Page 30 of Rushing Her: Seattle, Westerners
“Lay her back,” the doctor orders, and she turns to her assistant, saying, “Call an ambulance.” She then moves to the head of the table and starts checking over Alexandra. “I was worried about this. Before you showed up, she told my nurse that she was still struggling with nausea, and that she hadn’t eaten very much today.”
“I didn’t know. She told me it wasn’t that bad.”
“I imagine she doesn’t want you to worry because you’re playing so well.”
“I don’t care about that. My career means nothing without her.” As those words pass my lips, Alexandra’s phone alerts to a message. Checking the screen, it shows she has several texts from an unknown number. Part of the message is displayed for the most recent one, and my blood runs cold.
Unknown Number
I will never allow you to take him from me. He’s mine. I’ll kill you. I have his baby, and you don’t. I made sure of that.
Anger boils to the surface, but I pocket the phone while taking a deep, cleansing breath to then focus on our current situation.
Alexandra’s hand remains in mine until the paramedics show up. The clinic is housed on the hospital campus, but we still need transportation to the ER. That’s why an ambulance was called. When they arrive, the doctor gives them an update that she fainted, possibly due to low blood sugar.
She looks at me, saying, “I’ll meet you in the ER shortly. Stay with her,” then turns to the medics. “He goes where she goes.” And her final words to me before leaving are, “I’ll let her security know where you are.”
We are taken through the same back entrance I came in only a short time ago. I follow as the medics monitor Alexandra, and we board the elevator to the underground garage, where it’s just a short ride across the property to the main hospital building. In that time, I text Alexandra’s parents to let them know what’s happening.
Acouple of hours and multiple tests later, Alexandra sits in bed with a tray of food in front of her and fluids running through her IV. They determined that not only was her blood sugar low, but her hydration, as well, and they want her to stay for the night.
My place is by Alexandra’s side; yet she takes a deep breath and sighs, resting back against the pillow. “You can leave, Bray. I’ll be okay. You have an early morning practice.”
“I’m not leaving. I’ve called the coaching staff and told them what’s going on. You are my priority, Lexi.” Bending over the bed, I kiss her forehead as my hand rubs her tummy.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the nausea.” She avoids my eyes for the last part, and I realize she’s hiding more.
“How about you tell me about the text messages?” I ask as I turn her head to focus back on me. “I can’t protect you if you don’t share everything with me. Warner and I need all the information. I have some friends stopping by to help us with this. I’m also getting you a new phone.”
“I can’t get a new phone. My clients have this number. I’m sorry, but again, I didn’t want you to worry. I thought if I ignored her, she’d go away.”
“She’s not going to stop until we make her. Now, you’ll unlock your phone so we can access the full messages.”
“Fine,” she huffs, and it’s so adorable I can’t stop myself from kissing the tip of her cute nose.
“I love you, Lexi.” I repeat those words often, hoping that she believes me and will tell me the same thing soon.
“I love you, too, pain in the butt,” she sighs, and I pause, tipping back slightly to take her chin in my hand, cupping it gently.
“Say it again, Lexi,” I order in a gruff tone.
In that sultry phone operator voice of hers, she gives me the words I’ve been dying to hear for years. “I love you, Brayden. I never stopped.” I lean down and kiss her lovingly.
“Knock knock,” a voice comes from the doorway behind us. “Are we interrupting?”
I pull away from Alexandra’s luscious lips but don’t turn around. “Yes, you're fucking interrupting.”
“Good, serves you right,” Thor chuckles as I hear him shuffle farther into the room.
Alexandra
Iwatch the couple move into the room. The woman is as tall as I am, but curvy—what people call a bombshell or pinup look to her body. She has chestnut hair and seems vaguelyfamiliar. The guy is tall, but not as tall as Brayden. His hair is brown but greying at the sides, with a wide streak at his forehead. I would consider him distinguished-looking. His arm wraps around the woman, with his hand resting on her hip.
Brayden stands at the side of my bed, shadowing over me as if trying to protect me. I don’t know if it’s the couple that has him so wound tight or if it’s something else. The woman smiles, and that’s when I realize who she is.
“You’re Briar Bennington. You work with Elora Danvers.”
“Prentrick,” the man corrects me. “She’s Briar Prentrick.”
