Page 108 of Cross Check Hearts

A wave of relief washes over me as I leave his office. Once I’m safely out in the hall, I pull my phone from my purse so that I can text Declan and let him know what happened, like I promised I would when I found out about the meeting. My heart skips when I see he’s already sent a few texts while I was in with Mr. Brooks.

DECLAN: Let me know how it goes. If the dean gives you a hard time, I’ll happily have a word with him. He should know it wasn’t your fault.

DECLAN: Sawyer already gave me the lecture, just like I predicted.

DECLAN: Still worth it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

A smile spreads across my face, warmth blooming in my chest at his words. I tap to write a reply, but as my fingers start to move across the keyboard, my vision suddenly flickers. This has been happening off and on ever since that really bad migraine I had, and I’ve been getting headaches more often too.

I blink rapidly, trying to brush it off as my eyes adjusting, but as little halos start to form in the corners of my vision, an uneasy feeling prickles against the back of my neck.

It’s the absolute last thing I want to deal with after all of this drama with Aaron, but I know I need to get checked out. I’ve been hoping this would just fix itself if I ignored it, but whatever is going on has been bothering me for days now, and it’s clearly not resolving on its own. Which means I need to go to the doctor.

Dammit.

A shiver of dread races through me at the thought.

There’s nothing I hate more than going to the doctor’s office, even for something routine. My entire family has enough medical trauma to write a book about after everything we went through with Casey, and I’ve avoided hospitals at pretty much all costs ever since we lost him. But as the flickering in my vision continues, I have to admit that I don’t really have a better option right now. So I’m just going to have to push past the fear and see if I can get a last minute appointment with my doctor.

Better to be scared and getting treatment than the alternative, I remind myself, although my heart is already beating faster.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the anxious energy churning inside me as I call my primary care physician’s office. I doubt this is anything anywhere near as serious as what Casey dealt with, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried it could be. Between the migraines increasing in both frequency and intensity and the way my vision has been acting up, it could be any number of things wrong with me.

“Alliance Medical Group, how can I help you today?” A woman’s voice answer’s the call cheerfully.

“Hi, my name is Hannah Dunaway. I wanted to see if Dr. Newton possibly has any openings for today,” I say weakly. “I’m having a bad headache and wanted to get it checked out.”

“Hmm, let me see.” She goes quiet for a moment, and I can hear the quiet tapping of fingernails on a keyboard. “He doesn’t have anything today, unfortunately. But Dr. Singh had a cancellation today, so I could get you in to see him if that’s alright. How soon could you get here?”

“Soon.” I swallow hard. “I can leave now.”

“Great! I’ll get that all set up for you.”

She takes down my info quickly to confirm the appointment, and once it’s all set up, I end the call.

The hallway tilts alarmingly around me, and I consider for a second whether it’s safe for me to drive myself there. With my phone still clutched in my hand, I consider texting Declan and asking if he can pick me up to take me, but I rule it out quickly. He literally just told me he’d do anything for me, and I know he’d drop everything in a heartbeat, but I don’t want him worrying about me, and I know he’s got practice right now. I don’t want him getting into any more trouble on my behalf.

I’ve handled tough situations before. I can handle this too.

Moving carefully, I make my way out of the building, focusing on every step I take until I get to my car and sink into the driver’s seat. The sun’s bright rays pierce my eyes, sending daggers of pain through my skull and making the little halos that are dancing chaotically in my vision even worse. With shaking hands, I slam down the sunshade and reach for my sunglasses tucked into the glovebox. Instantly, everything feels somewhat more tolerable as the world around me darkens.

You can do this, Hannah. Just go slow and everything will be fine.

Gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline, I dig my key out of my purse and push it into the ignition to turn the engine. The noise and vibration of the car starting makes me wince in pain, but it’s tolerable, especially once my body adjusts to it.

“Okay, okay. You’re okay,” I mutter as I put my phone in the mount hanging from the windshield and open the maps app to pull up the location of my doctor’s office.

It’s not far from the law school, and I’m sure that on a normal day I could drive there from memory, but this isn’t a normal day, so I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. My thoughts feel foggy and disjointed, and with my vision out of whack, I could easily miss a turn.

With both hands gripping the steering wheel, I take a series of deep breaths to try to slow my racing heart. Once I feel somewhat steadier, I start gingerly rolling out of the parking lot. Thankfully, it’s the middle of the day so there isn’t as much traffic on the road as there normally is, and I make it to the doctor’s office in good time.

By the time I find a spot outside and shuffle through the sliding glass doors of large medical office, my head is throbbing mercilessly and I’m starting to get really worried. I check in with the receptionist I spoke to on the phone, each word sending fresh waves of pain through my skull.

She passes me a clipboard with a stack of intake forms, and I take it with a wince. Even in my condition, I know there’s no escaping medical paperwork.

“Take your time,” she says with an empathetic smile.

I squint at the forms, my vision swimming as I struggle to complete the basic information. My handwriting is barely legible, but I manage to get through the essential parts—name, birthdate, insurance, and symptoms—before handing it back.

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