Page 81 of Quinton's Quest

Oh shit.

The flatline was a clear indication things weren’t going well.

And yet she kept going. Barking instructions, running through the protocol. Doing everything she could to save the woman’s life.

“Dr. Rodgers?” Michelle Landry’s voice carried above the noise. The head nurse was a formidable woman, and woe be the person who crossed her.

Leo, leaning against the back wall, merely nodded.

I’d never seen a man so devastated. Part of me wondered why he wasn’t intervening. The rest of me understood even he would’ve known swapping a doctor from a code blue team to a surgeon would’ve been a bad idea.

Dr. Karlson stood back.

Michelle flipped off the pulse monitor.

The room was, for that moment, dead calm.

“She had a massive stroke, Dr. Rodgers.” Michelle gestured to the still form on the table.

“Even if we restarted her heart, it wouldn’t have been to anyone’s benefit.” Dr. Karlson removed her gloves and met Leo’s stare. “I doubt this had anything to do with your surgery. You know the risks. We all know the risks.”

Without the surgery, the aortic dissection would’ve likely been fatal. Leo had done the right thing to operate. Post-op complications were a fact of life. A clot to the brain was just one of those things. Horrible for everyone in this room—and especially the woman’s family—but Leo had done everything in his power.

The man continued to stare at his patient.

Finally, a nurse covered her with a sheet.

“I have—” Leo swallowed. “Thank you, everyone. I know you did your best, and I’m appreciative. I need to speak to her family.”

“No, that’s my job.” Dr. Karlson stepped toward us.

We all knew she was offering to let Leo off the hook. Most likely, he hadn’t done anything wrong. That didn’t change the outcome, though.

He straightened. “They’ve met me. I need to do this. I’ll tell them—” He straightened. “—that the team did everything they could. Thank you.” He turned toward the door. And stopped in his tracks when he saw me.

In that moment, I saw everything. The anguish. The pain. Thedon’t touch me or I’ll fucking lose my shit.I’d been there. Once when I lost a young patient. I rarely handled end-of-care cancer patients, but I had that day. I’d been as distraught over the parents’ reaction as I had been for the death of the young girl. That kind of loss didn’t go away—no matter how many times it happened.

I stepped out of his way.

He nodded, then left.

“Quinton?” Michelle stepped my way.

“Thought maybe I could help.” A lame excuse, but the head nurse nodded.

She held my gaze. “Thanks for coming. Are you off now, or just starting your shift?”

“Off.”

“Well, head home. Sayhito your mom from me.” With that, she turned her attention back to the team who were preparing the patient to be moved to the morgue. An autopsy would either confirm Leo hadn’t been responsible, or show what he might have done wrong. And what he could learn from.

He’s never lost a patient before. At least not one where he had control of the outcome.That always felt so impossible to me. Or maybe I’d misunderstood, and he’d merely meant he’d never made an error. Which also felt absurd, but he was still young in his surgical career.He’s going to be devastated.

Yet, as much as I wanted to stay at the hospital, I couldn’t find an excuse to. No one knew about my fuck sessions with Leo any night we were both free. Even Lucia wasn’t privy to this information. Mama only knew I had a newbeauin my life. She had this permanent grin on her face, and I worried she might spill the beans and say something to a coworker or friend—but she never did.

I slid into my driver’s seat, closed the door, and sat. Already, my breath frosted the air.Okay, so sitting here and wallowing won’t work.Because as much as the woman hadn’t beenmypatient, she’d still died. She’d been Leo’s responsibility, and no way was that not going to eat away at him.So what next?How could I offer support? Did he even want support?

Most importantly…where would he go? He wasn’t going to stick around the hospital once he delivered the bad news. Nothing more to be done tonight, and he’d loathe the pitying looks the other medical staff were bound to give. I knew—because I’d given that look more than once. People died. Most of the time we did everything right, and they still died. Sometimes we fucked up, and they died. Not often—but it did happen. We were human. Fallible. Imperfect. We couldn’t save everyone.