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“What happened?”
“She’s had an episode of hypotension or low blood pressure,” Dr. Fenton said. “We’ve run some tests and have ruled out any adrenal or heart valve issues. We’re going to recommend a change in diet and fludrocortisone to boost blood volume. Overall, she’s in good health, and I’m optimistic she won’t need further treatment. But we’ll want her to see someone in a few weeks and regularly after that just to be sure.”
I nodded, taking in every word, clutching tightly to optimistic and good health. “Whatever she needs. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”
The doctor smiled. “Bibi speaks highly of you, Shiloh. She said you take excellent care of her.”
Not good enough. Tears threatened again but I willed them back. “Can I see her?”
“She’s stable now and sleeping. Better to let her rest and come back in the morning.”
“But she’s alone…”
“And sleeping,” Dr. Fenton said gently. “Which is what she needs.”
I nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
“How are you getting home?” Ronan asked.
“I drove. I followed the ambulance. They wouldn’t let me ride with her. God, that was the worst drive of my life. Not knowing…”
I shivered and his arm around me tightened and then let go.
We walked to the visitor parking. I fumbled my keys out of my bag with shaking fingers, and they dropped to the concrete. When I bent to get them, Ronan was there. His large hand closed over mine.
“I got it.”
I managed a smirk. “You think you can handle her?”
He didn’t tease or poke fun. “I got it,” he said again.
Everything about him was steady and solid. He walked me to the passenger side and opened my door, then went around and got behind the wheel. I sank into my seat, his competence and quiet capability putting me at ease. There’s something inherently masculine about a man behind the wheel that even in my exhausted, wrung-out state I appreciated. Ronan handled the Buick as if he’d driven it a hundred times, expertly maneuvering the huge car out of the parking lot.
At my house, he pulled into the garage and was at my side before I could even step out of the car. I wondered if I were about to throw every feminist sensibility out the window and let him carry me inside, caveman-style.
Ronan led me into the house and stopped in the kitchen, unsure. “You
want to rest on the couch or…?”
“In my room. I’m about to pass out. Being terrified is fucking exhausting.”
He nodded. Now that the immediate danger was over, I was acutely aware of how alone we were. Our kiss came back to me, a kiss unlike any I’d ever had before. One I could feel somewhere deep inside me.
But he’d broken it off suddenly and left me alone in the car, cutting me loose.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure,” I lied.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Goodnight.”
He started to go, and the fear swept back in. A night alone stretched in front of me.
“Wait.”
He turned.
