Brad Lipski

Colin sat heavily on his feet.

Ah, so he had failed.

His patient hadn't survived.

His first patient in White Shore.

He took a deep breath.

"There was nothing more you could have done," the paramedic informed him. "He probably…"

"Yes, I know."

"That CPR was very professional." The paramedic's voice sounded muffled somehow, as if coming from far away.

"I'm a doctor," Colin explained as he got up with effort. "I need to check on the other patients."

"All right. I'll help you."

But there wasn't much to do, really. The bus passengers were shaken, scared, but they had apparently expected the impact and managed to brace themselves. There were only a few bruises and minor cuts, which the nurse had already taken care of. Only one patient had a suspected fracture—or rather, a crack in the forearm bone. There was no more work left for Colin.

Ah, right, the jeep driver.

He grabbed his bag, in which he habitually carried a first-aid kit, and looked around for the man in the black T-shirt. He stood nearby, watching grimly as the paramedics covered the bus driver's body and lifted it onto a stretcher.

"Come on, I need to patch you up," Stone said to him. The man flinched, then approached Colin without protest. He was almost a head taller than him. It would be more comfortable if the jeep driver sat down. "Let's go over there," he pointed to a bench in the shade, against the building's wall. "Sit down."

The man obeyed. He was somber and silent, his gaze constantly drawn to the body on the stretcher, now being transported to the ambulance. Colin could bet he knew exactly what he was thinking.

"It's not your fault," he said as he put on fresh nitrile gloves and took out the bandages. No stitches would be necessary, he decided after cleaning the wound. Just a scrape and a small cut. "He was already dead before you hit the bus."

"You said it was a heart attack…"

"That's what I suspect. It was hot in the bus. The air conditioning probably broke. In this heat, the most likely issues are heart attacks and strokes. I'd bet on a heart attack."

"You're sure I didn't…"

Colin nodded. The guy wasn't any more responsible for the driver's death than he was. Still, he was probably taking it much harder. Doctors, in their own way, had to grow accustomed to situations like this. It wasn't pleasant, but it was part of the job. Whereas this man might have been facing death in such a direct way for the first time.

"There were no external injuries that could have caused his death," Colin explained. "My hypothesis is that the heat triggered a heart attack, he lost consciousness and control of the wheel. His advanced age and excess weight… As a doctor, I've seen many cases like this."

Maybe too many. People didn't take care of their health enough—proper diet, rest, avoiding unnecessary stress. And then, all it took was one moment in the wrong conditions, and it was over—drastically and suddenly.

"All done," he announced, finishing the bandaging. He straightened up and was immediately hit by a wave of dizziness.

He didn't even realize when he ended up sitting on the bench, supported by someone's arm. The air smelled of iris and cedar.

"Hold on a second," he heard, as if through thick cotton.

Damn it! He cursed silently, closing his eyes. Seriously? He leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. It was still damp with sweat. That was good. He'd start worrying if he stopped sweating.

Along with the weakness, embarrassment set in. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake, and yet he was succumbing to something like this. Oh, great. He just hoped the guy in the black T-shirt had no connection to the clinic beyond knowing the nurse. Otherwise, at their next meeting, Colin wouldn't be able to look him in the eye.

He felt a cold bottle of water placed in his hand. A shiver ran through his entire body.

"Thanks," he said and emptied the 16.9-ounce bottle in a few gulps. He immediately felt better. At least physically. Mentally… Well, losing a patient, even when there was nothing he could have done to save them, even when he had done everything in his power, was never a pleasant experience. Even if this wasn't the first patient he had lost.

At least this time, he didn't have to look into the eyes of the family as they learned about the death of a loved one.

He took a deep breath. Forced a cheerful smile onto his face. He wanted to get out of this with his dignity intact. He wanted to say something to excuse his weakness, but nothing came to mind. Maybe it would be best if he just disappeared and hoped they wouldn't meet again. Besides, he still needed to get to the clinic and check on the rest of the patients. Maybe there was a taxi stand somewhere nearby?

The jeep driver stood over him, watching him closely. Colin had seen his face a few times before, but never had time to take a good look. Maybe that was for the best—otherwise, he might have lost focus, and as a doctor, he couldn't afford that. The man had a wild mane of dark, almost black hair that stubbornly fell over his forehead, partially covering the bandage. His piercing dark eyes gleamed in his tanned, ruggedly masculine, and even more ruggedly handsome face. He looked to be around the same age as Colin—somewhere just shy of thirty. Probably. Roughly speaking. And he wasn't just tall but clearly athletic.

Looking at him, for some reason, Colin felt his cheeks heat up.

"You're Colin Stone, right?" the jeep driver asked. "Our new doctor? I'm Brad Lipski. I was supposed to take care of you, show you around, and drive you to your new home."

"Oh!"

So he was the driver who had been late! Colin's cheeks burned even hotter. So much for avoiding further contact with this guy. Instinctively, he glanced toward the accident scene and only now noticed two police cars. Seriously, when did they arrive?

"Your Jeep..."

"It's running. I'll talk to the police and see if I can take it. If not, we'll go with Stacy. Stacy is your nurse."

"Oh, the redhead..."

Embarrassed, he pressed his lips together. He shouldn't talk like that about a woman working for him. He must have been too tired and lost focus.

"Yes, the redhead," Lipski smiled but quickly regained his composure. "I think we should go straight to your new home..."

"I'd rather see the clinic first."

"As you wish, but..."

They looked into each other's eyes, and Colin felt himself blushing again. There was so much worry and concern in Brad's gaze that it made Stone uncomfortable.

"You don't have to worry about me," he growled. "I didn't have a stroke. Thirty minutes of CPR would exhaust anyone..."

"I'm not saying otherwise," Lipski replied calmly. "Anyway, as you wish. The clinic and your apartment are a ten-minute walk apart. By car, it's three minutes at most. Will you wait here for me? I'll talk to the police."

"Yeah, sure. And Brad!" he called out as the man was already walking away.

"Yes?" Brad turned back.

"Thanks for the water."

"And I thank you for this?" he pointed at the bandage on his forehead. "I'll be right back!" he said and ran toward the police officers talking to the bus passengers.

Colin Stone sighed. He hated awkward situations, and by his standards, this one was highly awkward.

Did he really have to pass out? Him? A doctor? And in front of other people, no less?

He watched Lipski talking to the officers, gesturing as he explained something. Right, he was probably giving his statement as a participant, maybe even the cause of the accident. The officers were taking notes. Even the paramedic approached them to clarify something. Colin observed them, having nothing better to do at the moment. When Lipski turned his head toward him, and their eyes met, a slight shiver ran down Colin's spine. Those dark eyes looked like those of a pit bull that knew it had done something wrong—predatory, dangerous, and guilty.

Damn it, Colin's year-long stay in White Shore was definitely not starting the way he had hoped.