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“Is there any family history we should know about?” Dr. O’Quinn demanded, a quizzical expression furrowing his brow.
“Uh, yes! His brother has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy,” I said quickly, thinking back on the information I’d read. Luckily, I’d been so worried that I’d stared at the illness long enough to memorize the condition’s name.
A nurse grabbed my arm and tugged me, and I fought against him. “Sir, you need to wait outside.”
“Please, he’s my partner,” I begged, something I never thought I would ever see myself doing again. All this—the hospital, the ER, the desperation, the fear—brought back memories I didn’t want to revisit. I hated it with a passion, and I couldn’t leave Wade’s side, not like I’d left Dad’s. I’d never seen him alive again.
“I’m sorry, but you need to wait outside,” he said firmly.
I let him drag me out, hoping this wouldn’t be the last time I saw Wade.
17
WADE LEE
The doctor had been gonefor about an hour. My right arm still stung from where the blood had been drawn from the crook of my elbow, and my left arm felt oddly heavy with the IV tube running from it to the bag near my bed. I tried to keep my fingers away from the EKG leads stuck on my chest. The machine was set to go off at regular intervals and track what my heart was up to, and I supposed it was a good sign that no one was running in here to pump more meds into me.
A nurse in pink scrubs came in, and it was a woman with a stern expression. I was paying enough attention to notice her name—Matilda Cline. It seemed to go with her attitude somehow.
“How are you feeling?” She stared at me with sympathetic eyes and her brown ponytail swayed as she moved around the room. “How’s the pain?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Whatever you gave me worked. My chest isn’t hurting anymore.” I went to rub a hand across my torso, but she snagged it, then finally gave me a tiny smile.
“Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
The machine chose that moment to do its thing, and Nurse Cline pulled out a device that was a little larger than a phone and frowned at it.
“How am I doing?” I asked.
She glanced up at me. “Not bad. The doctor wants you to get imaging done, so we can take a look at your heart, though, and there’s a backup for that. Chances are you’ll be staying here overnight. Why weren’t you checked for hypertrophic cardiomyopathy in the past? It says here your brother has it?” Her dark eyebrows crept upward, like a teacher waiting for me to give a correct answer in class.
I shrugged. “I haven’t had any symptoms, so the doc I see once a year for my physical said I was probably fine.”
She scowled, as if she had a few things she wanted to say to Dr. Haley.
“Can Albion Guthrie come back here, then?” I gestured at the chair shoved against the wall in the tiny room. “I don’t think he will leave.” My phone was on a tray table nearby, but I hadn’t bothered trying to grab it yet. I was supposed to be lying still and not stressing while the machines were measuring whatever it was they were looking at for my heart.
She studied me, then her device, and hummed. “I’ll talk to Dr. O’Quinn. If he says yes, then fine. Everything okay with your partner, hon?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She frowned at my hands.
I sighed. “It’s completely consensual. We enjoy it.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, this time staring directly into my eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, all right, then.” With that she gave me another tiny smile, as if the hospital charged for full ones, before hustling out of the room. At least she’d warmed up.
I closed my eyes and drifted for a while. Fear ate at me. They suspected I had the condition that had nearly killed my brother out of nowhere one day when he was at work and had required immediate emergency surgery to save his life. He had lifelong damage and would always need medication. He would probably only survive into his sixties, if that, and he knew it. He wasn’t living very well right now. I rubbed my hand along the side of my face.
Was I living a good life? If I only got sixty years, what could I say I’d done with myself?
I laughed, but it sounded melancholy in the small, empty room. I hadn’t needed to be rushed into surgery, and while the hospital staff was treating this seriously, everyone I’d spoken to had seemed cautiously optimistic.
