Page 86 of Sweet Spot
I check my phone, trying not to be sad that Lincoln hasn’t texted. I know it’s possible he isn’t tracking the tournament, though some part of me refuses to believe that. That part is still hopeful and closely tied to my need to believe what Lincoln and I had went beyond obligation and a casual fling.
My body aches, and I’m so tired when I spot Potter waiting for me with a big pleased smile on his face that I don’t bother to try to avoid him. I’m so hot, but my skin feels dry instead of sweaty when I wipe my hand across my forehead. I suck in a deep breath that doesn’t do anything to get oxygen to my lungs.
Coach Potter rests an arm around my shoulders, and I try to move out of his hold, but there’s nowhere to go and my legs are shaky underneath me. God, if he’d just stop touching me, maybe I could catch my breath.
My mouth is gritty, and my throat aches as I try to swallow. Dots blur my vision. I really need to eat something.
If I could just get to a quiet area and relax for a few minutes, then I would be okay. My stomach twists violently, stopping me in my tracks. Bile rises, and I heave. My throat is so dry it takes three attempts to bring up my breakfast.
I’m aware that I’ve puked on Potter’s shoes, but the pain is so intense I can’t even be happy about it. My legs give out, and I collapse.
I’m out only a few seconds, I think, but when I open my eyes again, two people in tourney polos are carrying me into a private room. Potter elbows his way into the room behind them.
A lady, who introduces herself as Mary, assures me she’s a doctor and then asks me a bunch of questions. I answer in a daze. There’s a real threat of puking every time I open my mouth.
“Can I have some water?” I croak.
One of the polo dudes hands me a bottle of water, even going as far as to unscrew the cap for me.
“Keira, I think you have heat stroke,” Mary says. “I have a car waiting for you.”
I lift my head and see the seriousness in her expression as she places a cool washcloth on the back of my neck. “It’s just a precaution.”
I want to put up a fight, but I can’t seem to form the words. The room is spinning, and it feels as if I’m burning from the inside out.
I’m helped to my feet and taken out a back exit to a waiting car. I have enough wherewithal to realize I probably need to text my parents and let them know what’s happening, but I can’t remember if I actually do it.
Potter slides into the back of the car with me, and I can’t help but think his presence isn’t helping at all.
32
Lincoln
I’mon the phone with a client when I get the call about Keira. The fact that Gram knows before I do would be obnoxious if I weren’t so pissed that I wasn’t there. I wrestled with going all morning, finally deciding it was best for Keira if I didn’t show. She didn’t need any distractions.
“Is she okay?”
Gram does her best to sound calm, but I can hear the worry in her voice. “I’m not sure, but they took her to the hospital.”
I grab my keys and head out the door at a run. “Which hospital?”
I jump into my SUV and am starting it and slamming the gear into reverse before the door is even closed. Dark clouds hang low and rain spits onto my windshield just hard enough that I have to use the wipers.
I don’t remember the drive over, parking, or running through the hospital, but I’m panting when I get to the emergency room. The woman behind the front desk looks at me as if I might be the one in need of help.
“Keira Brooks.”
“Are you family?”
“No.” I grind my teeth.
Her flat smile tells me I’m not getting back there. “If you have a seat, I’ll let the nurse know Miss Brooks has a visitor.”
A woman in scrubs stands holding the door to the emergency room open as she calls the next patient. Fuck it. I run past her.
“Sir. Sir. You can’t be back there, sir.”
Over the intercom, they call for security, which means I have to find her fast.
