Page 52 of From Rivals to I Do

“Eli,” she replies, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“Eli, huh?”

“Yep,” she replies. “Brain injury. He’s in surgery right now since this Elijah guy needed help first. But this one’s not looking too hot either.”

“What’s the last name?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. I’m very aware there are other people in the world named Eli, but I just want to be sure.

“Garcia,” she says, and my eyes go wide.

“Garcia?” I repeat, my voice cracking.

“Yeah, why?”

“What’s his age?” I ask.

“Looks to be. . . fifty-four,” she says, and suddenly I feel like the whole world around me has ceased to exist. My vision gets blurry, and my hearing is muffled.I can tell that Jennifer is talking to me, I can even feel her hand on my shoulder as she tries to shake me out of my daze. “What’s the address?” I ask.

“Pardon?”

“Does it list the patient’s address?” I ask frantically.

“No, Darla, you know that’s not on here,” Jennifer says as I snap back to reality.

“Next of kin? Anything?”

Jennifer looks at me like I’m a complete lunatic, or maybe it’s just a look of worry. Either way, I need to know who, if anyone, is on that list.

“Four boys,” she says. “Jeffrey, Robert, Noah, and Zack.”

My blood runs cold, and everything left in my stomach comes up as I rush to the garbage can and heave into it. “This cannot be happening!” I cry, my own voice echoing in my ears as Jennifer rubs my back.

“Darla, are you alright?”

“I need to go down there,” I say as I wipe the tears from my eyes, so thick and stinging so bad I can hardly see. “I need to go see them.”

“Oh my gosh, do you know them?” Jennifer asks as I manage to stand up.

“Eli’s my boyfriend,” I told her.

“Oh my. . . Go, Darla!” Jennifer says as she waves for me to go.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I run as fast as my legs will carry me to the elevator, pressing the button rapidly until it finally opens. It feels like ages before the door finally closes, and I head on down to the ground floor, streaking through the halls and trying to find the operating rooms.

“Hey, hey, woah,” a voice says as I skid to a halt, and in front of me is the last person I want to see right now or ever again. Joseph.

He’s coming out of the cafeteria, and on a quick glance, I notice there’s blood on his jeans.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“A friend got hurt, he’s in the ER,” Joseph sighs. “Bar fight.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your friend, but I need you to move out of my way,” I say, trying to stay calm.

“You can’t stop to chat?” Joseph asks. “I’m real worried about him.”

“I ain’t got time for you and your dumb drinking buddies,” I say as I try to push past but he won’t let me.

“Slow down, what is going on?” Joseph asks.

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