Page 105 of Forever Fighting
Roman holds up his taped-up finger at me, and I give him an eye roll.
“You know what I mean. That’s not a wedding band. It’s different.”
“You’re right. I had to take off my wedding band in order to get the ink done. You’re wearing mine.”
“We skipped over parts,” I argue. “Over the dating and getting serious stuff. We did this backward.”
“You already said that to me today.”
“I know.” But I can’t shake the feeling. It’s like we forgot or are missing something. Like when you leave your house for a trip or go into work and can’t remember if you turned off thestove or the curling iron. I haven’t been able to shake this sensation loose. It’s been with me since Mexico.
“We got serious in a heartbeat,” Raven says, gesturing to Luca. “Our timing wasn’t right. I was too young, and our worlds didn’t line up.”
“Until they did and I forced her to see me again,” Luca continues with a love-struck smile for his wife. “The steps aren’t important as long as you’re where you both want to be in the end.”
Raven takes a sip of her drink, her expression pensive. “I think our own doubts and the external voices we allow to feed them become our worst enemies. Especially with things like these. You’re married and that’s all over the internet. But you’re also working to start something new. I get it.”
“There will always be those who love to feed that doubt and destroy the happiness of others,” I agree. “People who love to hurt because they can.” As I say the words, that feeling of foreboding drops into my gut.
My odd sense of intuition tells me I’m missing something. The angel of death is anxious to take her next victim. And that not everyone can be saved.
33
BRAELYN
“My patient in room three is going to code,” I tell Katy’s husband, Bennett, when he comes down to evaluate our latest trauma patient, who we stabilized and got into his own room.
Bennett pauses and twists to face me. “You sure?”
“No.” I mean, that’s my answer because I’m not sure. Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve had this premonition at least eight other times and I’ve been wrong fifty percent of those, which isn’t how I typically roll. Normally, I’m a hundred percent girl, so my confidence is a bit iffy at the moment.
It’s that dream I can’t shake. The one I’ve had a few times since the original but can’t replicate upon awakening. It’s just a feeling. One that hasn’t gotten me far but has made me out of sorts. Other than this stuff, everything else has been great. Things with Roman are amazing. My tattoos are completely healed. The press has died off.
And I haven’t heard from Adam.
As far as I know, he’s faded back into his life and subsequently left me the hell alone.
But I haven’t been settled. I haven’t felt…right.
“I think so. This one I’m giving like a sixty-seven point five percent rating.”
“Is the CT back?”
“I was actually about to check, and then you showed up?—”
“Code blue, room three. Code blue, room three.”
“Shit,” Bennett hisses. “Seems you were right this time.”
“Ugh.”
We race down the hall back to my patient’s room to find a backboard being slid under him and epi being pushed through the IV.
“BP is crashing,” someone shouts. “Fifty over palp. I think he’s having a MI, and my guess is hypovolemic despite the unit of blood going in.”
A shudder rolls through me.
“Charge the paddles. Let’s go!” Bennett is all over it. “Can someone read me the CT results? I have a feeling he’s bleeding from a liver lac if the location of his ecchymosis is any indication. Let’s also get another unit of type-specific up. I want rapid transfusion. Two hundred. Clear!”
