I shake my head. “From what I understand, he’s been admitted to an asylum.” Mom’s frown darkens, which has me explaining. “It’s Mr. McKay. His son was your patient a couple of months back.”
Shock washes over Mom’s features, and it has me reaching for her arm. “The loss of his son led to him suffering a breakdown. He was at Trinity for me, and Carla got caught in the crossfire when the guards tackled him to the ground.”
Mom lifts her hands to her face, covering her mouth in disbelief. I pull her into a hug and murmur, “It’s not your fault. You did your best to save his son.”
Mom shakes her head, and pulling back, she asks, “So he wanted to kill you? He wanted revenge?” Her chin begins to quiver, and I pull her back against me. Rubbing a hand over her back, I say, “I’m okay. Carla and the baby are recovering well.”
Mom looks up at me, shaking her head. “But still, Carla got shot because I lost a patient.”
“Mom,” I say, my tone firmer, “you can’t take the blame for someone else’s actions. You did your best to save his son. What Mr. McKay did was all on him. Even if he had a mental breakdown, it was still a choice he made.”
Mom nods, then she gasps, “I can’t believe this happened.” Her eyes lock on mine. “I’m so sorry, Noah.”
Shaking my head, my face softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Mom nods again. “I need to process it all. I’ll talk to Julian and Jamie. God, like it wasn’t awful enough, to begin with.”
“They don’t blame you,” I tell Mom. “They know it was an irrational act of violence.”
There’s a knock at the door. Mom gives me an apologetic look. “I have a patient to see.”
“Get back to work. I’m just going to get some things for Carla, then I’ll be with her.”
“I’ll come find you later.”
We hug before Mom opens the door, and I quickly leave so she can continue with her work.
Damn, that sucked.
After stopping by the suite and packing a hospital bag for Carla, I rush back to her.
By the time I walk into her room, it feels as if hours have passed, and I’m agitated.
Carla seems to be asleep. I place the bag down on the coffee table in the corner, where a small lounge is set up.
Mrs. Reyes smiles at me and gets up to come check what’s in the bag, then she says, “I’m going to get something to eat. Can I bring you something?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No, thanks, Mrs. Reyes.”
“You can call me Jamie,” she chuckles, then she explains, “Julian said he spoke with you.”
The corner of my mouth lifts slightly, then I ask, “How’s Carla? Has Dr. Wells been here?”
Jamie shakes her head. “Not yet. Carla’s better. She just gets breathless when talking.” She begins to walk to the door, then she asks, “Will you call me if Dr. Wells comes while I’m gone?”
“Sure.”
When the door shuts quietly behind her, I walk to the side of the bed. Leaning over Carla, I press my mouth to the side of her head, and then I take a deep breath.
The agitation bleeds away, and I instantly feel calmer.
“You’re back,” Carla suddenly murmurs.
Sitting down on the side of the bed, I brace my right hand beside her head. My eyes lock with hers. “How do you feel?”
“Much better.” She lifts her left hand and grips hold of my forearm. “Especially now that you’re here.”
“Have you sat up yet?” I ask, knowing it’s essential for her to start moving around.
When she shakes her head, I slowly help her into a sitting position. Her left hand moves to my shoulder.
I press a kiss to her cheek, then ask, “How’s that?”
“Okay,” she murmurs.
I position the pillows so Carla can lean against them. “Relax.”
She leans back, then she removes the oxygen mask. “My mom told me about the shooter.”
My gaze locks on hers, and reaching a hand up, I brush her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.”
Carla shakes her head. “I can’t believe he wanted to…” there’s a flash of pain on her face, “…hurt you.”
“Is sitting up causing you pain?” I ask.
“No, I’m fine,” Carla says, her voice stronger. She rests her hand against my jaw. “I’m worried about you. What if he comes after you again?”
Giving her a comforting smile, I say, “He’s in an asylum, Carla.”
“Yeah, but…”
I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.” I lean closer to her and tilt my head. “I won’t let something like this happen again. I promise.”
“You can’t make a promise like that,” she argues.
Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek. “It’s my duty to protect you. I failed you once. I won’t fail you again.”
Carla shakes her head, whispering, “Noah.”