Page 497 of End Game

Every one of us turns.

I step back into the room.

Cami looks a little better.

Not good, but better.

The fluids have put some color back into her face. Her breathing is still too deep, but not quite as violent.

The insulin is running now.

A pump on the pole.

Another bag of fluids.

Numbers I understand.

Treatment I trust.

None of it makes me want to let go of her hand.

“We'll take her up and get her settled,” the nurse says.

“I'll come.”

She shakes her head gently. “You can't come during transfer. Let us get her up there and hand off. The unit will call down once she's settled and tell you what they're allowing for visitors.”

Of course.

I know this, and, more importantly, I know why.

Elevators.

Lines.

Pumps.

Handoff.

Too many bodies create problems.

Knowing why doesn't make it easier.

I look at Cami.

Her eyes open when I squeeze her hand. “They're taking you upstairs.”

She looks confused for a second. “ICU?”

“Yeah.”

Her forehead tightens. “That's dramatic.”

A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it. “Apparently you like attention.”

Her mouth barely moves. “It’s Dex's fault.”

From the hallway, Dex makes a wounded noise.