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knowing Lacey’s financial situation. They’d qualify for food support as well as basic health-care needs.

      “You’re going to be fine, Joel,” he tried to reassure his brother.

      “I don’t know,” Joel protested. “I’m not as strong as you, Brock.”

      “Yes, you are.” He wished he could give his brother the self-confidence he needed. “You’re stronger than you know.”

      “I’ll talk to you later,” Joel said evasively.

      He didn’t push, knowing Joel was under a huge amount of stress. Their father had basically tossed Joel onto the street. Brock had helped them move into a small duplex apartment and paid the security deposit along with the first three months of rent. Joel was only working part-time at a gas station, so Brock had also been trying to help his brother find a full-time job, one that would ideally provide decent benefits. Raising a child in this day and age without health insurance was not easy.

      He stared at his phone. Should he have offered to take Tucker to the clinic? No, as much as he wanted to help his brother, he couldn’t do everything for Joel. His brother would become more self-confident if he grew up a bit and took some responsibility.

      After tossing his cell phone back down on his discarded clothes, Brock flopped back down on his bed, throwing his arm up over his eyes. He wished he could fall back asleep, picking up the dream with Elana where he’d left off. For a few brief moments, her forgiveness had swept away the dark cloud of guilt, making him feel light-hearted and happy.

      But it was only a dream. In reality, Elana hadn’t forgiven him for the accident that had stolen her sister’s life. And, considering the way their conversation had ended so abruptly yesterday, he had to acknowledge she never would.

      He knew he needed to let it go, but the sting of her rejection continued to gnaw at him. Why he was letting it bother him, he had no idea. He’d carried the guilt of that night for a long time. Had changed his major to medicine the semester after the accident, vowing to make a difference in other people’s lives.

      He’d also done what he could for Elana. More than she realized. Yet nothing he could do would bring Felicity back.

      Her sister’s death had haunted him for years. No reason for that to change now.

      The best thing he could do for Elana was to stay far away from her. He’d caused her enough pain. He refused to cause any more.

      

      Elana hadn’t slept well, but her fatigue didn’t keep her in bed for long. Today was Wednesday, the day she was scheduled to work a four-hour stint volunteering at the low-income family clinic providing care to people who didn’t have access to better health care.

      Normally she enjoyed her hours at the clinic, as there was something immensely satisfying about helping people in need. Some of the cases were heart-wrenching, the pregnant mothers trying to overcome their addictions, or the young people who’d contracted HIV, but there were also a lot of people who just needed a helping hand.

      Today her head pounded with a dull ache she’d had ever since she’d woken up that morning. No doubt a result of a restless night, which was all Brock Madison’s fault.

      But she wasn’t going to think about him. Brock was just another ED doctor she’d have to work with. And if he liked trauma, then maybe she’d ask Stacey to assign her to one of the arena teams for a while. At least until she figured out what her options were.

      Staying in the ED long-term was clearly not going to work. She needed to find a new career and fast.

      Shaking off her depressing thoughts, Elana drove her tiny compact car down to the clinic. The clinic was in the middle of the low-income district, several miles from her tiny apartment. The clinic had to be close to where people in need lived because many of these clients didn’t have cars or other means of reliable transportation.

      Finding a parking space was always a challenge. As she walked inside the clinic, she discovered Tina Kaplan was the receptionist on duty.

      “Hi, Tina. How are you today?”

      “Great, Elana. How is your aunt Chloe doing?”

      All of the staff at the New Beginnings Clinic knew Chloe, her foster mother, had volunteered her time here as a receptionist while Elana was growing up. Elana was glad that she could now return the favor, carrying on her foster mother’s tradition. “She’s wonderful. The cardiac stent went very well.”

      “I’m so glad.” Tina handed over the list of patients who were already waiting to be seen. Their clients often began lining up at the door a half hour before the clinic officially opened.

      “Me too.” Elana took the list and scanned it, as always checking to see which of her previous clients might be making a return visit. “Thanks, Tina. Who’s the doctor coming in today?”

      “Hmm.” Tina glanced up at the handwritten schedule. “Looks like Liz Jacoby is the MD on the schedule today.”

      Liz was an exceptionally talented African-American woman who donated a lot of her time to the New Beginnings Clinic. Most of their clients didn’t know that Liz Jacoby was also a nationally renowned breast cancer physician. Elana loved working with her. Her dull headache began to fade. “Excellent. We should have a good day, then.”

      “When do you want me to start sending patients back?” Tina asked.

      “Give me five minutes to make sure everything is well stocked, and then you can let ’em rip.”

      Tina laughed, and Elana smiled as she headed back to the exam room. She routinely saw the patients first and then got the physician involved in their care as needed. Their system would have worked better with more volunteers, but so far, other than Raine, she hadn’t convinced any of her other co-workers to help by donating their time.

      The first few patients came through with simple enough concerns. One woman had a bad cough with a fever that Elana suspected was a case of bronchitis turning into pneumonia. The next two patients were severely dehydrated from the stomach flu that was making its way through the city. Another young man came in with a serious burn on his forearm, with a story she absolutely did not believe.

      “Jackson, there is no way you got this burn from a lighter falling on your arm,” she told him sternly. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? I can tell this is a gasoline burn. So why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

      The young man refused to talk. Elana sighed and applied a generous amount of ointment to the burn, wrapping it with gauze to keep it clean and dry. Maybe Liz would be able to pry more information out of the taciturn young man.

      “Elana?” Tina called from the other side of the door.

      “Yes?”

      “How much longer? There’s a young woman and a crying baby that need to get in to see you right away.”

      That didn’t sound too good. She reached over and opened the door. “I’m nearly finished. Jackson just needs to see Dr Jacoby while I get his wound supplies together.”

      “I’ll do it. Tell me what he needs.”

      Elana raised a brow. “What’s going on? Is the baby that sick?”

      “I don’t know, but the mother is crying almost as hard as the baby.” Tina’s eyes were full of compassionate concern. “I can’t stand it.”

      “All right, get him ten rolls of gauze and a jar of burns cream. Jackson, you need to change this dressing twice a day and return here to the clinic in five days, do you understand? We need to make sure that burn doesn’t get infected.”

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      Tina hustled the young man out of the exam room, taking him over to see the doctor. Elana quickly threw out the paper strip from the exam table and wiped down the surface with a disposable bleach cloth. Within two minutes, a young waif-thin girl lugging a crying

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