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I eyed Lucian again. One of the EMTs was checking his eyes with a flashlight and asking him a bunch of questions, but they had to realize he was in no shape to provide answers. He was in pain, he was all but hyperventilating, and he kept screwing his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists, and twisting on the stretcher. He was uncomfortable and unable to lie still.
I suppressed an impatient sigh and texted Cam back with what little I’d picked up.
Thank you, sweetheart. I’ll let you know where to go as soon as I know more. The EMTs are logging his symptoms and blood pressure. I don’t know if they’ll perform an EKG here or if they’ll wait till we get to the ER. He’s nauseated, has blurry vision, and shortness of breath.
That was bad enough—I didn’t pile on the list. I didn’t bring up the chest pain again or mention the evident confusion, the visible anxiety, and the dizziness.
Moments later, we rolled into the ambulance bay of the hospital in Tysons.
Stress and worry spiked as I scanned the doors of the vehicle, and everything was suddenly happening quickly. I sucked in a breath and just pushed myself into action. I grabbed on to a handle, bent down quickly so I could support my weight with a hand on the floor, and I jumped out clumsily but effectively before hospital staff assisted with getting Lucian out.
My heart pounded, and I cursed my own weakness?—
“…needs a cane or a wheelchair,” Lucian slurred. “Fuckin’ get it for him!”
Christ. I ran a hand through my hair and registered the moment of confusion between the doctors and nurses surrounding the stretcher, and I had to swallow my pride and let them know I suffered from partial paralysis in both legs.
Thankfully, they acted swiftly and without questions, and within seconds, I had two crutches so I could keep up. I hurried after Lucian and his team of hospital staff. It wasn’t a long trek, but it felt like a fucking marathon.
In the triage area, they wheeled him in for an EKG, and they closed the blue curtain so I had to wait just outside. A nurse joined me shortly thereafter and asked if I could describe Lucian’s day leading up to the “episode.”
“He’s been in and out of meetings all day,” I replied, trying to peer through the two-inch-wide opening between two curtains. They were stripping Lucian of his shirt and attaching electrodes to his chest. Christ, it hurt to see. Everything fucking hurt. My legs were numbing and prickling uncomfortably, my heart wouldn’t calm down, my arms strained, and…this had nothing on seeing Lucian that way. “I doubt he’s been eating well. He’s lived in denial about his high blood pressure, and he acts like he can schedule his resting time for when it’s convenient.” I took a breath and did my best to organize my thoughts. “We, uh—we had friends over for dinner, and he was dismissive about a headache before they arrived. He’s experienced milder symptoms lately too. Dizziness, numbness and tingling, usually hands and arms, tension headaches, and chest pain.”
The nurse nodded along and asked some follow-ups. My phone vibrated with an incoming call, but I’d have to handle that later.
“Has he monitored his blood pressure regularly? Do you happen to recall if his readings have been higher than normal lately?”
“Uh…” I rested one of the crutches against a wall and rubbed my forehead. “I remember last week, something about…I wanna say 154/97…? That’s after a stressful day at work. But last night, it was higher—162/109, I think. I don’t know his morning readings.”
“Understood—”
“Is he having a heart attack?” I just had to ask.
“The EKG will let us know if anything’s happening right now, and then we’ll wait to see what the blood work reveals,” she responded. “Is he on any medication?”
I cleared my throat. “PrEP and…I don’t know if he’s actually taking them, but he was prescribed 500 milligrams of some sort of medication for high blood pressure a few weeks ago. I’m afraid I don’t remember if he’s supposed to take it once or twice a day—oh, and he took Aspirin while we waited for the ambulance.” That’d been Cam’s work. He’d said he’d read something about that.
Cam should really fucking be here. He was the one who knew every little thing about Lucian’s health.
* * *
I breathed a small breath of relief when I heard back from Santiago. He and his boy were keeping Noa company in the waiting room, and now I just needed to hear back from Cam.
I checked my conversation with him again, hoping to see the “read” sign at the bottom. He’d seen my initial update, when we’d still been in the ambulance, and he’d also seen my second to most recent text. I’d sent it right after Lucian’s EKG had revealed he was, thank fuck, not having a heart attack.
Now, some twenty minutes later, I would’ve thought I’d have received a pinch of relief from Cam too. Or confirmation he’d seen my third update.
I glanced up and down the corridor, almost wishing we could return to the triage area. At least there, I could be the rude fucker flagging down a nurse who crossed my path and demanding answers. We weren’t far; we’d gone through two sets of doors and down one corridor, but it felt like a world away. This part of the ER was quieter, and the doors were closed to each room. Actual rooms, not just bed slots with curtains.
Goddamn, I hated hospitals.
I eyed the three uncomfortable-looking chairs across the corridor and reckoned I was about five minutes away from being forced to sit down. So far, leaning against the wall with my new set of crutches worked, but I was already tired as shit from a long day.
Just perfect—I heard Lucian in my head. You need to rest, you stubborn fool.
You’re one to talk, dick.
Fuck it, I’d send Dean a message instead. He and Cam had arrived together, so fingers crossed they were with Santiago, Gael, and Noa.
