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I’m about to say fuck the coffee and have her one more time when she suddenly pushes me back, her eyes wide, and hurries from the bed. She wraps her robe around herself and runs through the apartment.
“What’s going on?” I demand, but she doesn’t stop until she reaches the front door.
She pulls it open and then lets out a strangled gasp.
“Jack?”
I shake myself out of the vision. “What?”
“Your phone’s ringing.” Daphne scowls at me. “What did you see?”
I shake my head again and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi there, Jackson. I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to interrupt anything important, but I wanted to talk to you for a minute about Oliver.”
I frown at Miss Annabelle’s statement. “You’re never interrupting. What’s wrong with Oliver?”
Daphne steps closer so she can hear the other end of the conversation.
“Well, he just doesn’t look good, Jack. I asked him how he’s feeling, and I can tell that it isn’t great, but he’s just too darn stubborn to go to the doctor. I was hoping you’d have a little time today to come and talk some sense into him.”
“I’m on my way,” I promise as Daphne immediately flips the Open sign to Closed. “We’ll be there in just a little while. What’s he doing now?”
“He’s napping.” I can hear tears in her voice. “I’m really worried about him.”
“We’ll get to the bottom of this. Daphne and I are on our way.”
I end the call and send Daphne a grim look. “I’m sorry about this.”
“Why on Earth are you sorry?” she asks and fetches her purse. “Oliver is your family. Let’s go take care of it.”
We rush out to my car, and I drive faster than I likely should through New Orleans, but the urgency to get to Oliver is a driving force in my gut.
Daphne reaches over and takes my hand in hers.
“He’s going to be fine,” she says with bright confidence. “We’ll talk him into going to the doctor and get it all figured out.”
I nod, turn into Oliver’s driveway, and barely get the car parked and shut off before I’m rushing to the door of the house.
“Thank you for coming,” Miss Annabelle says as she opens the door. “He’s still asleep. He’s been sleeping most of the morning.”
“In the bedroom?” I ask.
“That’s right. Go on in. It’s okay.”
I hurry to the back of the house and into the bedroom. Oliver is in bed, lying on his back. His breathing is shallow, and for a man with such dark skin, he’s damn pale.
I sit on the edge of the bed and take his hand in mine. “Hey, Ollie. I need you to wake up for me.”
His eyes flutter open, then close again as if he just can’t fight against the sleep.
“Ollie, we need to get you to a doctor.”
“I’m fine,” he whispers through chapped lips.
“I don’t think you are. We’re all worried about you, and it’ll make us feel a lot better if you get checked out. Miss Annabelle is worried sick. You don’t want to make her fuss, do you?”
“Always fusses,” he whispers. “Just tired.”
I look up at Daphne, who hovers nearby. “Call an ambulance. It’ll be safer.”
“On it.”
She pulls her phone out of her bag and calls emergency services as I watch Oliver slip back into a deep sleep.
“He’s been like this all day,” Miss Annabelle says as she takes his other hand and kisses his knuckles. “I couldn’t get him to eat or drink anything at all.”
“They’re on their way. Five minutes,” Daphne says. “I’m going to wait for them outside.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“I’ll go with you,” Miss Annabelle says and hurries out of the room with Daphne.
“Too much fussin’,” Oliver says, catching my attention. “Can’t a man just sleep?”
“Not like this,” I reply. “This isn’t normal for you. I need to get you all checked out to make sure it’s nothing serious. I’ve already lost two parents. I refuse to lose you, too.”
A frown creases the area between his eyebrows, and then he just sighs.
“Fair enough, then.”
It’s not long before the ladies escort the EMTs into the room, and they immediately start asking questions.
How long has he been like this?
Is he on any medications?
Is he allergic to anything?
They load him onto a stretcher and take him out to the waiting ambulance. Miss Annabelle rides with them, and Daph and I follow closely behind.
“I’ve never seen him like that,” I say and wipe my hand over my mouth in agitation. “Jesus, Daph, he looked half-dead.”
“He looks exhausted,” she corrects me. “Maybe it was something he ate or a medication he took too much of. It could literally be anything, Jack. Let’s not freak out until we speak to the doctor.”
I just nod and pull into the emergency room parking lot. We hurry inside, but the nurses tell us that we can’t go back to his room until they get him settled.
