Free A Fallen Heart by Cate Ashwood Page B

save someone’s life, so be it, and assholes like Greene, who put a price tag on people, make me angrier than anything.”
    “Forget him for now. He doesn’t matter. They’re not going to fire you for doing your job.”
    Ford sighed. She was right. In the grand scheme of things, Greene didn’t matter.
    “How’s the tracker looking?” Ford changed the subject and pulled the screen up on his computer that showed the list of patients, complete with all the information needed to quickly orient himself.
    “Busy,” Amanda said.
    “When isn’t it?” Lissa chimed in.
    “Excuse me?”
    Ford looked up to see a woman standing at the desk, waiting expectantly.
    “What can I do for you?”
    “My mother is in bed six. Can she have something to drink? She says her throat feels dry.”
    “I’ll grab her some water,” Amanda offered.
     
     
    THE NEXT time Ford looked at the clock, it was well past the time when he should have taken a break. They’d been flooded with people, and a multivehicle accident nearby meant the trauma bay had seen its share of carnage that evening. Ford had been so caught up in everything going on, he’d forgotten to stop. His stomach rumbled, since the last time he’d eaten had been when he’d shoved some Chinese food, leftover from God only knew when, into his mouth before heading out the door.
    “I’m going to grab something to eat,” he said to Amanda the next time there was a lull in registrations.
    “Bon appétit!” she replied.
    Ford trudged to the staff room. It was empty, as usual. Dismal walls and institutional furniture meant that most people chose to leave the hospital for meals. The quiet of the room made his ears ring, and all at once, he realized how tired he was.
    Ford opened the fridge and tried to decide between nuking a sweet-and-sour chicken Lean Cuisine he knew he’d left in the freezer sometime last January during an ill-fated healthy-living resolution, or a pack of Cheese Nips and a half bottle of apple juice left over from his shift the week before. Neither seemed particularly appetizing, but his stomach was rumbling consistently, and crackers and some likely expired juice was not going to cut it.
    “Sweet-and-sour chicken it is,” he grumbled, opening the freezer and reaching in for what promised to be a soggy and mostly tasteless freezer-burned dinner.
    “Ford,” Amanda called from the door.
    She looked at him with an expression of disgust on her face as he pulled the box out.
    “Do not eat that. It has enough frost on it that you could build your own snowman. Throw it away. Nash is here. And he brought pizza.”
    Ford tossed the microwave meal into the garbage on the way out of the room.
    He followed Amanda back to the nurses’ station where Nash was leaning against the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, talking to Lissa. Ford’s stomach lurched seeing him, dressed casually in jeans, sneakers, and a plain white T-shirt. What was it about Nash that made a simple white tee look so fucking appealing? He was so goddamn pure , like the boy next door, but so much more tempting. Suddenly Ford regretted not asking Nash upstairs when he’d driven him home. Fantasies of being alone with him took hold but were quickly chased away. Ford chastised himself for allowing the thoughts to enter his mind.
    “What are you doing here?” he asked.
    “I thought I’d take advantage of my night off to curry favor with my favorite nurses. You know how much easier my job is when the nurses like me?”
    “You have nothing better to do with your night off than to bring us pizza?”
    “Well, Adam and Sam are hanging out tonight.”
    “I don’t think it’s called ‘hanging out’ when they live together,” Ford pointed out.
    “Whatever. Adam and Sam are spending quality couple time together. Caleb is having dinner with his family, and apparently Rob is wining and dining a new girl he met online.”
    “You don’t have any other friends?” Ford asked and immediately