“Ow!”
“Sorry. It doesn’t appear to be broken. It does look like a bad sprain though. I’ll get you an ice pack.” Moira headed over to Gil’s fridge, noting all the photos of Doug and him attached to the surface with magnets. Gil had always been like best friends with his brother. It was something she admired. Growing up, she’d had a lot of friends who refused to hang out with their younger siblings, but not Gil.
Locating an ice pack in the side door of the freezer, she carried it over to put on Doug’s ankle, crouching beside him. “You mentioned needing a medication. What kind of medicine are you taking, Doug?”
“Orange juice,” Doug said matter-of-factly.
“Orange juice?” Moira furrowed her brow. “That’s the medicine you were talking about?”
He pointed at the fridge. “For my blood sugar.”
“Oh. Okay.” Moira stood and walked over to the fridge. She opened the door and pulled out a carton of juice, setting it on the counter. Then she checked the cabinets and located a glass. Once she’d filled the glass halfway, she handed it to Doug, watching as he drained the entire thing in one huge gulp.
“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” he finally said. He didn’t look as pale anymore. A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips.
“Just doing my job,” Moira said. But going to a caller’s home wasn’t her job. Her job was to stay on the dispatch. Would she get in trouble for this? Or even fired?
The sound of the front door opening and closing got Moira’s attention.
“Doug?” a man’s voice called.
Moira immediately felt her face flush. She knew that voice well. She’d just heard it this morning when she’d been unnecessarily rude.
“In the kitchen!” Doug’s voice no longer sounded shaky or weak. The orange juice really had made an immediate difference.
Gil hurried into the kitchen, stopping short when he saw Moira crouching at Doug’s side. “What happened?”
“I called nine-one-one,” Doug told him.
Gil’s eyes widened. “Why? Are you okay?”
“I got dizzy, and Goldie knocked me down. Moira came over and gave me an ice pack,” Doug told him.
“He also asked for orange juice,” Moira said.
Gil’s gaze hung on Doug for a minute. He seemed to be analyzing whether Doug really was okay. “Juice is a good way to raise blood sugar levels quickly. Doug has type two diabetes. It’s a recent diagnosis.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.” Moira straightened back to a standing position. “Well, he seems to be doing better now. I don’t think his ankle is broken, but I do think it’s sprained. He might need a doctor to check it.”
“Of course. I’ll see if Dr. Reynolds can work him in.”
Moira nodded. “Now that you’re here, I really do have to go. I’m not supposed to leave the dispatch. But no one was responding to Doug’s call.”
“Everyone is working the accident on Hannigan,” Gil said.
“Yes, they are. Why didn’t you answer Doug’s calls?” she asked, not meaning for her tone to come out accusatory.
Gil looked rattled for a moment. “I was in a meeting. I had to put my phone on silent mode. It was a media interview.”
“It’s okay, Gil,” Doug said, looking offended by the conversation. “I can take care of myself, you know. I’m an adult.”
Moira turned to Doug. “Of course. Even adults need someone they can call when they’re in trouble though. Are you feeling better?”
Doug’s offense melted away, and he smiled. “It still hurts, but Gilly is here now.”
Moira shared a glance with Gil. “Gilly, huh?”
“It’s a childhood nickname that Doug won’t let go.” Gil laughed. “I guess it’s better than how my friends call me Gilbert.”
Moira had heard Jake and Miles tease Gil with his full name on several occasions. She’d always loved the name Gilbert though, ever since she’d read Anne of Green Gables one summer and had fallen in love vicariously through Anne’s character.
“Thank you for coming over, Moira.” Gil offered his hand to shake. “I’m sorry if this caused you any inconvenience.”
“You’re welcome.” Moira stared at Gil’s outstretched hand before slipping her palm against his, wondering at the way her heartbeat quickened. “I, um, really have to go,” she said a second time, pulling her hand away.
“Of course.” Gil nodded. “I’ll stay with Doug until his blood sugar is back to normal and see about getting his ankle looked at by Dr. Reynolds.”
“Sounds good.” Moira hitched a thumb behind her. “I’ll, um, see you later,” she said. Then, with a small wave, she turned and left. She practically sped back to her own house. She ran inside and pulled her headset back on, exhaling when she noted that there were no missed calls on-screen. Then she relaxed into her chair and exhaled.
What had started as a dead day had become dramatic. It was days like this she felt most fulfilled by her job. Some days she helped folks more than others. Some days she pretty much just sat at her desk and read books that she’d purchased from Tess’s store.
Moira grabbed her cell phone and texted Riley.
Moira: I’m back at the dispatch. I’m sorry for bolting on you like that.
Riley: It’s against regulation to go to a scene. What were you thinking?
Moira frowned at the text message. She hadn’t really felt like she’d had a choice in the matter. Doug needed help, and that’s all there was to it. Moira knew Riley was a stickler for rules though. She would never feel compelled to do what Moira had just done.
Moira: I was thinking that someone needed help.
Riley: Yes, but not from you. We’re not trained as medics. If Sheriff Ronnie finds out, you’ll be reprimanded.
Moira took that to mean that Riley didn’t plan on telling the sheriff. At least she hoped that’s what it meant.
Moira: Thanks again for covering while I stepped out.
Moira’s shift ended later that evening without another call. She removed her headset and walked into her kitchen to prepare a dinner for one. After the day she’d had, she didn’t bother cooking. Instead, she would settle for a bowl of Cap’n Crunch cereal. It was quick and easy, and she was starving.
She pulled the box out of the cabinet and then went to retrieve a bowl, startling when someone knocked on her door. Who would be visiting her now? Her mom always went straight home to her father after leaving the bakeshop, and her friends all had boyfriends, fiancés, or husbands to go home to these days.
Moira stared at her front door for a moment, reviewing the list of possible visitors, none of whom seemed likely. When her unknown visitor knocked again, she sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for social hour. She’d prefer a glass of wine and a hot bath. Even so, she walked over and peered through the peephole.
Moira’s heart sputtered and stopped along with all the breath in her body. When she’d shaken Gil’s hand earlier in the day, she’d felt something unexpected. Her heart had fluttered. Skipped. Quickened. He had always had a crush on her, but not vice versa. She’d never felt anything for Gil Ryan—until today.