The first person she saw as she walked through the doors of the ER was Marshall Collins. She tapped Matt’s chest again, taking in how young he looked. She knew he was twenty-seven only because she’d asked, but she swore he could’ve passed for eighteen, easy.
“That’s him,” she said, “the ER doctor responsible for this mess. We have him to thank.”
He was talking to a couple of nurses, laughing about something, wearing blue scrubs with a white coat pulled overtop, his conservative dark hair appearing far too neat for a doctor in a busy ER.
“Billy Jo, what is the objective here?” Matt said.
She thought for a moment that he sounded scared. She stopped and faced him, her coat unzipped, her bulky bag slipping off her shoulder. She slid the strap back up. “Matt, do I need to walk you through t
