2. Prescription For Love

“I got a short message from Harper in the OR about three. She and my dad are fielding local calls.” Abby gestured for Flann to follow. “I’ll stand you a cup of coffee and we’ll try calling again.” “You’re on.”

Instead of going to the cafeteria, Abby led her to the ER break room where a fresh round of coffee was just dripping into the pot. Flann sank into a chair at one of the chipped Formica tables, the beige top discolored in places from too many spilled cups of coffee. Abby pulled two Styrofoam cups from a stack and looked over her shoulder. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Black is fine.”

Abby poured two cups and leaned down to pull cream from the under-counter fridge.

Flann took the opportunity to study Abby unawares. She looked great even in scrubs—full in all the right places and sleek in others. Added to that, she moved with confidence and grace. She was pretty spectacular on all fronts. Flann would have sworn she was too tired to even entertain sex, but her belly heated and she couldn’t help imagining Abby naked and lying beside her on cool white sheets while a late-night breeze blew in an open window. Yeah, right. The scenario worked, but Abby Remy was not a good candidate for the rest of the picture. Flann sighed. She and Abby kept getting thrown together in the middle of a crisis, and every time Abby came out looking more and more desirable.

Just the circumstances. Adrenaline and hormones. Nothing more.

Abby handed Flann a coffee and sat across from her. “Considering that we don’t have any protocols in place for a disaster of this magnitude, I think everything went really well tonight.”

Flann sipped her coffee. Abby’s eyes glowed and her voice lilted with excitement. “You’ve been having a good time.”

Abby looked as if she might protest, then with a small smile, nodded. “You don’t really think I’m an ER doc because I like to take care of colds and UTIs, do you?”

“While there’s nothing wrong with doing that,” Flann said judiciously, “no, I see you preferring a lot more high-powered situation. I’m surprised you’re not an intensivist or some kind of critical-care doc or something.”

“I thought about it, but like I said, I enjoy the variety in the ER. And I like the tough cases. I like the pace.”

“Then why are you here? Tonight’s an anomaly, you must know that. Ordinarily, you’re going to get the occasional car accident, some farming injuries, kids with broken bones from playing sports, and a whole hell of a lot of MIs, pulmonary problems, and

female-type issues.”

Abby laughed. “I know that.”

“Then I repeat, why are you here?”

Abby stared at her coffee, contemplating how much she really wanted to say. She hadn’t even talked to Presley about everything that had happened in the last year, not really. And Flann, Flann was hardly the confidant type. And yet, the intensity of her gaze and the thoughtful timber of her voice were genuine. She actually wanted to know, and Abby wanted to say the words out loud, rather than whisper them in her mind when lying alone late at night. “Most of it has to do with Blake.”

“You mentioned that, at least a little bit. That’s a big sacrifice to make—leaving a major trauma center for a quiet place like this.”

Abby’s head snapped up. “I don’t think so.”

Flann held up a hand. “Whoa. I’m not saying I don’t agree with it. But there’s no point in pretending you didn’t have to give up something.”

Abby’s first instinct was to argue, or at least tell Flann she had no idea what she was talking about until she was in the same situation. Until she had a child for whom she was completely responsible. A child who needed love and protection. Flann gazed back steadily, no touch of arrogance or superiority in her expression. Just calmly waiting. Abby took a deep breath. “It’s hard to think of it that way. He’s my child. I’d do anything for him.”

“I believe you.” Flann smiled. “My parents are like that too. Especially my mother. I respect you, more than I can say.”

Abby had heard that before, in one form or another, from her own mother, from the parents of some of the teens in Blake’s trans support group, from Presley. Hearing those words from Flann touched her in a way she hadn’t expected—Flann knew what it had taken to get where she was. Flann understood the thrill and the tremendous sense of accomplishment that came with treating critically ill patients in a crisis situation. Abby’s throat tightened, and to her horror, her eyes stung with unshed tears. She brushed a hand across her face. “Well, I must be more tired than I thought.”

Flann took her other hand and squeezed gently. “Long fucking night.”

Abby laughed shakily. “You can say that again. I don’t think I ever thanked you for saving Blake during that storm.”

“No thanks necessary. And I didn’t, really. But I’m glad I was there.”

“God, so am I.” Abby tightened her grip on Flann’s fingers, barely able to picture the horror of what might have happened. “He’s been through so much already. I never dreamed of a natural disaster as our next challenge.”