AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He reached over me, and the stretch and pull of his honed muscles actually made me gasp a little. He misinterpreted it. “It’s okay, I’m just helping you with your seatbelt.” He pulled it down around me and clicked it into place.
I resisted the urge to run my fingers over the smooth contours of those arms, dusted lightly with blond hair and ending with long, capable fingers I imagined were adept at driving women crazy.
Dr. Cade put the car into first, and using the heel of his palm, smoothly turned the wheel to carry us out of the parking lot. I watched with some awe as he effortlessly shifted the manual car, making those perfect muscles in his forearms contract. He glanced down at me. “When did your symptoms start?” I pointed to my forehead.
“The day you brought Calla in?” I nodded. “What has your temperature been?”
I shrugged.
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, have you had a fever the whole time, do you think?”
I nodded. I tried my voice, and managed to get out, “Cold medicine.”
“Alright, so you took cold medicine. What kind? Dextromethorphan? Phenylephrine?” I looked at him like he’d spoken Klingon. He sighed. “Blue liquid? Orange liquid? Little white pills?”
“Yes,” I rasped.
“All three? Not at the same time, though,” he said with a hint of consternation. I shrugged. “God help me,” he muttered. “When? Today?”
“Orange today,” I gargled.
“Your throat hurts, I assume. How about your stomach? Nausea? Vomiting? Diarrhea?”
I grimaced, shaking my head.
He seemed to be cataloging my answers, and I could just imagine his brain skimming imaginary fingers over files to find the one that fit my symptoms. “Blood in your urine?”
I shook my head again.
“Are you urinating normally? Are you getting liquids down?”
The last liquid I had tried had been a sip of orange juice Saturday morning. I made a so-so motion. He caught my hand, and with a quick glance away from the red light he’d stopped at, he looked at my fingers. His hands were cool and dry, and I was starting to think that maybe getting sick wasn’t so bad.
“You’re dehydrated, so no.” He placed my hand gently on my lap, but there was disapproval all over the glance he flicked to me. “You can’t just ignore bacterial infections and hope they go away.”
I pressed my lips together. Easy for him to say. He probably had a 401(k) and stock market… stuff. I didn’t even know what wealthy people did with their money, but I knew most of them had stocks. And health insurance.
We arrived at the health clinic, a small, brick building with practical architecture and darkened glass windows. He swerved around to the back, and after killing the engine, he came around to help me out of the car. Supporting me on one side, he pulled a ring of keys from his black jogger pants, and we went up the short flight of concrete steps before he unlocked the white door and let me in.
Inside the clinic, it was cold and dark, and we had entered the area of the building where there were offices lining the short hallway. He went into the first office on the right, flicked on the light, and motioned for me to go inside. It was his office, I realized. On the wall, his degrees hung in mahogany frames, their little foil seals glimmering in the bright, fluorescent lighting. They all listed his name as “Lachlan H. Cade.”
He unceremoniously dumped his coat on the dark-stained desk piled high with neatly stacked files and packets of paper. There was a swivel chair behind his desk, and then two practical, padded chairs along the wall of the doorway. An enormous filing cabinet took up the whole right wall.
“Sit,” Lachlan said. His tone was surprisingly hard and a bit commanding. Like he wasn’t used to being disobeyed, and at odds with the charming persona he had shown to my daughter.
I sat in one of the padded chairs, resting my hands on the hard, time-worn wooden arms with trepidation. I was alone with a total stranger, and he had more or less just barked at me. I considered the part of me that was screaming for escape.
The other part of me wanted him to order me around a little more.
He left me in the office, and I slumped back, letting my head loll against the wall. I closed my eyes, and with sudden, shocking force, darkness closed around me like a heavy door slamming shut. I was so tired. Maybe taking a nap wouldn’t be the worst idea.
Cool hands touched my neck, pressing against the pulse that still hammered fast. “Laurel,” Dr. Cade said. “Open your eyes.”
I tried, but they were so heavy. “M’okay,” I mumbled.
I heard the velcro of a pressure cuff, and then it was around my arm. The rapid clenching of the bulb sounded, then tightening until I thought for sure I was going to lose my left arm, and then the hiss of its release sounded through the quiet room. The cold surface of a stethoscope bell pressed against the inside curve of my elbow.
Lachlan tore off the pressure cuff, and I felt something hard and cold pass over my forehead. A beep, and then he muttered, “Shit.” Then his arms were around me, under my legs and behind my back as he lifted me into his arms. “Laurel, open your eyes.”
