Page 233 of The Havenport Collection

Eliza

A nother day, another fucking night shift. It hadn’t gotten easier, the six p.m. to six a.m. work life. I thought I’d adjust—hell, I was young. But I dragged and dragged every single night.

It didn’t help that we were extremely short-staffed and so I was pulling four twelve-hour shifts a week instead of three.

I was grateful for the extra cash—not that I had any opportunity to spend it since I spent most of my free time sleeping.

Armed with a fresh coffee from the cafeteria, I headed toward the nurses’ station for my change of shift report, praying that I got some low-maintenance patients tonight.

I walked by Dr. Higgins who sneered at me. “Professional as always, Eliza,” he said, smirking. I glared at him. Yes, I was wearing glitter clogs, and my scrubs had unicorns jumping over rainbows on them. So what. Life was too short to be boring.

I wanted to punch his bald head clean off his neck, but instead I took a deep breath. I could if I wanted to—Yael’s Krav Maga classes were no joke—but I wasn’t going to let that jerk ruin my day. Well, technically night, but I had only woken up two hours ago so it was daytime for me.

Dr. Higgins had been making my work life hell since I arrived at Havenport Hospital last year. He took an immediate dislike to me, constantly making nasty comments about my appearance, my work, my notes, everything. He seemed hell-bent on embarrassing me at every turn.

My attitude certainly didn’t help matters.

I had an allergy to bullies and made no effort whatsoever to suck up to him, unlike most of the other hospital staff.

He required blind allegiance, and I was just not wired that way.

On my third shift, I questioned a lab order, and he screamed at me in the hallway.

Then there was the time he failed to lock the medication cabinet properly and then blamed me for it.

I had to make the hospital Human Resources department go to the security cameras to prove I was right.

Again, not exactly keeping my head down in my new place of employment. But I couldn’t help it. I was here to help patients, not suck up to ignorant assholes with God complexes. I did what was best for my patients, and he did not like that.

So when I smelled alcohol on his breath a few months ago, not once but twice, I went right back to HR and filed a formal complaint.

There was an investigation and a whole process that took weeks.

He was given a reprimand, and since then, he had been out for blood.

I had to be extra vigilant when I was on shift with him.

If I so much as used the wrong sized bandage, I’d be called in to see HR for a policy violation.

I took a few sips of coffee and did my breathing exercises, while waiting for Katie to transfer her patients into my care. She gave me the full briefing, and I took notes and asked questions. Thankfully, it seemed like it had been slow and hopefully it would stay that way.

Many people assumed working at a small-town hospital is pretty low stress.

Quite the opposite. Our hospital served dozens of communities and constantly struggled to meet the patient demand.

We needed more space, more equipment, and more personnel.

It was a constant battle to do the best you could under the circumstances.

The presence of assholes like Dr. Higgins only made it harder.

I straightened my stethoscope and squared my shoulders.

I loved nursing. I knew as a child that this was what I wanted.

And my patients deserved the best I could give them.

The ER was not a happy place—people were scared, confused, and desperate for answers.

Caring for them was a privilege, no matter how terrible the hospital bureaucracy was.

A few hours into an otherwise quiet shift, I was enjoying my second cup of coffee when the radio buzzed. Our triage team was changing shifts and clearly not doing their jobs. It was Paula, one of my favorite EMTs.

“Havenport Hospital? This is ambulance 21. We are en route to your emergency department with an eight-year-old female experiencing a severe asthma attack. The patient is conscious. Our ETA is four minutes.”

I hung up, entered the information into the system, and alerted the techs to prep a bed.

We rarely got kids in, especially this late at night.

A few minutes later we met our patient in the ambulance bay.

She was alert, on oxygen, but her lips were visibly blue.

I immediately listened to her lungs as the EMTs wheeled her into the room, trying to figure out what we were up against. Paula gave me the full rundown of the interventions they had done so far.

We got her into the treatment area and immediately switched out her oxygen mask. “We need to push albuterol,” I said to Anna, the nursing assistant assigned to me tonight.

She nodded and typed more notes into the computer.

“What is her blood ox?” I asked.

“Eighty-one,” she called out.

Shit, that was low. “Let’s page respiratory; get Dr Higgins in here and start Pulmicort next.”

We finished getting vitals and hooking her to the heart rate monitor, and the medications seemed to be working to stabilize her lung function.

The first few minutes with any emergency case were always the most intense and the most important.

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart rate start to come down.

Every time it was the same. I went to a different place when my patients came in.

Total focus. Total commitment. This was why I did what I did.

I smiled at the little girl and squeezed her hand.

She had gigantic brown eyes framed by the most gorgeous black eyelashes.

“You are doing a great job. Just relax and keep the oxygen mask on, okay? We’re going to do some tests and will have you feeling better soon.

” She smiled and nodded and my heart clenched.

Treating kids was the hardest part of my job.

It was then that I was confronted by the elephant in the room.

Or at least, the very large, very handsome man standing next to her bed.

It was Matteo Rossi. I breathed a momentary sigh of relief that I had put on a little makeup tonight.

Then I immediately felt bad. I was here to help people, not flirt with the hot dads.

He immediately started giving me the rundown of Valentina’s medical history, medications, and symptoms. Anna’s fingers were flying over the keyboard as he broke down every detail, even producing a laminated card from his back pocket with a complete list of her current medications and dosages.

He spoke slowly and deliberately, pausing every few minutes so we could ask follow-up questions.

This was clearly not his first emergency room rodeo.

I took in his posture, his sallow skin, and the tension in his jaw.

The poor guy was gutted, and I felt so badly.

I wanted to give him a hug and tell him we were going to take amazing care of his daughter, but I doubted it would help.

He seemed like the type of guy who carried the weight of the world on his admittedly very broad and muscular shoulders.

Dr. Higgins entered, a look of annoyance on his face. I quickly gave him a rundown and gestured to the mobile computer so he could get up to speed.

Matteo began explaining the attack, what precipitated it, and Valentina’s medications. Dr. Higgins blatantly looked him up and down, a sneer on his face.

He held up his hand rudely, and Matteo quieted. “One minute,” he said, reading her chart.

He walked over to Valentina and pulled her gown aside roughly. She winced when his cold stethoscope touched her skin.

“She’s got pneumonia,” he declared after seconds of listening.

“I didn’t hear crackling,” I replied. “I did multiple checks and heard nothing beyond the expected wheezing.”

Dr. Higgins looked at me with disdain.

“And her father indicated that she has had some congestion, stomach upset, and postnasal drip for the past few days. It could be the flu. We know it’s been going around the elementary school.”

Matteo started to say something, but Dr. Higgins ignored him. He turned to Anna. “Start an IV, get her some fluids, and push some Dispermox.”

He started to leave and something pinged in my brain. Wait a second, Dispermox? What is he thinking? The patient has a penicillin allergy. It’s documented on her chart.

“Dr. Higgins,” I shouted as he started to leave the room. “Can you double-check that order, please?”

He turned around and bit out, “Dispermox is best for treating pediatric pneumonia.”

“Not if the patient has a penicillin allergy.”

“A little gastro distress is a small price to pay; if it’s bacterial pneumonia we can’t waste time.”

I began to see red. How was he such a pompous ass?

“Read the damn chart. It’s not intestinal distress, it’s an anaphylactic allergy.

Which is why it’s noted in the damn chart and I briefed you orally when I gave you my report.

” I gently lifted the girl’s arm to show him the bright orange “allergy” bracelet on her wrist.

He sighed dramatically. “Your tone is out of line, Eliza. As always you are unprofessional and completely inappropriate.” He glared at me, and Matteo cleared his throat.

Something inside me snapped. I don’t know if it was my four straight days of twelve-hour shifts, or the sweet little girl lying in that bed, or just being sick and tired of the broken state of the healthcare system, but I snapped.

“I hardly think it’s unprofessional to keep you from administering the wrong medication,” I said, giving him an icy glare. “You ignored the warnings and the wealth of information in front of you and almost endangered this child’s life.”

His face morphed into complete hatred, and I knew I had stepped over the line.

He turned to Anna who was standing there looking like a scared fawn. “Cephalosporin,” he barked at her, and she squeaked before heading to the medication locker.

He continued to hold my glare.

“There is no sign of crackling. Based on the fever and additional symptoms, we need to swab her for the flu before you start pushing unnecessary antibiotics. If it’s the flu then we need to start Tamiflu immediately.”

“Kindly leave me with my patient and take your insubordination elsewhere.”

“She should stay,” Matteo barked, not taking his eyes off Valentina, who looked terrified.

Higgins seethed. “Swab her for flu and order a chest X-ray. And start the antibiotic.” He turned on his heels and stalked out, clearly on his way to terrorize someone else.

Ignoring Dr. Higgins, I walked over to Valentina, giving her a warm smile. “So I need to draw some blood. We are going to check your white blood cell counts and a few other things.”

She nodded and I looked up at Matteo, catching his eye. He nodded at me, and I could sense his gratitude. “I need to run and grab some supplies; press this button and Anna or I will be right here for you, okay?”

She gently shifted her oxygen mask aside and said, “I’m cold.”

I squeezed her arm. “I know where to find heated blankets. I will get you warm and toasty in no time.” She nodded eagerly.

“What about you, Dad?” I asked. “Hot coffee?”

He nodded, and I saw the exhaustion in his eyes. I felt for him—watching his child struggle to breathe must be horrific. I suppressed the urge to give him a hug. I bet he was a great hugger. All warmth and strength and stubble. Shit. I needed to get my head in the game.

I walked back toward the nurses’ station, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I was so angry. Dr. Higgins couldn’t be bothered to read the damn chart or listen to what I said to his face.

I was tired of being treated with contempt.

And that poor child had almost suffered because of his negligence.

I shouldn’t have yelled at him. It was wrong and unprofessional.

But I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t pretend this was okay.

And I suspected I’d be facing the consequences of my actions sooner rather than later.