The Firefighter Who Rescues Me

Chapter 3 ♚ Another Miracle

I did end up arriving in Silver Grove—via ambulance.

The gash on my forehead was a good hint that I might have a concussion but according to the paramedics' conversation, I'd been lucky that my brain hadn't been rattled even more. Or worse, my spine. They thought my case wasn't pressing enough to take me to a big hospital in Calgary and instead, they set course for the small Silver Grove hospital.

It wasn't like I'd had a great entrance in mind before, as if I'd stroll in through town and announce that an alpha woman was coming in to dethrone any alpha men they had available. But this certainly hadn't been what I envisioned about my new beginning. In the back of my mind, I wondered if this was some sort of heavy handed omen.

Those thoughts faded to the background as soon as I was wheeled out of the ambulance and into a series of examinations that lasted the whole night. Every time I dozed off, someone woke me up.

When I started to get pissed about it, I snarled at a nurse. "Why can't I just get some sleep? I'm exhausted."

"Sorry," he said in typical Canadian fashion, of starting even stern sentences with an apology. "We're just making sure your faculties are intact."

"I tell you what's not going to be intact if I can't sleep," I started, but before I could send everything to shit, the doctor who'd been taking care of my case came over with a clipboard in his hands. He read the contents for a quick second.

Finally, he gave me a smile. "Congratulations, Miss Diaz. Nothing abnormal came out in your scans. If you feel anything strange in the next twenty four hours, I'd suggest that you rush back to the ER. For now, you're good to go."

"Ay, gracias a Dios." My body deflated despite the fact that what my soul wanted to do was dance around the ER. Something hit me like a bolt that forced me to sit straight. "Wait, I have nothing. I lost all my car and all my things... including my phone, wallet and papers. I don't even know where I'm supposed to go."

My chest squeezed with a sudden worry. What should I do if I lost my papers? It wasn't like I'd be able to get a new passport, with the fact that I was here on asylum. And without the asylum documents I was technically illegal, which meant I could be deported. For the first time since arriving to the hospital, my eyes started to well up.

"Please, help."

"Is there anyone we could call?" the doctor asked me after exchanging a glance with the other guy.

"Uh." I racked my brains. Not a fruitful exercise, even without considering the night I'd just had, because I didn't know anybody's phone numbers from memory. The only thing I could think of was to say, "Lance Benoit. He's supposed to be my boss from today on."

"I know Lance, should be easy enough to reach him."

"Yeah, but I need my papers." My voice came out with the same difficulty that someone speaking with a block of ice down their throat would have.

Before I clung to the doctor's robes, the nurse who had almost borne the blunt of my temper interjected. He must have sensed the crazy in me about to spill over, because he modulated his voice to a level of sweetness I never knew a guy to be capable of. "We'll try to help, okay? In the meantime, you can catch the snooze you almost bit my head off for."

Oh, the saccharine tone was sarcasm.

"Thanks," I mumbled, recognizing I was at the mercy of strangers even though it made my skin crawl.

My family and friends would be proud of me, after killing me for having almost killed myself. That would all have to wait until I staved off exhaustion.