Page 107 of Puck Block

Claire drops me off at the ER while she goes and finds a parking spot. I don’t even think I shut the passenger door.

The lights are bright, and everyone is staring at me like I’m the one who needs a doctor, and honestly, I probably do.

“Where is he?” I ask the receptionist.

She gives me a dirty look. “Who?”

I sigh with frustration. “The hockey player they wheeled in here a second ago! Where is he?”

“Ma’am, you can’t just–”

I spin and head for the doors. I know exactly where to go, and no one is going to stop me from being there when Ford wakes up.

What if he doesn’t wake up?

My mouth dries even more with a wave of nausea. There’s a pounding in my head that I’m forced to ignore because suddenly there’s a security guard in front of me. “You are way too gorgeous for me to detain you. Can you please just calm down?”

I want to kick him in the balls and scream at him to move. “Are you hitting on me?!”

“What? No!” His cheeks ripen with heat. “It’s just… You’re…”

“Taytum?” I turn and latch onto Dr. McCarthy.

It’s the first time I’ve ever been happy to see him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “What’s going on?” His white coat flies behind him as he moves toward me. I tremble with relief.

“If I say no, will you let me go back?”

His confusion lingers, but he nods slowly. “Yes.”

“I’m not okay.” I look around at the bystanders. “It’s my sugar.”

It isn’t a lie. My sugar is all over the place lately, but at the moment, all I care about is Ford.

“Come on.” He brushes off the security guard and the receptionist who is practically lying on the desk to watch the scene unfold.

When the swinging doors shut behind us, I stop walking. “It’s Ford. He got hurt in the game, and I need to see him.”

He shakes his head, but I cut him off before he can tell me no. “You don’t understand.” I’m talking so fast I’ll be surprised if he can keep up. “He gets panic attacks in hospitals! He wasn’t even conscious when they brought him in, and if he wakes up, hooked to machines, all alone? I have to be there!” I grab onto Dr. McCarthy’s arm, and he stares at it for a second before sighing.

His hand lands on mine, and he pats it. “Just sit still, and I’ll see what I can find out. Go over there.” He flicks his chin to the nurses’ station, and I hurriedly rush over.

I recognize one of the nurses from when I was here last, and she purses her lips. “Well, if it isn’t Miss I-Can-Take-Care-Of-Myself.”

Usually, I’d smile and give her some quippy comeback, but I can’t do anything except focus on my breathing.

Crash.

Both of our heads whip at the commotion.

My ears perk. “I have to go.” I rush toward the sound of Ford's voice.

He’s awake.

“Get some midazolam!” someone shouts.

My hair is stuck to my face, and I’m a mess of fear and anxiety, but when I slide in front of the room Ford has been placed in, I shout his name, “Ford!”

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