Love in Uniform — Romance Short Story

“Hey, Stacy, room five has a new patient,” Ron, the nightshift medic, calls out to me.

“Okay, thanks,” I yell back, walking down the hallway to the med room while stuffing half a granola bar in my face. Weekend night shifts are usually rough, especially Sunday nights. Everyone wants a work note for Monday.

Ron jogs over to fall in step beside me, “Male, fifty years old, was cutting his pills to take with dinner and sliced his finger on the pill cutter blade. Small half inch laceration, probably needing a stitch. Doc is in there now.”

“Cool, thanks, Ron,” I mumble around my granola bar. He throws me a thumbs up as he walks back to the triage desk to check in the next onslaught of patients.

I punch the code to get into the med room, hearing the radio pick up for an ambulance calling ahead.

“Truck 215 calling for Orchard Hospital,” the radio says.

I turn around after grabbing a handful of saline flushes and some lidocaine with stitching materials. Pushing the radio button, I say, “Orchard Hospital, whatcha got?”

“Female, thirty years old, drunk at a party and hit her boyfriend’s ex. Pressing charges, cops in tow, ETA five minutes.”

“Heard, see you in five.” I jot the notes down on the tracker sheet and turn to yell for the charge nurse, “Charlie!”

“Room two,” she calls back to me.

“Truck coming with ETOH in five. I’ll drop off these supplies to Doc in my room, then swing back and take them in room three,” I say, walking past room two to head to my new patient.

After quickly running through some charting and giving the doctor the supplies I grabbed for him, I dash back out, over to the bay door, and see Charlie checking in the new patient into the system. New, unhappy patient, that is.

“Get off me,” she slurs, sloppily swatting away Charlie’s hand as she tries to get a temperature.

“If you don’t cooperate, miss, I’m goin’ to be forced to handcuff you to the bed, so the nice nurse can do her job,” a stern voice says from behind the stretcher. Walking closer, I peer around the stretcher to see a police officer with brown stubble, a half foot taller than me, and his face showing an expression that says he’s two cups of coffee short on fucks to give.

“Whatever,” the patient murmurs.

“Okay, room three, guys,” Charlie says. “You got this, Stace?”

“Yep, right behind ya,” I say, grabbing a bucket with supplies sitting by the nurses’ station as I follow the paramedics into the room. “Hi, I’m Stacy. I’m going to be your nurse tonight. We’re going to start with an IV and draw some blood, give you a bag of fluids, and ask a bunch of questions, okay? Then, I can bring you a warm blanket and let you sleep. Sound good?” I set the bucket down on the bedside table and grab a hospital gown out of the cabinet. “Change into this for me, please,” I say, closing the curtain behind the paramedics.

“Fine,” she grumbles, “but I want a sandwich too.”

“As long as the doctor says that’s fine and you’re not puking, then that’s fine with me,” I say. “Arm, please.”

“Ow, damn it! That hurts,” she tries to pull her arm way as I insert the needle into her skin.

“Nope, don’t move. If it comes out, then I poke you again,” I grip her arm tighter, making sure she stays still.

“Ahem,” a person behind me clears their throat. I glance over my shoulder, seeing the police officer from before standing in the doorway. Seeing his features more up close than before, I realize how blue his eyes are, like a stormy ocean, and that the brown stubble along his jaw is peppered with grey. “I can just stand out here, if that’s easier for you,” he says to me before looking at the patient, “but, ma’am, like I said before, cooperate or I’ll cuff you to the bed.” He raises his eyebrows and stares at her until she nods.

I smile despite myself, thanking the heavens that my mask covers that up. I doubt the feisty drinker would appreciate my humor in the situation.

I gather the information needed for my chart notes, clean up my mess of trash, and walk out the door to search for a warm blanket and some food. “Hey,” I stop and turn, just outside the doorway, “can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” the officer smiles. “Officer Cam O’Harris, by the way. Stacy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. I’ll grab that coffee and be back in a few.”

“Thanks again,” he calls after me.

Walking to the nutrition room, I can’t help but smile. For once, I’m grateful to have my rooms full, especially if it means I get to talk to Officer O’Harris more tonight. A part of me is slightly hoping that the lab calls to say the blood is clotted so I’d have to redraw it, making him stay a little longer.

I hand him a cup of coffee as I walk up to him and smile. “Thanks,” he says, taking a sip. “Wow, that is really terrible,” he coughs, laughing. “No offense.”

“Nope, none taken,” I laugh. “Hospital coffee isn’t the best, but it sure will wake you up.”

“Well, that’s a bit worth it then, I guess,” he laughs.

“You’re welcome to stand guard or sit in the room. There’s also some chairs at the desk down there. I’ll be using one, but you’re welcome to the other,” I point down the hall to my desk and computer. “I’ll be here if she hollers for anything, though I’m sure I’ll hear her.”

He nods, “Yeah, thanks.”

I walk down the hall and sit at the desk, working to catch up on all the charting that needs to get done on my four rooms.

“Uh, Stacy?”

“Yeah, Officer O’Harris,” I swivel around in my chair. “Do you want another cup of coffee?”

“Oh, no, thank you, though,” he says, looking down into his cup. “Please, call me Cam,” he walks over and sits down in the chair next to me. “You’re sure it’s alright if I take this seat,” he asks. “She fell asleep, so I don’t think she’ll be goin’ anywhere any time soon.”

“Yeah, of course,” I smile.

“Awesome, thank you.” He leans back, his body seeming to breathe relief at getting to relax for a moment. “So, are you from here?”

“Here, like Orchard Springs?” I turn to him. “No, I’m from a few states west of here. Colorado, to be exact. Yourself?”

“Born and raised,” he says, a slight southern twang coming through.

“Is that right,” I laugh.

“Made it easy to join the force after high school. Already lived here, knew the town, knew the people,” he shrugs. “What brought you out here?”

“Oh, you know, following a boy instead of a dream,” I say.

“Sure sounds like a boy. Only a boy would let you give up your dream for him. No man would ever let that happen.”

My eyes snap up to meet his, seeing only honesty in his gaze… with maybe a little heat.

“Did the boy ever grow into that? A man, I mean?”

“Wouldn’t know. A month after I moved here, he told me he just didn’t see a future together. I decided it was as good a time as ever to just go for my dream and be a nurse,” I say, fidgeting with my stethoscope. “Can’t say I was able to do much thinking or wallowing while in school, it’s pretty rough,” I laugh. “Six months later, and the department keeps me just as busy it seems. Though, at least it doesn’t feel as stressful once I’m finally at home.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says. “Don’t people at home miss you while you’re here, though?”

“Oh, Scooter does just fine during my shifts. Pretty sure that old dog just sleeps all night anyway.”

He chuckles, “My Daisy is the same way.”

“Dog too,” I ask, hoping that Daisy isn’t his wife.

“Cat, actually,” he smirks. “She does better on the 24-hour shift rotations than a dog would.”

The cinching in my heart deflates as I laugh.

“Is drivin’ home after your shift tough? Or are you more of a night owl?”

“Night owl, definitely,” I say.

“Well, could I repay you for that coffee you got me earlier? I could take you to breakfast, if it’s no trouble,” he says, eyes searching mine.

“Oh — ”

“Really, don’t feel like you have to. I just want to make sure you get some quality coffee in that system of yours,” he smiles hesitantly.

“No, that would be really nice,” I say, reaching out to touch his arm, noticing the strong muscle I feel beneath his sleeve. “I’ll have to run home and let Scooter out, then I can meet you.”

His blue eyes light up, “Betsy’s Diner at eight, then?”

“I love that place,” I say with excitement. “I haven’t been there in ages!”

Getting off my shift, I give report to the day shift staff, then head out the bay door to my car. I rush home, quickly showering while Scooter goes out to potty, then hop in the car to head to the diner. Right on time, I think to myself. I look around the parking lot, quickly realizing I don’t know what kind of car Cam drives outside of his cruiser.

Shaking my head, I grab my purse and walk inside. “Welcome to Betsy’s, is it just one today?” the girl behind the counter greets.

“Oh, I’m actually meeting someone,” I look around the corner to see down the aisle.

“Cam, right,” she asks, pointing down the opposite aisle to a booth by the window.

I glance and see him waving, wearing a soft-looking grey t-shirt. I wonder how she knew his name, but then again, he did say he grew up here. I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Stacy, you made it,” he stands to meet me. We awkwardly do a half hug, half shoulder pat before sitting down, the smell of his cologne wafting into my senses with the proximity. I have to consciously suppress the moan that almost escapes my lips as I breathe in the smell of musk and pine.

“Of course, I wouldn’t stand you up, especially when these pancakes are involved,” I laugh.

“Fair enough,” he smiles. “Mom really does know her way around some classic pancakes.”

I gasp, “Wait, your mom?”

He smirks, “Yep, you heard me. My mom is Betsy of Betsy’s diner. Does almost all the cookin’ herself too.”

“No way,” I say, my eyes wide. “You brought me to your mom’s for breakfast.” I laugh as I watch him sputter around an excuse. “I’m kidding. Well, sort of. You really did bring me here for breakfast.”

He rubs the back of his neck embarrassed. “I mean, it’s only weird if it’s a date, right?” He peeks up at me.

I can feel my cheeks heat up. “Is it?”

I watch him lick his lips, heat pooling below my belly. “If you want it to be, doll.”

Breakfast goes by in a blur of flirting, using any reason to touch each other’s hand, and the most delicious pancakes of my life. He’s a lucky bastard for being raised on Betsy’s cooking. We make sure to exchange numbers as we head out the door, and my phone beeps with a text from him before I even make it back to my house, making me smile like a schoolgirl.

A few more breakfast dates, countless texts, and a handful of phone calls later, Cam has become the name I most look forward to seeing come up on my phone.

“So, when do I get to go out on your boat,” I say into the phone.

“Whenever you want, doll,” Cam answers. “I work this weekend, when’s your next day off?”

“I work this weekend too, so maybe Monday,” I say. I bring Scooter his food bowl for dinnertime and scratch behind his ears. “Good boy, buddy.”

“Monday is good, and thanks, I do try to be the best for you, sweetness,” he teases.

“Oh? You’re a good boy, hm? I’ll make sure to note that down. Good boy, not man,” I giggle, as he voices his disapproval.

“I’ll show you how good of a man I can be on Monday. Bikinis, beer, and boatin’. That sounds like the perfect kind of afternoon with you. You could even bring Scooter, I bet he’d love it.”

“Oh, he would love that! Thank you, that’s so sweet.”

“Of course, I’m not about to challenge him for number one man in your life. He deserves to be co-number one,” I can hear his smile through the phone.

I laugh, “Well, I’ll see you Monday. I’m going to take Scooter out for a run, but I’ll text you later.”

“If you promise, I guess I can let you go,” he says. “But you’ll owe me later. A video call.”

“Fine,” I say, “but much later. I’ll have to shower after my run if you’re actually going to see my face.”

“For you, I have all the time in the world. Talk later, doll,” he says, hanging up the phone.

“You ready, buddy?” I say, grabbing Scooter’s leash as he finishes his food. At the sight of the leash in my hand, he starts jumping around like a puppy, making me smile. “Okay, let’s go.”

Walking into work the next night, no trucks in the bay, I get the good feeling it won’t be a hectic shift. I sip my coffee as I walk into the department, clocking in and getting report from dayshift.

“You only have room one right now, the others are empty. It’s been pretty smooth today,” Tracy says.

“That’s nice to hear then, fingers crossed for the rest of the night.”

“Right,” she laughs. “Well, room one is all set. Charting is done, vitals were just updated, and he’s pretty stable. Sixty years old, male, had some chest pain around lunchtime. He’s just waiting on admission for overnight observation, but he’s pretty much done,” she hands me the chart as I glance it over.

“Sounds great, thanks,” I say.

“Stacy,” Charlie yells. “We got a truck coming in hot in five minutes. They’re going into your code room, so go get prepped.”

“Got it,” I put the chart on my desk and run into the med room, grabbing supplies as I go, pulling the crash cart behind me. I hear the sirens pulling up to the bay as I put on my gloves.

“Gunshot wound to the right shoulder, thirty-two, no medical history,” the paramedic starts to say, as they pull in the stretcher. One medic is applying pressure to the wound while the other is steering the stretcher through the doorway.

I turn around to prep some fluid bags as I listen to the rest of the report.

“IV access in the left arm, lots of blood loss, the guy’s been in and out of it since we picked him up.”

I nod my head, “Thanks, guys, let’s transfer him.” I turn back around and grab the bed sheet underneath him. The metallic scent of blood burns my nostrils it’s so strong. “One, two, three, pull,” I say, as we transfer the patient from the stretcher to the hospital bed. I look down at him, “It’s okay, you’re gonna be — “

I can feel the color drain from my face as my mouth hangs open. Tears start to pool in my eyes, blurring my vision.

“No,” I whisper. “Cam? Cam, can you hear me?” I’m losing it, I know I’m losing it, but I can’t seem to get a grip, either. My world pulled from underneath my feet.

“Stacy?” Charlie comes up beside me. “Oh, sweetie. Go, get out of here,” she says. Turning around, she yells, “Jason! Get in here, I need you to take over this room!”

“You got it, boss,” Jason says, entering the room and grabbing the bags of fluid while the doctor comes in to assess the wound.

I can’t move. I just stand there, looking at Cam’s face, almost as white as the sheet below him.

“Stacy, out, now,” Charlie says sternly. “Ron!”

“Yep,” he pokes his head in the door.

“Stacy knows this guy. Get her out of here please.”

Ron looks at me, sympathy written on his face. “Come on, honey,” he says, steering me around as I numbly start to stumble to the door.

Two hours. It’s an eternity of waiting, pacing the lobby, but it’s really only two hours until he’s stable. I rush into his room once I get the news that I’m allowed back in.

“Cam,” I say, stroking his hair back from his face.

He groans, then screams as he tries to sit up. “What the hell.”

“Hey, hey, don’t move,” I gently push him back down onto the bed, carefully avoiding his bandages.

“Stacy?” He moans again. “I remember now, kind of. I answered a call, just a noise disturbance, no big deal. I get there, domestic dispute. Guy was beatin’ his wife,” he groans, as he readjusts his position to grab my hand. “Pulled a gun on me when I tried to escort her out. I… I threw her out of the way when he tried to shoot her. The whole ‘if I can’t have you, no one will’ type of thing. Shit, this hurts.”

“I was so worried,” I say, tears flowing down my face. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

“Nah, doll, can’t get rid of me that easily. Not when we have a bikini boat date comin’ up. I wouldn’t miss that for the world,” he smirks, kissing my fingers.