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“Wait. Little Misfit, what’s wrong with having an MRI?” Ian crouched next to the wheelchair.
She bit her lip, looking over at Doctor Evans, then the orderly.
“I’m taking her into the room. You two stay out here,” Ian ordered.
“Excuse me.” Doctor Evans puffed up. “This is my hospital.”
“Good for you. Stay put.” Ian wheeled her into the room with the huge MRI scanner. She gulped nervously.
Thankfully, there was no one in the room. “I don’t want to go in there, Ian.”
Ian looked over at the machine. Understanding filled his face. “Jack said you got scared in the lift. Does that have something to do with not wanting an MRI?”
She nodded. “It moves and it’s noisy and you have to stay still. I’ve done it before. You go into the tunnel and it’s . . . it’s scary. I know I’m being a big wimp?—”
Ian placed his hand over her mouth. “Stop that. If you don’t want to do it, then you don’t do it.” He moved his hand when she touched it with hers.
“Really?” she asked, relief making her light-headed.
“Of course, Little girl. No one will make you do anything you don’t wish to do, and if they try, then you tell me. I’ll take care of them.”
She wished she could have Ian with her all the time.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Get dressed and go home.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Ian grabbed the handles of her wheelchair and turned her toward the door.
But Doctor Evans walked in before they could leave. He was tapping on his phone and not looking at them. “Right, the technician is coming soon to set everything up. She’ll help you get ready.”
“I’m not having the MRI.”
“Yes, you are,” Doctor Evans said, looking up and putting his phone away.
“Could I go feet first?” she asked. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
“No. You’ll be going head first. This is necessary to ensure that no substantial damage has been done to your hip.”
“No. Ian, I don’t want it.” Panic started to fill her again. She tugged at her hair, then realised the doctor was watching her closely. “Ian, I want to go home.”
Ian frowned but nodded, putting his phone away. “All right, Little Misfit.”
“This is against medical advice, you realize,” Doctor Evans said pompously.
“I don’t need the MRI. Ian.”
“Let’s go.” Ian pushed her out the door and back down to the area where she’d gotten changed. She couldn’t wait to get back into her clothes.
But before they made it there, she saw Jameson walking toward them.
“You texted him, didn’t you?” She glared over her shoulder at Ian.
“I just need to know we’re making the right choice. This is your health, Little girl.”
“I knew I should have brought Jack,” she muttered.
“Jack would have done the same.”
