Page 101 of One Reckless Night

Clair didn’t argue. She pulled out her phone and started dialing as I put Amelia back on the bed. I checked her pulse, her breathing, my hands moving on autopilot. She was alive but barely. My mind was a whirlwind of fear and guilt, but I pushed it all aside. I had to focus. I had to save her.

“He’s on his way with the cart,” she said.

“Get me a clean blanket,” I ordered. “Grab her purse.”

Clair quickly did as I asked. Once again, I picked Amelia up and carried her outside. Shawn pulled up in the golf cart outfitted to carry patients. We quickly loaded her inside with me cradling her in my arms while Shawn drove us to the helipad.

Our chopper was there, blades slicing through the air. Our flight nurse hunched over and ran to meet us.

I climbed into the helicopter, Amelia still cradled in my arms.

“Let’s get her on the stretcher,” the nurse said.

I knew it was the right thing to do, but I struggled to let her go. We got her on and the nurse worked quickly to secure the belts.

My fingers moved to her cold wrist, checking her pulse again—too weak, too slow. The nurse hooked her up to an IV and monitoring equipment with an efficiency that came from years of experience.

“Go,” I said to the pilot as soon as the nurse had the IV going.

The chopper lifted off. I glanced out the window and saw Shawn holding Clair. If it wasn’t for Clair… I couldn’t finish the thought.

This was my fault. I should’ve checked on her last night. I should’ve done more than stand outside her door like some lovesick stalker.

I kept my eyes on Amelia, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest as the nurse worked. Her skin was pale, almost translucent under the harsh fluorescent light of the chopper. The blood on the sheets flashed in my mind again. I forced myself to focus on the monitors—her heart rate stable but low, oxygen levels just barely acceptable.

“Dr. Welch, her pressure’s dropping.”

I leaned forward, my training kicking in. “Increase the IV fluids,” I ordered. “And get me a blood pressure cuff. She’s approximately sixteen weeks pregnant.”

The nurse looked at me, realization dawning. “We’ve got her. We’ll be at the hospital in forty minutes. She’s in good hands.”

I held her hand the entire flight, my eyes never leaving her face. I hated that there was nothing I could do.

When we landed at the hospital, a team of doctors was waiting for us. They whisked Amelia away. I was left standing in the hallway, feeling utterly useless. I tried to follow but was stopped by a nurse that looked like she could bench press me.

This was what it felt like to be on the other side of this equation. I was the guy saving a patient’s life. I was never the terrified guy in the waiting room.

The hospital walls felt like they were closing in around me. The sterile scent of antiseptic, the low hum of voices, the steady beep of machines—it all blurred together in the background, white noise that I was so used to I never really heard it. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not like this. Not pacing the floor outside a goddamn emergency room while Amelia lay on the other side of those doors, bleeding.

I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the back of my neck, trying to breathe, trying to stay in control. Control. That was what I’d built my life around—control over my emotions, over my actions, over everything.

I had been forced to do something I wasn’t used to—I had to step back. I had to let someone else take the reins. And I fucking hated it. Adrenaline was still pumping through my veins, making me feel like I’d slammed twenty cups of coffee. My body was too tightly wound, my nerves stretched too thin. I was a surgeon, for fuck’s sake. I had cut into people’s skulls, had saved lives more times than I could count. But this? Watching Amelia suffer and knowing there was nothing I could do? It was unbearable.

“Jared!”

I looked up and saw Shawn and Clair walk into the waiting room. Had it been that long? Shawn texted and told me they were coming over in the private jet.

“What do you know?” Clair asked.

“Not a fucking thing,” I growled. “I swear to God, if someone doesn’t tell me something soon, shit’s gonna get ugly. She’s been in there too long.”

Shawn exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “They’re doing everything they can, man. You know that.”

I shook my head. “I should be in there.”

“Unfortunately, your specialty is the other end, Jared.” Shawn clasped my shoulder. “Let the experts do their jobs.”

Two hours later, I was pacing the hallway with Clair and Shawn sitting in the chairs with looks of concern. The attending finally emerged.