LITMIR.BIZ

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she received the news that Brendan had pulled the baby through the latest crisis and that the Neelys were waiting on five, in dire need of some consolation.

      Cassie returned to the fifth floor and spoke with the frazzled parents, doing her very best to assure them that their daughter was receiving excellent care under Dr. O’Connor’s expert guidance. She encouraged them to go to the cafeteria for some coffee; they would be paged if anything changed. When they insisted on staying nearby, Cassie set out to find Brendan.

      She donned a paper gown and entered the NICU. Once inside, she conducted a visual search and encountered the usual flurry of activity among the staff, several she acknowledged with a brief greeting. Sounds of periodic alarms and the hiss of ventilators rang in her ears. In the most critical area, rows of transparent incubators held babies of all sizes and conditions, some so small they were barely visible among all the lines and tubes. A few parents sat near the tiny beds, touching with care in an attempt to bond with their babies, infants who could not be held because of the detriment to their fragile conditions.

      Time suspended in this place of heartache and hope. Cassie had seen it all before, the sadness, the joy, the precious battle for life from the smallest of warriors. She had dealt with disheartened parents and provided bereavement counseling when necessary, all facets of her job. Yet she didn’t know if she could deal with the stress of caring for sick babies on a daily basis. How did Brendan do it, day in and day out?

      When she didn’t immediately see Brendan, Cassie approached one of the nurses crouched in front of a supply cabinet. ‘‘Excuse me, Millie.’’

      The woman looked back, and recognition dawned in her expression. She smiled. ‘‘Hi, Cassie. What can I do for you?’’

      ‘‘I just finished speaking with the Neelys. How’s their little girl doing?’’

      Millie glanced at a nearby crib where another nurse and respiratory therapist stood close by monitoring the baby girl. ‘‘Okay, for now. Dr. O’Connor worked like the devil to bring her around. That guy is amazing.’’

      Cassie couldn’t agree more. ‘‘Do you know where he is?’’

      ‘‘He left a while ago after talking to the parents.’’ She nodded toward a man at the end of the aisle. ‘‘Dr. Segovia’s relieving him.’’

      ‘‘Did Dr. O’Connor say where he was going?’’

      Millie shrugged. ‘‘Home, I guess. He wanted to stick around but Segovia told him to get out of here.’’

      Cassie’s concern increased ten-fold. ‘‘Is he okay?’’

      Millie’s brows drew down beneath the blue cap covering her salt-and-pepper hair. ‘‘I probably shouldn’t mention this, but he really did need to go. Normally he’s pretty calm under pressure, but today he was a wreck, barking orders at everyone. He’s got the whole department in an uproar. In the year that he’s been here, I’ve never seen him like that before.’’

      ‘‘For some reason he’s taking this one hard.’’

      ‘‘Maybe the whole atmosphere is finally getting to him. This place can be a hotbed for burnout, I tell you.’’

      Cassie intended to find out exactly what was going on with Brendan and what she could do to help. ‘‘I’ll see you around, Millie. If anything happens with the Neely baby, have someone call me at home or on my cell phone. I’ll come back in.’’

      ‘‘Sure thing, Cassie.’’

      Bent on a mission, Cassie hurried back to her office and gathered a few files she could work on at home. She picked up the phone and dialed Brendan’s number. No answer. Although she’d never been to his apartment, he’d told her that he lived not more than ten minutes away. Maybe he stopped somewhere to have a drink or dinner. She hated to think about him doing either alone.

      After she pounded out his cell phone number, his voice mail kicked in. Cassie opted not to leave a message. She would go home and try again. And again and again until she reached him, even if it took all night.

      He kicked the dumpster twice in an attempt to expend some of his anger. Not finding any relief, Brendan turned the anger on his car, pounding his fist into the door. The shooting pain in his knuckles did nothing to alleviate his frustration, his fury.

      He braced his palms on the top of the sedan and lowered his head, relieved that no one was in the outdoor parking lot to play witness to his stupidity.

      The emotions were no strangers. They came calling the same time each year. Today had been worse than before, compounded by his efforts to save an infant barely hanging on to a slender thread of life, knowing that it might be only a matter of time before the baby lost her battle.

      Even though he fought against his own well-guarded memories, they came rushing back on a surge of bitter recollections, his experience as fresh in his mind as if it had happened yesterday.

      Thirteen years ago he had lost his baby son.

      That loss had led him to his career, driven by a powerful need to never let anyone suffer the same anguish of watching their child die, if he could help it. But he wasn’t God, and although there had been many victories, the failures still ate at his soul like potent acid.

      ‘‘Brendan?’’ Cassie’s cotton-soft voice floated in on the breeze from behind him.

      He was suddenly caught between wanting to tell her to go away and leave him to his misery, and an overwhelming need for her to stay. He could use her strength right now but he had no right to ask. Not after last night.

      Slowly he turned to face her, the setting sun burnishing her blond hair, turning it to a rich gold. She looked beautiful in that moment, and worried.

      Her eyes widened as she zeroed in on his hand. ‘‘You’re bleeding!’’

      He hadn’t even noticed the trickle of blood trailing down his arm. ‘‘I’m okay. It’s only a scrape.’’

      Her expression was grim. ‘‘No, you’re not okay. What are you still doing here? Millie told me you’d gone home.’’

      He leaned back against the car and swiped his arm against his thigh, leaving a streak of blood on his scrub pants. ‘‘I locked my damned keys in the car.’’

      She walked over to him and gently clasped his hand in hers to examine his wound. ‘‘And you decided to beat the door down?’’

      ‘‘Something like that.’’

      ‘‘Leave the car here and come home with me. I can clean this up for you.’’

      He yanked his hand from her grasp and immediately regretted the action when he noted the hurt in her eyes. ‘‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll call security and get them to unlock the door.’’

      ‘‘I don’t care about your car. I do care about you. You look like you’ve lost your best friend.’’

      No, he hadn’t, at least not yet. She was standing right in front of him. ‘‘It’s been a really sorry day, Cassie.’’

      ‘‘I know it has,’’ she said in that quiet counselor’s voice he’d heard her use on other people, and even at times on him. ‘‘That’s why you need to come to my place. I’ll fix you some dinner and we can watch one of those trauma shows.’’

      ‘‘Nothing like taking your work home with you.’’

      She shrugged and smiled. ‘‘We can find some cable channel and watch dirty movies. Or cartoons. Doesn’t matter to me.’’

      Watching dirty movies wasn’t something Brendan cared to do with Cassie. Not with the way he was feeling—frustrated and looking for a way to vent that frustration. Sex wasn’t an option, especially not with Cassie. Not that he wouldn’t like to make love to her, long and hard and all night. He wouldn’t risk it. He’d already taken one too many chances, made one

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