Page 78 of No Cap

They’d ordered food. Even Marla had gotten something.

But since I was off the floor at the time they’d discussed an order, I wasn’t asked if I wanted anything.

I liked my coworkers and all, but they were all very uncaring about others.

It was nothing personal that they didn’t include me in lunch. They’d have done the same thing to any of them had they been the ones off the floor.

I was usually the one to always include the others and would have today had I been there.

But oh well.

“Oh,” Tessa paused as she looked over at Carrie and Sky. “We thought that you’d already eaten.”

The way her face turned slightly pink, I knew that she might’ve actually thought that.

But Tessa was also a good actress.

I sometimes got the feeling that her home life was bad. But when asked about it, she always turned into this flamboyant storyteller who embellished just a little too much.

“No biggie,” I lied.

I’d left the apartment this morning with barely enough time to get to work—okay, if I was being honest, I left with enough time to drive there, not actually get up to the floor I worked on—let alone time to make a lunch.

To my sadness, I’d gotten to work today to find out that it was seafood day in the cafeteria.

I could’ve probably still eaten in there and been fine, but I’d learned too many lessons the hard way when it came to my shellfish allergy, I never ate at places that had readily available food because I couldn’t talk to the person making the food beforehand.

And since I didn’t usually order off the mobile ordering apps because I saw no point in entrusting my food to anyone, let alone paying the exorbitant fees to get it delivered to me, I chose to not eat.

Needless to say, the pizza was devoured, and I was feeling extra bouncy when the call came in that we were needed in the ER.

“Multiple gunshot wounds,” Sky said, eyes wide. “They say there are at least three police officers and four gang members involved.”

My stomach sank, and I reached for my phone, feeling this need to find out if he was okay.

It was like a clawing beast inside of me.

Only, it was as I pulled out my phone that I realized something—I didn’t have Quincy’s number.

Son of a bitch.

Stomach in knots, I headed down to the ER with my portable machine.

The ladies followed, much slower than me, and by the time I got down there, the entire floor was in chaos.

People were running everywhere, and not a single person cared that I was trying to get through.

I pulled up the computer that told me where I was needed and headed that way.

“…pupils aren’t equal or reactive,” I heard as I made my way toward trauma room three. “I’m hearing sucking sounds from his chest, too.”

“Fuckin’ awesome,” I heard someone say, and my heart leapt.

However, I knew without turning the corner that the man I was hearing wasn’t Quincy.

It was his exact lookalike, though.

Quaid.