That Emerald Vow (The Crimson Creed #2)

4. Chapter Four

“ M iley!” I yell out, feeling the sweat trickle down my back as I continue to do compressions on Mrs. Fowley, who is coding.

Miley, the newly graduated RN, is just staring with her mouth agape, pale as a ghost. What the actual fuck!

Unlike Mrs. Fowley, my heart is racing with adrenaline pumping through my veins. “You will not die on me, dammit.”

I look back up to Miley. “I need you to switch off.” After there is no response, I yell out again, “Miley. For fuck’s sake, I need you to switch off.”

Her terrified eyes fill with tears as she meets my pissed off gaze. “I-I can’t.”

I have been doing this by myself for the last four minutes, and as strong as I’m, I’m getting exhausted and can’t vouch for the quality of compressions I’m doing anymore. My whole body heats as I continue to grow frustrated that there’s no one on this floor to help me except this moron of a nurse. “And why not?” I ask, continuing to pump down on my patient’s chest as I count in my head.

“Uh . . . Uh . . .” she starts, looking around frantically until her eyes fall on her belly. “I-I-I’m pregnant.” Fat fucking chance.

I groan as I try my best to keep going. “Go call Jimmy’s team from upstairs.” Miley looks up at me, confused at the directive.

“RIGHT NOW!” I scream, and I don’t care if it’s unprofessional anymore. A patient’s life is at risk.

I’m no stranger to watching life leave someone’s body. And if this was an asshole who Lily and I had strung up somewhere, I wouldn’t bat an eye at letting them die. Hell, I would enjoy watching them suffer as they leave the world to meet their maker. But here? At the hospital, my patients are important to me. And there is no way I’m letting their death come without a fucking fight to save them.

Thankfully, moments later, I hear three members of Jimmy’s team run up to help. We quickly switch off so I can take a break, and we let out a deep exhale of relief when the monitor beeps to indicate her pulse. We saved her.

“Go take a fifteen, Thatcher. We got this,” Jimmy says as he comes from behind.

“Thank you! Keep me posted on her.”

I head towards the break room and pass Miley on my way, who is cowering in the corner. She needs to find a new job because she’s gonna get someone killed. I shake it off, focusing on taking a mindful break, which is a rarity at this job. My body is exhausted and needs this before I return to the floor to finish out my shift.

I take out my phone from my scrubs pocket after plopping down hard on the old, puke green couch in the break room. You would think with us working such long and rigorous hours, they would pay to get us something more comfortable. But nope, we have this ancient couch nobody could ever want that feels and looks like a hand-me-down from a great-great-great-grandmother.

Pulling up my social media app, I see that an @devilishlyhaysome started following me and has sent me a private message. Looking at the profile picture brings a smile to my face—it’s Damon. Going on his feed, I see it’s full of pictures of him, his motorcycle, and some with Adrian. His full name, Damon Hayes, makes me chuckle. Clever man with his choice of username. I may or may not have zoomed in on the one with his shirtless body just for research purposes . . . Yum, I think to myself as I unconsciously shift in my seat. Nothing happened that night other than us dancing and continuing to have a good time. It would be too complicated to have a one night stand with my best friend’s maybe-sorta-boyfriend’s best friend. Even saying that is a mouthful. But there’s something about him that draws me in even a few days after meeting for the first time.

Clicking the message button, I go to the text he sent me earlier today.

Damon:

Chaos siren, huh? I dig it.

He’s referring to my own username, @chaossiren, which I made during my college days. I fell in love with it, so it stuck. I smile, typing a response back.

Me:

Well, we can’t all be devilishly hayesome. So we gotta settle for some fun chaos.

Me:

P.S. love the play on your last name. Very clever.

I close the message to go scroll aimlessly for five minutes before heading back on the floor, figuring I won’t get a response back as I’m currently working an overnight shift and it’s 4 AM. I’m pleasantly surprised to see the three small dots on the screen showing that he is not only awake but responding to my message.

Damon:

Thank you! You’re up pretty late. Work?

Me:

Yeah, the wonderful graveyard shift that no one else wants. How about you? Why are you up so late?

Damon:

Insomniac. I find it hard to sleep at night

Me:

Me too . . . That’s why I prefer working this late.

Damon:

We can sleep when we’re dead, right? Lol.

Me:

Lol. Exactly. Fun is for the living.

Damon:

Speaking of fun. It wasn’t bad hanging out the other night.

Me:

I mean you weren’t a total bore either.

Damon:

I still owe you that other drink, gem.

My heart flutters at the sight of his nickname for me. Only two people call me by my full name, my mother and him . . . Everyone else calls me Charlie or Char for short. But I’ve never been given my very own nickname suited just for me. It makes me feel special.

“Special . . . You’ll never be special, Charlotte.”

“Oh, my special, special girl you are, Charlotte.”

My veins ice over as thoughts intrude my head and I’m reminded that I’m not special and will never be. And that the last person I trusted who called me that . . . well, he ruined me for good.

The alarm on my phone starts to beep, signaling that I need to get back to work. I stand up, straighten out my scrub shirt and wiping off the imaginary dirt—just like my mother taught me. “ You must always be presentable, Charlotte. Everyone is always watching . . . judging.”

“Especially you, Mother,” I mutter under my breath. Before walking towards the exit, I look down at my phone one last time to see his message. My heart constricts at the thought of whatever friendship is forming here. I can’t do this right now.

I close my phone and put it on DO NOT DISTURB before heading back to work, focusing on my patients and not the handsome man sneaking his way into my thoughts.

Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . . Bzzzz . . .

“UGH!” I grunt as I blindly slap my hand onto my mahogany nightstand in search of my phone. “Who the fuck is calling me?” I didn’t get home from my shift until eight this morning. And it’s currently 10 AM according to my phone, which has “Vivian Thatcher is calling . . .” displayed on the screen.

I groan louder before answering. “Hello, Mother,” I say, making sure to keep my tone neutral.

“Charlotte, good, you’re awake.” I am now, I think as I sit up in my bed. “I was afraid you would still be asleep. Such a nasty habit, to sleep in.”

Not when you work three overnight shifts in a row it isn’t. I roll my eyes, thankful that this is a phone call and not an in-person conversation. “What can I do for you, Mother?” I ask, not able to contain my frustration.

She audibly scoffs, “Don’t you dare take that tone with me, young lady. I raised you better than that.”

“I’m sorry.” I shift unconsciously, sitting up straighter, even though she can’t see me.

“Hmm.” My imagination can easily conjure up exactly how she looks right now, with her custom, tailored pantsuit, not a hair out of place as her lips are formed into a thin, disapproving line. “I was calling to make sure you remember your father’s birthday is coming up.”

“Yes, I have already planned for the time off.” She may not agree, but my mother has trained me well. I may defy her in all the ways that count, now that I’m not living under her regime, but some things have been ingrained into me from a young age.

“Good. Demetri will be joining us as well, and . . .” she says, but her voice fades off into the abyss after I hear his name. I was really hoping death would have found my mother’s brother or me before we ever had to cross paths again. Especially after what happened a few months ago.

“Why is he coming? He and Dad don’t like each other,” I hesitantly ask.

“Your father may not always see eye to eye with Demetri, but he is family. And we always stick by family,” she taunts. Unless the family is me . . . You never stuck by me.

She continues, letting out a deep sigh. “I need you to remember that your childish, made-up stories better not be an issue. It is your father’s day, and he deserves to have a civilized dinner.”

I open my mouth to object, but what’s the point? “Yes, Mother.”

She continues the conversation, informing me of the preparations for the birthday dinner, and I can’t help but dissociate. While one part of my consciousness is answering my mother’s never-ending questions, the other part of me is curled into a ball in a dark room—absolutely numb.

When I finally get off the phone, I decide to text Lily to see if she’s up for some crime-fighting fun tonight. After learning of the impending doom of seeing my uncle again, I could use some de-stressing in the form of pummeling my fists into an unsuspecting predator.

I know Lily would jump at the opportunity to help cover up an accidental death coming to him , but it’s a chapter of my life and the devil of my story that I try to avoid at all costs. My family’s outlook has always been to brush everything under the rug and pretend it’s all okay—be perfect. So, even though I know he deserves to be punished for his wrongs, some part of me can’t bring myself to serve that justice.

Looking at us, you’d just think we’re two, simple, do-gooders trying to help the world through our professions. However, what people don’t know is that after one night that went too far, we started to hunt down men like the ones who tried to take everything from us. We have a running filing system of known and suspected predators in our area, and we are slowly taking them down one by one. Since Lily’s return, our current big target is the assassin-for-hire organization called “X.” It’s proving to be more difficult than we initially thought it would be.

Unfortunately, Lily responds back saying she has a date with Adrian, but shes open to going out tomorrow night. I can’t help but push out my bottom lip and proceed to check my other messages—knowing sleep will evade me now. And even if I do fall asleep, it will be riddled with nightmares of my childhood.

Damon sent me another message while I slept, and my heart flutters in my chest as my eyebrows and nose scrunch in confusion at the feeling. When I open the message, I see he sent me a message of an Instagram carousel of foxes. In the first one, it’s a cute baby fox, but as you scroll, you see how vicious and clever that tiny fox is.

Damon:

I saw this and thought of you. Lovely on the outside, but a beautiful force to be reckoned with on the inside.

My eyes fill with foreign tears as my heart constricts again. I’m not used to being seen with such intensity. The only person who gets the honor of knowing the real me is Lily. She is the only person in the world I trust. But Damon, even with one meeting and a few random messages, is making me feel things that I locked away in a box—vowing to never let out.

I open up the search bar in the app to find images and scroll until I find the perfect picture: a baby raccoon sticking his head out of a trash can. My lips curve up in a smile as I hit the little arrow and send it to Damon.

Me:

And this little trash panda reminds me of you! ;)

A few minutes later, when I myself am rummaging through my kitchen like a raccoon, I hear a ding from my notifications. I grab my phone, hoping it’s him. My body is filled with this bubbly excitement—something about him makes me want to engage and get to know him better. It’s like that feeling of meeting that person who just gets you without words. I’ve only ever had that feeling with one person in my life, Lily.

Damon:

Quite a handsome fella, isn’t he.

Me:

Definitely. Nicer to look at than his hayesome counterpart. Lol .

Damon:

Cause you weren’t staring at that hayesome face all night the other night. ;) I can tell when a woman finds me attractive, my little gem.

My cheeks flush at his comment—I was hoping he didn’t notice. He is definitely sexy in the most rugged yet boyish way. He looks like the devil incarnate with his grunge style clothes, medium-length straight hair, and my God, that huge, dimpled smile. I feel heat erupt down to my core imagining all that that mouth can probably do.

Ugh. I’m in such a dry spell. I definitely need to get laid.

Me:

Oh, baby, like you weren’t also checking me out every chance you got.

Damon:

Guilty as charged.

Me:

So about that drink? I’ll be honest, I’ve had a lousy start to my morning and need a good man to help relieve some of that tension.

Me:

NOT you. I see you typing. Calm down.

Me:

But I propose we go grab that drink and be each other’s wingman.

Damon:

Boo! You’re no fun! Lol. Kidding. That actually sounds perfect. Pick you up at 9?

Me:

I’m a lot of fun, baby. But you only get to see the fun girl in the streets, not the one in the sheets. You haven’t earned it yet.

Damon:

Oh, Char, I’m always up for a challenge. For now though, I’ll settle for helping each other. It’s gonna be fun.

Do I want him to be up for the challenge? I’m not sure. What I do know is that I need to choose the sexiest outfit. I’m ready for a night out on the prowl, where I can forget my looming family troubles.