Chapter 2
Camille's POV
The driver scrambles out of his car.
He's somewhere in his mid-forties, wearing a jacket so faded it's barely got any color left, and his face isn't doing much better.
"Officer, this wasn't my fault! I was stopped at the line. She came out of nowhere and hit me!"
He's shaking so hard he can barely stand, somewhere between furious and about to cry.
I press my left hand into the wet pavement and push myself up, biting down against the searing pain tearing through my right arm. I look up at him.
"I'm so sorry..."
I'm gasping, voice unsteady.
"The road was slick... I lost control. This is my fault, one hundred percent. Whatever your car needs, I'll take care of it. I mean it."
He just stares at me.
He clearly didn't expect this. No arguing, no deflecting, just a woman lying in the rain taking full responsibility without missing a beat. Whatever anger he came out of that car with melts into something closer to concern.
"Look, forget the car. The car doesn't matter. That arm looks really bad. You need to get to a hospital."
The officer exhales and reaches for his radio.
"Dispatch, we've got a rear-end collision at the downtown intersection. One injured, right arm, possible fracture and dislocation. Conscious and alert. EMS is on the way."
Ten minutes later, the ambulance pulls up and we're moving.
"Coming through! Trauma patient, move aside!"
The nurse Casey bursts through the ER doors pushing a gurney.
The second she sees my face, she stops cold.
"Camille? What the hell happened to you?"
Her voice carries across the entire waiting room. Heads turn. Of course they do. I'm the face of cardiothoracic surgery in this hospital. Half the ER staff knows exactly who I am.
"Save it. Just fix my shoulder."
I force it out through clenched teeth, cold sweat running down my neck.
The ER attending handles it himself.
When he pops the joint back into place, my vision goes white. Every muscle in my body locks up at once, and the sweat soaks straight through my hospital gown.
I don't make a sound.
"Camille, I gotta be honest, that was one hell of a thing to sit through." He shakes his head, securing the sling. "Shoulder dislocation with significant soft tissue damage. You're not touching a scalpel for at least two weeks."
Once he's done, they move me to an observation room.
Walt stands near the door with his notepad, Greg beside him. Casey sits at the edge of the bed, changing my dressing.
Walt steps forward. "Dr. Brooks, I'm Walt Brennan. The way it looks, you were speeding in bad conditions and hit Mr. Mercer's vehicle from behind. That puts you at fault for the accident."
I look at Greg. "Yeah, that's fair. Repairs, anything else he's out, it's on me. I'm not disputing any of it."
Greg shifts, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I mean, that's not really... I've got insurance. Honestly, I'm more worried about your arm."
Walt's tone softens a little.
"Dr. Brooks, I have to ask. Conditions were bad out there tonight. Why were you going that fast?"
"I wasn't trying to speed. My fiancé called me right before this happened. There's a patient bleeding out in OR 3 upstairs and I'm the attending. I was just trying to get there."
As I say it, I let my eyes drift past Walt's shoulder to the clock on the wall.
8:45.
Daisy Whitman is long out of that OR by now. She'll be looking for me soon.
I reach up with my left hand and yank the IV out of the back of my hand. My eyes fill with tears, urgent and unblinking.
"I have to get up there. I'm the attending. I can't just lie here while someone's dying."
"Camille, what are you doing!" Casey grabs for my arm.
I don't listen. I swing my legs off the bed and try to stand, but my legs buckle the second my feet hit the floor and I nearly go down.
Walt and Greg both look like they've just watched something they can't quite process.
Walt catches me by the shoulders and pushes me firmly back onto the bed.
"Dr. Brooks, stop. Your arm is out of commission. What exactly are you going to do up there?"
"You'd be in the way right now. You're not the only doctor in this hospital."
