Page 114 of Puck Block

“Someone get me a fucking shirt!” I shout.

Three of my teammates rip the shirts off their backs and hand them to me. I grab one, pull the cotton on over my head, and haul Emory over to the elevator. The door closes, and for the first time since being in this hospital, I’m not panicked because of the past.

I’m panicked because I might lose the love of my life.

“What?” Mary-Ann’s hand covers her mouth in shock.

Dr. McCarthy briefly looks at me standing ramrod straight beside Emory and Taytum’s dad. “She’s going to be okay. We’re pumping her full of fluids, and we’ve got her blood sugar leveled with insulin. She’s woken up a couple of times, but she’s drowsy.” He lowers his voice. “But we need to discuss the reason why she’s back in the MICU.”

Taytum’s dad scrutinizes him. “What do you mean?”

Dr. McCarthy looks at me briefly, and I step forward. “Let me.”

He ushers his hand out. “I’ll be over here to give your family some privacy.”

Family.

I’m less on edge than before with the confirmation that Taytum will be okay, but there’s a weight on my shoulders that doesn’t let up when I stare her parents in the face. Jay is the onewho taught me hockey. He was the one who took Emory and me to practice, and his encouragement still lingers in the back of my head from time to time. Mary-Ann always made sure I had a warm meal at night, a clean uniform, and enough love to make up for my shitty parent situation.

They’re both going to feel so betrayed.

“A few weeks ago, Taytum almost fainted.”

“Again?” her mom asks.

I nod. “That’s when I found out that her blood sugar was completely out of sync. She admitted that she wasn’t using the right dosage because she found out that you guys were having a hard time affording it. She was trying to screw up her levels so that Dr. McCarthy wouldn’t push the insulin pump yet.”

“Oh my god.”

I keep my gaze locked with Jay, even with Mary-Ann muttering under her breath. His neck is gradually becoming redder with anger, but I’m willing to deal with it for Taytum.

He inhales sharply. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“I did. I even threatened it.” I shake my head with frustration. “I thought I had it under control. I even injected her myself with the insulin from time to time. I went to the pharmacy and filled the prescription for her.” My voice begins to shake, and I pinch the bridge of my nose to keep myself grounded.

Mary-Ann starts to cry, and I wince. “You should have told us! How could you not tell us? After everything?”

“Because she trusted me. I wasn’t going to betray her trust.”

“Well, we trusted you!” she interrupts. “You were supposed to be watching out for her. Both of you were!”

Emory remains quiet, and I don’t dare look at him for help. He hates me more than they do at the moment.

“I know. I understand why you’re upset with me.” I shut my eyes for a second to regain my confidence. “But if I have to pick between her trust and yours, I choose hers.”

Both her parents are shocked, and I attempt to stick up for Taytum, because I know they’re probably just as angry at her as they are with me. “I’m sorry, but Taytum was just trying–”

Emory steps forward. “Stop!”

We all turn at his sudden outburst. Emory’s fists flex by his sides, and the veins along his hands stick out further when he bounces his attention in between the three of us. I know what he’s about to say, and it’s only going to add gasoline onto the fire.They’re going to fucking kill me.

“Taytum would probably be dead if it weren’t for him.” Emory moves his attention to his parents. “How can you be angry with someone who has done nothing but be there for Taytum since the very moment he met her?” He laughs sarcastically. “Did you guys know that Ford researched diabetes for twelve hours straight the day after she was diagnosed? Or that he went to the store and bought us both glucose tablets and a blood sugar monitor in case something happened while she was with us and didn’t have hers?”

I’m dumbfounded that no less than an hour ago, he was threatening my life, but now, he’s sticking up for me.

Emory catches my eye, and although I would never consider him to be asoftguy, the look he gives me is close enough. “He’s even attempted to call his father for money so he can pay for her medicine and save our house.”

A zip of unease rips up my spine. It’s not something I want credit for, especially when it has to do with my father.

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