Page 165 of Just This Once

“Shit,” I hissed, diving to catch her when she started to pitch forward. The moment I wrapped my arms around her, I knew she had a fever. It felt as if I were hugging a damn oven.

“That’s it,” I announced. “We’re going home.”

Hope shook her head. “No,” she mumbled. “Wanna go to Westport.”

Fear coated my skin. “Hope,” I said slowly. “Youarein Westport.”

“Shut up, Mom. You don’t know…best…me.”

Disoriented and talking nonsense, she pushed at my arm to shove me away, but she had absolutely no power behind it.

“Hope?” I repeated. “Who do you think I am?”

“Not ready,” she slurred before bending over my arm and vomiting all over the floor.

When I saw blood in the bile, I knew she’d been lying to me about the severity of her condition, and I swear my entire life flashed before my eyes.

38

PARKER

Hope lost consciousness halfway to the hospital. I nudged her arm to wake her up, but the jostling only made her head lull limply until her body slumped to the side and she banged her face against the passenger side window.

The loud thwack didn’t even cause her to stir, and fear lodged itself solidly in my gut.

“Hope?” I growled. “Hey. Don’t you dare?—”

I tried to check her pulse as I drove with one hand, but I couldn’t extend far enough across the cab of my truck to reach either her neck or one of her wrists. “Dammit.”

No longer sure if she was dead or alive, the last few miles of my trip were the most terrifying minutes of my life, and I swear my own heart stopped beating in my chest.

When I made it to the emergency room entrance, I slammed on the brakes and threw the truck into park before lurching over the console to check on her.

When I felt the flutter of what I thought was a pulse, I heaved out a sob and scrambled from the vehicle to vault around to her side and open her door. She slid out toward the pavement, and I had to catch her in my arms, cursing the whole time as I tried to resituate her enough to carry her as I walked.

The front doors slid open for us as we approached, and I entered, shouting, “I need help!”

The receptionist looked up and immediately rose to her feet when she saw my expression.

“She won’t wake up,” I choked out.

“Triage,” she called into the back. “We have a possible code blue.”

She disappeared from view for a second before a pair of double doors opened to the side, where the nurse reappeared with a gurney, waving me forward.

Two guys wearing scrubs hurried out behind her just as I was settling Hope on the bed.

“How long has she been unresponsive?” I was asked as they crowded in to check her pulse and shine a light at her pupils.

“Uh.” I backed away to give them room to work. Raking a hand through my hair, I stuttered, “Ten, uh, f-fifteen minutes maybe. But she was talking nonsense before that. She couldn’t move right. Her face turned bright red, and her fever spiked. Then she started puking blood.”

Too upset to explain more, I covered my mouth with both hands when one of the guys started chest compressions.

“Any substance abuse?” the other man asked. “Drugs? Alcohol?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “What? No. No.” I shook my head, unable to take my eyes off her still face as they attempted to resuscitate her. Finally, I had the presence of mind to add, “Liver failure. She has liver failure. Her doctor’s name is Kepler.”

“Alright, let’s get her into the back,” the other guy ordered, and the one who’d been asking the questions glanced at me, saying, “Stay here. We’ll get an update back to you shortly.”

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