Love Contractually

Chapter Twenty-One

Thomas

"What do you mean she's gone?" I ask.

"She got sick." Teddy says and folds her arms. "I sent her to minors to get checked out, she's not on shift anymore."

"What do you mean, sick?" I ask with a frown, trying to call Hannah again. "Hannah seemed fine before." I say as the call drops instead of ringing. It makes me anxious, my chest tightening.

"She said it was stress, that it was stress that made her throw up." Teddy says with a knowing tone. "We all know you've been fucking Eva behind her back. She had no clue, but I bet she saw you and her and your good luck kiss in the scrub room. You are one hell of a piece of shit." She almost seethes.

"Which room in minors?" I ask. "I am her husband; I am her next of kin. I need to know where she is." I tell her firmly.

"No way. She is not recovering if you go in that room." She says, folding her arms. "I should have told her about what a slimeball you are months ago, but I couldn't break her heart and her hope for you. But I will protect her now. She has mental capacity; she doesn't need next of kin. If that changes, I will get you." She says firmly.

"I am this close to firing you, Teddy." I warn her, trying to call Hannah again, but the call drops again. "Her room. Now." I demand. Seeing her with her big eyes from that scrub room... the shell of anger and fear cracked open, and I feel like me again, I can feel again. And I have never hated myself more. I need to talk to Hannah; I need to make things right.

"Fire me." She seethes. I grit my teeth and curse as my pager goes off.

"Jane Doe. RTC, cardiac needed. All hands." I say, running down to A&E with Teddy. While she is fucking annoying me right now, I know she will work with me on a patient. We can save a life together at least, maybe it will earn me the respect to get her to tell me where Hannah is.

"Tell me." I say as I meet the ambulance people at the entrance.

"Doctor on scene says she needs surgery straight away." The paramedic says, pressing on the balloon to keep our patient breathing. "Jane doe, police trying to find her history now. Late twenties, early thirties maybe. RTC about fifteen minutes ago. No seat belt and went straight through the windscreen. Not protecting her airway, weak pulse, cyanosis localised in her left arm. Landed in some bushes on the side of the road, cushioned her impact." I listen to her chest and frown.

"Get her in the OR." I say. "I think the impact caused a clot that's stuck in her heart. Maybe a PE that's moved."

"All clear. OR Three." Teddy says.

"Type and cross her blood ready for transfusion. A clot this big cutting circulation off from her arm is going to mean opening her chest." I say, letting the OR staff get her ready as I scrub in. "Get her scanned and prepped before I go in, chest x-ray, the usual trauma protocol."

I get in the flow in the OR. I order scans and tests and then I see it clearly, I need to open her up. I think it's the numbness that has faded since I saw Hannah so hurt before, that makes me hear the ribs break a little louder than usual. I take a breath, and I focus. Her only needing a small incision to suck the clot out. It doesn't take long, I wait to see her arm regain colour, then I close her heart and chest, handing her over to general and neuro to do a workup on the rest of her, staying on standby, but needing to find Hannah now I've done my part.

I sit in the waiting room, calling Hannah again. The phone dropping the call. Does this mean she blocked me? Fuck this, I'm going to minors myself. I have my pager, and I am confident in my operation, so I stand up, ready to go find her myself.