You Had Me at Hockey (Bears Hockey #2) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,23
as an inpatient and then more months going back nearly daily for outpatient therapy. I never want to set foot in a hospital again.
My stomach churns, my skin clammy. I curl my hands into fists and stare at the hospital doors.
Chapter 8
Josh
I have to do this. I can’t just abandon Sara in there. I take a few deep breaths. Then I swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead, square my shoulders, and stride into the ER.
They’ve already taken her back, which tells me how serious this is because the ER is full of people waiting. They won’t let me go back there at first, so I find a seat and slump there, holding my phone, staring sightlessly at the floor.
How the hell did this happen? I had the whole evening planned—nice dinner, then a short walk to the wine bar for a glass of wine and some piano music. I was too afraid to plan to take her back to my place, but the idea was definitely there. We were having a good time—at least I was. I think she was too. Now…Christ, she’ll never want to see me again after poisoning her like this.
I scrub my hands over my face and wait. And wait.
Finally, a woman comes and calls my name. My head snaps up and I jump to my feet. “You can come on back,” she says. “She’s doing better.”
“Thank God,” I mutter, hiking after her.
She shows me into a curtained cubicle. Sara’s in a bed, now wearing a hospital gown, hooked up to the IV and another machine. I push aside thoughts of her sheer black lace bra. She doesn’t look much better, but she reaches for my hand again as I get near enough. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah. Of course.” I won’t tell her I nearly puked on the sidewalk outside. My stomach still feels a little iffy.
“Good thing she got here quickly,” the nurse says. “But the adrenaline and steroids are working.”
“The steroids are making me feel weird,” Sara says. “I don’t like it.”
“It’ll pass. That’s normal.” The nurse is calm and reassuring. I admire her, since I’m freaking the fuck out inside.
“I’ll check back in a few minutes,” she says, leaving us alone.
“I can’t believe this,” Sara whispers. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize! This isn’t your fault. I feel responsible.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful. It’s been years since anything happened, I just avoid chickpeas all the time. I guess I got a little careless.”
“I feel like shit about this.”
“It’s okay.” Her fingers squeeze mine. “I’m okay. How do my lips look? I’ve been thinking about getting them done with Juvéderm.”
My lips twitch. She’s obviously feeling a little better. Also, she’s brave as hell. “Sexy,” I tell her.
She makes a noise like a snort.
“You don’t believe me?” I gently brush some hair back off her red face.
“Nope.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Some water?” She gestures at the plastic cup with a straw in it.
I grab it and hold it for her as she drinks.
“Thanks. Can you take a picture of me?”
“What?” I stare.
She gives a tiny grimace and hitches one shoulder. “I might want to post it on Instagram.”
I snap my mouth shut. “Uh, sure.” I pull out my phone and take a picture, then send it to her.
“Thanks.”
I pull up a chair and sit with her until the nurse comes back and checks things.
“The swelling’s going down,” she says cheerfully. “And your blood pressure is back up to normal.”
“They couldn’t even find my blood pressure at first,” Sara tells me.
Christ.
We spend a couple of hours here, and then they’re happy with how she’s doing and send her home. We have to take a taxi, but I find one outside the hospital and help Sara into the back of it.
She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “It feels good to feel better. Does that sound stupid?”
“No. I know what you mean.” I remember how good it felt to not be in pain. I get it.
The taxi ride home is swifter, with lighter traffic at this time of night. I pay the driver and hold Sara’s arm as we walk into her building. She’s barefoot, carrying her shoes because her toes were too swollen to get them on. I’m afraid she’s freezing. She greets the doorman and we take the elevator up to her apartment.
“I need to get warm,” she says. “Can you turn the fireplace on? I’m going to change.”