him.
“Dad—”
Albert’s clawlike fingers had clutched his arm, his eyes glazed with fear and pain. “Promise me.”
“Of course I’ll take care of them. You know that.”
Shortly after Noah had made that promise, his father had passed away. His mother, however, had made his good intentions difficult. She could be a royal pain in the butt with her penchant for living the good life, having put pressure for years on Albert to give her “things” when his job as a mechanic didn’t warrant that life-style.
Noah, to some extent, had continued to indulge his mother and his sister monetarily. That way he could remain aloof emotionally. Still, he cared deeply about them both.
Thinking about Randi jerked the knot in his stomach tighter. Where the hell had she gone? He had to believe she simply couldn’t handle marrying Hal and took off. But then again, where could she disappear to on this horrible night? He tried her phone again. Straight to voicemail.
Taking such a bold move was not like Randi. Now, if he, Noah, had pulled that stunt, no one would’ve been surprised. While he considered himself responsible—had to be when he held a scalpel in his hand—he was a gambler who wasn’t afraid to take chances.
Randi was not like that. His domineering and manipulative mother knew how to pull his sister’s chain and did it quite often, despite the fact that Randi was no social climber and was constantly torn between pleasing her mother and pleasing herself.
Noah refused to be put on that hot seat, which drove Melissa to distraction. And yet he loved his mother and would do what he could for her, short of letting her dominate him.
He shifted his gaze to his phone, his gut telling
