PULSE BETWEEN US

The scent of antiseptic burned Nina Roberts’ nostrils as the elevator doors slid open. She tightened her grip on the stethoscope hanging around her neck and stepped into the buzz of St. Aurora General Hospital’s emergency department. Her name badge felt too new, her scrubs too clean, and her heart—beating like a snare drum—reminded her she wasn’t just here to observe anymore. This was it. Her first official shift as a registered nurse. Monitors beeped in rhythmic chaos. A mother sobbed quietly in the corner. A man was being wheeled in, blood soaking through the towel pressed to his leg. Nurses zipped around like bees, focused and fast. “Roberts?” A stern voice snapped her out of the daze. She turned. A tall woman with a sharp bob and sharper eyes stood near the nurses’ station. “Charge Nurse Amanda,” the woman said, not offering a smile. “Trauma Room 2. Gunshot wound coming in. Let’s see if that fresh license means anything.” Nina nodded and followed, her sneakers silent on the polished floor. Inside Trauma 2, it was all motion and voices. “Male, 19, GSW to the upper abdomen. Stable vitals en route but dropped BP five minutes out,” someone shouted. Then he walked in. Dr. Adrian Cole. Everyone moved slightly out of his way, as if the air parted for him. His surgical mask hung around his neck, and his dark eyes were already scanning the patient like he could see beneath skin and bone. Nina had heard stories. Brilliant, cold, precise. The kind of doctor who saved lives and shattered egos in a single breath. “Get two IVs going,” he said, his voice calm like steel. “Prep for the OR. Where’s my surgical team?” “I-I’m here to assist,” Nina said, stepping forward. Dr. Cole barely glanced at her. “If you faint, don’t fall into the patient.” And just like that, she was in the fire. ⸻ Ten chaotic minutes later, with blood smeared across her gloves and adrenaline still racing through her veins, the trauma room emptied. The patient was wheeled to surgery. Nina stood frozen, breathless. Sam Cruz, her fellow new nurse and best friend, popped her head in. “You survived. Congrats, rookie. Want a cookie or a panic attack?” Nina let out a laugh she didn’t realize was stuck in her throat. “Both, preferably.” Sam grinned. “Night shift’s just beginning. Rumor is, we’ve got an escaped psych patient roaming the halls. And someone coded on 4B.” Nina’s smile faded. “Is it always like this?” Sam tilted her head. “No. Sometimes it’s worse.” ⸻ Later, while refilling IV trays in the supply room, Nina found a moment to breathe. Her hands trembled a little. “You were good in there,” a deep voice said behind her. She turned. Dr. Cole leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. He looked less terrifying without the chaos. “Thanks,” she said, surprised. He studied her for a beat longer than necessary. “Don’t let the adrenaline become your drug. You’ll burn out fast.” “Is that what happened to you?” A flicker crossed his face. Then he turned and walked away.