Page 176 of Offside Devil

I shove my phone in my pocket as another round of horrible coughing echoes down the hall from Aiden’s room.

Then I turn and run.

Evan cradles Aiden as we jog towards the doors of the emergency room.

I keep trying to tell myself that I’m overreacting. I’ve never spent much time with kids, but they’re germy creatures. Rachelle and Jemma are always complaining about their little ones coming down with some virus or cold. What do you expect when children sneeze directly into each other’s eyeballs without a hint of shame or self-control?

“Which way?” Evan squeaks to a stop on the tile, panning back and forth before I point out the check-in desk along the side wall.

I run ahead of him, already rifling through the folder of Aiden’s important information: Social Security, insurance, birth certificate, blood type. I had no idea what we’d need, so I brought everything.

I’m panting when I stop in front of the desk. “He’s coughing,” I blurt, hitching a thumb towards Evan and Aiden. “The boy; not the man. He’s coughing really badly and has a high fever. He can’t seem to stay awake. Oh, and his lips are blue.” I count off symptoms on my fingers as sweat slides down my back. “I think that’s everything.”

The woman slides a clipboard to me. “Fill this out and we’ll get a room ready for him.”

I blink at the clipboard and then back to the woman behind the desk. She can’t be older than I am—that is to say, very young—so maybe she doesn’t understand what’s happening here. Maybe she doesn’t realize what it means when a four-year-old’s lips turn blue.

“His lips are blue,” I repeat in case it didn’t stick the first time. “He’s four and he can’t breathe and his lips are blue.”

As if to illustrate my point, Aiden takes a sudden, wheezing inhale in and then erupts in violent coughing.

The woman offers a sympathetic frown. “I hear you, but we don’t have a room ready. As soon as it’s ready, we’ll?—”

“You’ll put the boy in a private suite,” Evan rumbles. I’m so used to seeing him happy and smiling that I’ve almost forgotten how big and scary he is. He steps up to the window and the nurse shrinks back. “His father, Zane Whitaker, would like his son to be seen immediately.”

The woman’s eyes widen and she spins out of her chair. “Give me a second.”

“That’s not going to work,” I mutter. “She’s probably going to get security.”

I’m about to look up where the next closest hospital is, but Evan tips his head towards the wall…

Where a poster of the Phoenix Angels’ starting lineup is tacked to a bulletin board with heart-shaped pins. “I think she’s going to get us that room.”

70

ZANE

“You looked good out there.” Jace wipes his face with a towel. “Not bad for a guy who’s been pulling two-a-days all week.”

I shrug. “Gotta find some way to burn off all the energy you won’t let me spend killing Carson.”

Or the energy I can no longer spend with Mira.

Some part of me meant it when I told her she should leave. If she isn't going to be honest with me, it would be easier if she left. Maybe then I wouldn't lie in bed, staring at my ceiling, convincing myself not to walk down the hall to her.

“Whatever you've gotta do to keep your head clear and the starting lineup breathing.”

Hanna is waiting around the next corner. She pushes off the wall when she sees us.

“What's going on?” I ask.

She breaks into a bright smile. “Nothing! I just caught a bit of practice. You all looked great in there. You’re hitting your stride.”

“We're trying,” Jace says. “Can't look much worse than we did last weekend.”

I grunt out a thanks. “So, you don't have a message or anything for me?”

Hanna’s face falls. “No, sorry. I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi. So, hi!” She chuckles. “Anyway, see you around.”

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