Page 12 of The Candle Palace (Jamison Valley 6)
It was common for burn victims to get addicted to opioids. Pain from burn wounds didn’t go away once the skin was healed. Scars often hurt no matter how much time passed.
After three recent patients had admitted themselves into rehab, the hospital administration had called a meeting of the burn unit staff. While we were still allowed to give our severe cases the self-regulated IVs, we’d been instructed to keep a close watch.
All that meeting had done was make me nervous. With Luna, I’d watched her pain management like a hawk, and thankfully, she had been using only over-the-counter medicines for weeks.
I shoved my worries for Milo away. He was in the early stages. He needed this morphine. There’d be plenty of time to wean him off the pain medication once his burns began to heal.
“Ready for me to keep going?” I asked gently.
Another barely there nod and I resumed my work. And my story.
“Your neighbor wanted you to have a tea light. And she wanted me to tell you welcome to the Candle Palace. It’s what she calls the unit.”
I finished the last of the dressing changes on Milo’s torso, smoothing his gown back into place. The band on his boxers was pushed down low, a trail of hair wending from his navel down. My eyes lingered, dropping lower and— Sara! My face was so hot I felt sweat beading at my temples.
Damn it, I was a nurse. A man’s naked form was no mystery. It was just pubic hair. Behind those boxers, it was just a penis. So why was I staring like it was the queen’s jewels behind that green plaid cotton?
Most male patients didn’t even bother with underwear. They let their gowns and hospital blankets cover up their naked bodies. But most had catheters at this point in their recovery, when they were in too much pain to get up from the bed.
Not Milo.
After yesterday’s procedure, he’d told Dr. Vernon the catheter had to go. Dr. Vernon had refused to take it out, so Milo had declared he’d do it himself.
His hand had been inches away from a swift yank when Dr. Vernon had swatted Milo’s hand away and begrudgingly taken out the catheter.
Men. It had to hurt to jostle himself in and out of bed just to use the bathroom, but Milo was determined.
Teresa had come in an hour later with a plastic Target bag and two six-packs of Hanes loose-fit boxers.
“Why?” Milo grunted.
Why? Why what? My eyes widened and my body tensed. What had we even been talking about? I’d gotten lost in a haze of Milo’s boxers. “Huh?”
“The Candle Palace. Why does she call it that?”
“Oh.” My spine melted as my fears ebbed. “Oh, it’s just a nickname.”
“It’s more than that. Tell me,” he pleaded. “Please.”
The pain reliever must have been working because his eyes were still closed but not scrunched up tight. His hands were no longer balled into fists. And his agonized grunts were now discernible words.
“I don’t want you to think she’s insensitive. It’s a little morbid.”
“I’m a cop.”
So he’d seen morbid? “Um . . .”
“I won’t think she’s insensitive.”
I blew out a long breath. “She thinks of everyone here as a candle. Literally. This place is far from a palace, but she’s a teenager and sarcasm is running through her veins. So . . . the Candle Palace.”
“The Candle Palace.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “It’s clever. And morbid. I like it.”
“Don’t tell anyone else. Please. I don’t think others would understa—”
“Sara.” My name in his rich timbre made my knees weak. Had he said my name yesterday? No. I would have remembered it. In his voice, it didn’t sound dull. “The secret’s safe.”
“Thanks,” I breathed, my chest heaving, my cheeks flaming hot once more.
