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There was more work to be done.
“You smoke recreational pot in your office. Rules mean nothing to you,” Kenna ventured.
“Could be worse. Sigmund Freud had a nasty coke addiction.”
She laughed through her broken breaths and it sent a jolt of electricity through his spine.
Something akin to butterflies spasmed in his sternum—or maybe it was the cursed heart palpitations. The deceleration of Dayton’s breathing begged him to stop. He continued to sprint but fell behind her on the muddied path.
“What’s the matter, Rocky? I thought you were in it for the long haul,” Kenna teased over her shoulder.
Her look of soft flirtation broke him and he was incapable of a witty retort, incapable of producing any sound. A wildfire blazed his insides as the pain in his chest spread. One that was all too familiar.
This couldn't be happening. Not now.
Dizziness consumed him, blurring his vision, as his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground.
Aside from the bit where he had called her adorable, their light-hearted conversation had put Kenna at ease. Who would’ve known she was capable of feeling relaxed in the presence of one Dayton Merino.
He had fallen behind her on the trail but she continued to push ahead, reasoning that he would catch up. When he didn’t respond to her Rocky remark, that unease crept back as if it had never abandoned her.
Her movement slowed until she came to a stop and she turned around to find Dr. Merino crumpled in the dirt.
Did he really think she’d fall for that?
Faking an injury to get a rise out of her seemed awfully juvenile. Then again, she never thought she’d hear him cracking jokes about illegal substances. Grinning and shaking her head, she sprinted to examine his static body.
“Very funny. C’mon, get up.” Kenna folded her arms, eyeing the motionless man.
No response.
She knelt beside him, hesitantly reaching out to grab his shoulder. The action shifted him onto his back. His lids were closed, black lashes glued to his cheeks like a million spider legs. His jaw had slackened, mouth slightly agape. Panic elevated in Kenna.
It didn’t seem like he was faking it.
Lightly, she shook him. “Dr. Merino? Can you hear me? Dr. Merino?” She yelled, “Dayton!”
That would’ve gotten his attention had he been messing around.
His medical bracelet was absent from his right wrist.
Should something happen to me, it contains all of the relevant information.Why did he own the life-saving jewelry if he didn’t bother wearing it at all times?
Kenna placed her pointer and middle finger on his left wrist, measuring his pulse. The beating was sluggish, like it would stop without a moment’s notice. “Shit.”
He needed help. Now.
Her gaze darted around the woods. Not a soul in sight.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Help! If anybody can hear me, please help! There’s an emergency! Please help us!”
By the time Kenna’s lungs burned from the incessant shouting, fellow runners finally materialized at the scene. More and more people emerged in the clearing. One man removed his backpack and placed it under Dr. Merino’s head, mumbling something about elevation. The frantic chain of events unfolded faster than she was able to comprehend.
An elderly runner donned in shorts that were much too short waved his phone in the air. “I called an ambulance. They’re on the way but we’ve got to get him to the main road.”
“We’ll have to carry him,” the man with the backpack conjectured.
Her head twirled like a spinning top. The dizzying curtain of reality clouded the questions filtering through her mind. Kenna clung to the small group of people trekking through the woods, never straying from the trio of men carrying Dr. Merino’s limp body. Vomit simmered at the base of her throat. Her uncertainty toward his character faded from her subconscious in the midst of the chaos.
