The Best Laid Plans. Amy Vastine

as they approached, explaining that her autistic son had been making lunch when something caught fire. The smoke alarm had frightened the teenager and he’d become agitated. She’d struggled to get him out of the house, which had allowed the fire to spread out of her control. She was worried about the amount of smoke they had inhaled.

      “What’s his name, ma’am?” Charlie asked as Serena checked the woman’s pulse and monitored her breathing.

      “Brian,” she replied. Her voice trembled and her hands shook. “I don’t know how to help him when he gets like this. It’s so hard to help him.”

      “We’re here to help you both,” Charlie said to reassure her. He approached Brian slowly. “Hi, Brian. My name’s Charlie.”

      Brian didn’t respond. His hands stayed clamped over his ears. The blaring sirens probably hadn’t helped his state of mind any. Charlie crouched down so they were eye level and attempted to gauge the young man’s condition without touching him. He was wheezing a little bit, but there didn’t seem to be anything obstructing his airway.

      “I know all this is pretty overwhelming, but I heard you were in the kitchen with all that smoke. I’m going to check your pulse, so I have to touch you on the wrist. Okay?”

      Again, there was no answer from the boy, but his mom nodded her head when Charlie looked to her for permission. Cautiously, Charlie reached for Brian’s hand. Serena opened the blood pressure cuff at the same time, the sound of Velcro separating startling Brian. He reacted violently, kicking his legs and flailing his arms. Charlie took a strong left hook to the jaw.

      “Leave me alone!” Brian cried before coughing uncontrollably.

      Serena came over to help. Her voice was quiet but firm. “Brian, we’re paramedics here to help you. You inhaled some smoke. I need you to calm down.”

      Charlie could taste the blood in his mouth. His teeth had bitten into his cheek and his jaw was throbbing. Brian’s mom tried to bring him under control, but he would not be subdued. Charlie gathered his wits and went to his bag for a sedative. For the safety of everyone involved, they had no option but to give Brian a shot. Within seconds, the teen was docile and his eyelids heavy.

      “I’m so sorry,” his mom said over and over. “He’s not a violent person. He’s a sweet boy.”

      Charlie assured her he was unhurt and that she didn’t have to apologize. Now that the boy was relaxed, they could move Brian to a stretcher and give him some oxygen.

      “That was some hit. You sure you’re okay?” Serena asked Charlie, taking a look in his mouth to assess the damage.

      “I’m fine.”

      Serena touched his tender jaw then tried to get a second glance inside her partner’s mouth, but he lifted his chin so she couldn’t see anything but his neck.

      “I’m fine,” he insisted. “We should bring them both in.”

      As they loaded mother and son into the ambulance, Charlie focused on the potential of seeing Emma at the hospital. It was the only bright spot in a less-than-stellar day.

      * * *

      AT THE HOSPITAL, the triage nurse got Brian and his mom settled in. Charlie stood at the nurses’ station, icing his jaw while Serena helped him fill out the paperwork to document his injury. He should have known better than to approach Brian when the boy was under that much duress.

      “I heard not even Mike Tyson could have taken that kid,” a voice said from behind.

      Charlie turned to find his Nightingale standing there in her navy scrubs. Her hair was down but pinned up in the front. Her cheeks and lips were a rosy red, and even though she’d probably been on her feet for several hours, she looked incredible.

      “I’m a lover not a fighter. I didn’t stand a chance.” It sort of hurt to smile, but he did it, anyway. The smile she gave him back was worth all the pain.

      “Ah, you’re a pacifist. Good to know. Are you all right?”

      “I’m fine.”

      Serena clearly couldn’t stop herself from butting in. “He keeps saying that, but he didn’t see the kid’s fist hit his face.”

      “No, but I felt it. I think I should know if I’m fine or not,” he said defensively. Serena had told him to act like a man, but she was making it next to impossible. Charlie didn’t mind when people called him a gentle giant, but he didn’t want to look as if he couldn’t take a hit.

      “Do you want me to check you out real quick? Make sure you don’t need any stitches or anything?” Emma offered. “That’s quite a bruise you’ve got already.” Her hand reached up and gently caressed his aching jaw. Her touch soothed better than the world’s greatest balm.

      “Maybe you should take a look,” he relented, opting to take advantage of every second he could get with her.

      “Come sit over here.” She led him into a small care room where she shone a light in his mouth. Her proximity made him feel a little light-headed. At least he hoped it was her and not the punch to the face. She smelled clean, like soap and baby powder.

      “I don’t think you need stitches, but I can grab a doctor if you want me to,” she offered.

      “No, I’m good.”

      She gave him a cup of water to clean out his mouth. Charlie couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She had a little mole on her collarbone and the thickest eyelashes he’d ever seen. Her eyes were brown but edged in green. They were so unusual and completely mesmerizing.

      “Do you want something for the pain?”

      “Nah. Thanks for taking care of me, though,” he said. “I’m not used to being the patient.”

      “I’m terrible about it, too. I think people in health care make the worst patients. But you’ve been pretty good. I’d treat you again.”

      She picked up his ice pack and pressed it carefully against his jaw. He flinched from the coldness.

      “Does that hurt?” Emma pulled the pack away. The worry in those gorgeous eyes warmed Charlie’s cheeks right up. “I’m sorry.”

      “It’s fine, just cold.” Charlie reached over and pressed her hand and the ice pack back against his face. She was so close that it made his heart beat faster. Thank goodness he wasn’t hooked up to any machines that would’ve given him away.

      Serena stepped into the room. “We got another call. Is he going to live?”

      Emma smiled as she slipped her hand out from underneath his. “He’s going to be fine.”

      Charlie wondered if he would be fine. Emma had a date to the wedding. This date could be a boyfriend. And even though he’d never met the guy, Charlie hated his guts. It was completely irrational for so many reasons. One being that he barely knew Emma. This crush was bigger than any he’d ever experienced, and if he didn’t have a chance with her, it had the potential to crush him.

      “He might need to come up with a better story than getting punched by a kid to explain that bruise, though. Something tells me the guys at the firehouse are not going to be very sympathetic,” Emma said.

      Truer words had never been spoken. It was bad enough that he had to fight for respect in the firehouse because he had chosen to be a paramedic and not a firefighter; the latter were always seen as being the “braver” of the two professions. Charlie was going to take a verbal beating over this incident. That kid couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred and twenty-five pounds soaking wet. He’d be hearing about this for months. At least until Jones did something stupid. Now that he thought about it, maybe he’d be off the hook sooner than later.

      “Maybe I staged the whole thing just to be taken care of by the lovely Nightingale.”

      Emma’s face turned red and she laughed in an attempt to mask