Page 115 of Puck Block

Jay and Mary-Ann whip their attention to me. “What?”

“Don’t look at me like I’m a hero,” I add. “Not until Emory tells you the rest.”

“The rest?”

Emory’s hand falls to my shoulder, and I stagger with confusion.“He loves her. He loves her so much that he’s willing to contact the one man he hates more than anything just so he can take care of her.” He pauses. “And us.”

My throat is tight.

Emory sighs. “She loves him too. When she’s in trouble or scared, she turns right to him. And he’salwaysthere. Of course he isn’t going to betray her trust. Why would we want him to?”

They remain quiet, and we all just stand and stare at each other until Dr. McCarthy interjects. “Maybe now would be a good time for you to go get that CT.”

“Oh my god, your concussion!” Mary-Ann covers her mouth with her hands again.

“I’m fine,” I reiterate to the doctor. “I’m not leaving until I see her.”

“Well, then go see her, because you need to get your CT. I’ve seen you sway three times while standing here.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Taytum is going to be okay. DKA is serious, but we’ve caught it in time. We know how to treat it, and you sped up the process by telling me about her missing doses.”

“She never should have missed them in the first place,” I say with guilt.

Jay steps forward and nudges me toward the door. “Go see my daughter, Ford. Emory is right. Your name has always been first out of her mouth when she needs someone, so I’m betting she wants to see you.”

I’d be a fool to question him.

So, I walk off with Dr. McCarthy to lay eyes on my girl.

[ 53 ]

TAYTUM

I didn’t seethis coming, and I feel so ignorant.

Emory was right. It’s obvious that I can’t take care of myself.

Even after listening to Ford and coming to the realization that messing with a few of my insulin doses wasn’t safe, I still missed the signs that I was in a diabetic crisis. I should have known better. I should have made an appointment with Dr. McCarthy instead of waiting until the one at the end of the month.

My eyes open as soon as I hear the door. I blink through my drowsiness but wake right up when I see Ford and his crooked smile heading toward me.

“Are you okay? How is your head?” I ask, sitting up.

He chuckles with a shake of his head. His dusty-blond hair is messy, and the color on his face is lacking–yet he still looks handsome. “Are you really asking me if I’m okay right now?”

I pause. “Well, are you?”

“I’m fine.” He intertwines our fingers, locking them together. “Considering.”

My mouth quirks. “I’m glad to see Emory didn’t kill you.”

He laughs tightly. “For a second there, I thought your parents were going to kill me too. You’ll be surprised to know that Emory was the one who changed their minds.”

My forehead creases, but his hand tightens on mine before he says, “Don’t do that to me ever again.”

My breath is shallow, as he tugs on our joined hands and places them over his heart. “Do you feel this?”

The muscle in his chest thumps hard and speeds with velocity. I nod.

“It’s yours.”

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