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Emily was the last person Chase had expected to see after coming in on the trauma chopper today.
When she spoke the tone of her voice, its soft, dewy vibrations, cut him to the core—as if only yesterday she’d meant something to him. He hadn’t been expecting her and he hadn’t prepared himself to see her there. Surely someone could have told him she was coming. He could have prepared, could have hardened his heart and his emotions against their first meeting, put up boundaries—not been broadsided, unprepared. He’d never imagined she’d come back here, where it had all begun for them.
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Running never solved anything, but she’d had to figure that out on her own.
“Good times. Did you bring the limb with you? We might be able to reattach it. Vascular team is stellar.” Chase nodded to the heavy-duty cooler on a counter behind him and one of the transport team picked it up, put it beneath the gurney. Both men grabbed opposing ends of the stretcher and moved with the patient toward the elevators, with the entire surgical team streaming down the hall behind them. Their voices faded into the distance as Chase and the surgeon continued their dialogue.
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