“I’d take the dog with me to Mom’s when it was my time to stay with her,” he says, completely nonplussed.
“Yeah… if you think I’m dead set against a dog, just wait until you try to ask your mom for one. I can tell you, without a doubt, that she’ll say no.”
“She’ll say yes,” he says confidently, and then shovels a huge scoop of cereal in his mouth.
While he’s chewing, I take the opportunity to lean in, kiss him on the head, and say, “Sorry, little man. It’s just not something we can do right now. Not with you splitting time between me and Mom’s, and I only have an apartment.”
Sam’s mouth chews fervently, trying to get the food swallowed so he can argue with me. I take the opportunity to escape. “Finish your cereal, and then get dressed. I’m going to go take a quick shower.”
His brows slanting angrily inward, Sam swallows his cereal and glares at me. Giving a sigh, I head back toward the guest bedroom of Denise’s house where Sam and I are sharing a bed. This is the second year in a row that we’ve come to New Orleans for our summer vacation, taking advantage of the free room with my sister and the variety of attractions available in NOLA. Denise has been in New Orleans for the last six years, having followed a man down here, who turned out to be of the asshole variety. He left to go back to New York, but my big sis loved it down here and decided to make this her new home.
Denise is all the family I have left, our parents having died in a train derailment a few years ago when they were actually traveling from our home city of Brooklyn down to New Orleans to visit Denise. Since then, it’s just seems the right thing to do to come down and visit so we can have some quality time together.
Just as I start to reach into my suitcase for some clean clothes, my cell phone buzzes with a text. I slip it out of my pocket and tap the Text icon.
How is vacation? Things are boring here without you.
I smile. Nothing like a text from my best buddy and co-worker, Flynn Caldwell. We’ve been through thick and thin together since starting together at the NYFD, and he’s about the closest thing I have to a brother. Doesn’t matter that his skin is white and mine’s black. We’re still super tight.
I’m sure Rowan is keeping you plenty occupied, I text back.
Yeah… setting fire between the sheets, he immediately replies.
I snicker, because that’s true enough. Flynn and Rowan can barely keep their hands off each other. I start to text back a witty, if not crude, reply when I hear Sam shrieking from the backyard.
“D-a-a-a-d-d-y!”
Fear and adrenaline surge through me as I recognize pain and terror in Sam’s voice. The phone drops from my hand and I bolt out of the bedroom, catching my shoulder on the doorjamb. Tearing down the hall, I fly into the kitchen, scramble around the table, and fling the sliding glass door open.
Sam is running across the yard toward me, clutching one hand to his chest. Tears are pouring down his face. Scout trots behind him, looking worried as only golden retrievers can.
I sprint toward him, dropping to my knees in the grass and opening my arms up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Sucking in a deep breath, which stutters through his tears, he wails, “I was chasing after Scout, and I tripped and fell. My hand hurts real bad.”
“It’s okay, buddy,” I say soothingly, my heart starting to calm now that I can see he’s basically okay. “Let me take a look.”
Carefully, I pull his hand away from his chest. His small whimper of pain slices through me deep. Immediately, I see the top of his right hand is swelling badly, and I suspect he might have a fracture.
With one hand, I cup him around the back of his head and pull him in. Giving him a kiss on his forehead, I tell him, “It’s going to be okay, Sammy. Looks like you may have broken something inside your hand, and I’m going to have to take you to the hospital.”
“It hurts,” Sammy says with a sniffle.
Standing up from the ground, I commiserate as I take him by the shoulder and lead him back toward the house. “I know, buddy. But they’ll make it feel all better at the hospital. I promise.”
Chapter 2
Holly
“Dr. Reynolds… there’s an open femur fracture coming in on Bay One. Multi-car accident with other victims coming behind. Dr. Falter asked if you could triage that, but he’ll handle the surgery since you’re getting off duty.”
Glancing at my watch, I take quick note that I was supposed to have finished my night shift forty minutes ago. Yet here I still am, at nine AM, slogging through cases at Tulane Medical Center.
“Sure,” I mumble as I start heading toward the ambulance bay.