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“Brinley… hey, Brin?”
I’m tapping my fingers gently against her cheek, but she doesn’t move. She’s out cold. She’s breathing, but only just. She hasn’t moved from where I caught her before lowering her down onto the couch, and now she’s slumped over to one side with her head resting on a cushion.
“Brinley, can you hear me?”
I shake her shoulders gently and say her name again. But I get nothing in response. She’s out like a light, so I run my fingers through her hair, pushing a few silky strands back from her clammy forehead.
“Hey, wake up,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her. My guess is she’s fainted and I don’t want to frighten her when she comes around by hovering too closely.
Her head moves ever so slightly.
Thank god for that.
“Brinley?”
Her feet twitch, and then her eyes slowly flutter open. “Wh-what happened?” she asks, her words slurred with confusion. She looks up into my eyes and at first they seem unfocused and distant, but after a few seconds, she seems to recognize me and tries to sit up.
“Stay down.”
“Reed?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What happened?”
“I think you fainted. Or passed out. I’m not sure if that’s the same thing?”
She wobbles and sways as she tries to sit up again, and this time I let her sit up slowly, grabbing on to my arm for support.
“I don’t feel great,” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes with her slender fingers.
“You don’t look great either. You’re clammy and hot. I think you might have a fever.”
I eye her carefully for a few moments. But when she looks like she’s about to throw up, or pass out again, whichever comes first, I pull her into my arms, curling my arms up under her bent knees, and stand to my feet, taking her with me.
“We’re going to the hospital,” I say. “I’d call an ambulance, but there’s a shitload of traffic tonight.”
Brinley’s entire body is limp now, and I get the feeling the only thing holding her up are my biceps. She clings to me with tight fingers, and under other circumstances, I might like the way her fingers feel pressed so firmly into my muscles. But she’s sick. And I need to get her some help. Her head flops helplessly against my chest, and my heart breaks for her.
“I can’t go to the hospital.” Brinley’s voice is scratchy and hoarse. “I don’t have insurance.”
“Too bad.”
“No, please, I can’t afford –”
“You’re going to the hospital, Brinley. And I’m taking you.” The keys to my Jeep are in my back pocket, but I look all around for Brinley’s apartment keys. I don’t see them anywhere. “I don’t give a fuck how much it costs. I’ll pay for it myself, so just shut up and hold on to me, and let’s just try and get you out the front door before I lose you again. Where do you keep your keys?”
Reluctant acceptance washes over her glazed eyes. “Over there.”
With a little readjusting, I lean to one side and swipe a set of keys off the hall table. And then we’re heading out the door and down the front stairs toward the parking lot, and the entire time I’m carrying her in my arms, the soft sighs that slip through her lips tear at some place deep inside my chest.
I probably shouldn’t get involved, but what else can I do? She’s not well, and I can’t just leave her alone to look after herself. She obviously hasn’t been doing a very good job of that lately. I don’t think she has anyone here for her in the city. She hasn’t mentioned any friends or family in New York. I might be the only person she has on her side right now?
“Hold on to me, Tink.”
To my enormous surprise, she doesn’t complain for once. She just leans her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes again as if she’s fucking exhausted and she’s finally got someplace safe and warm to rest.
Positioning her carefully on the passenger seat, I strap her in and then jog around the front of the Jeep to the driver’s side, wondering the entire time why I’m doing any of this.
