Page 59 of The Last Love Song
Thanking Lorena for her help and leaving her to her work, he jogged to catch up with Dr. Watts. The resident hadn’t been much on bedside manner, bleary-eyed and spending half the exam time talking about growing up on the West Coast once he’d found out Zach had attended college in San Jose.
“Doctor.” Zach matched his step to the older man’s, noticing the guy checked out ESPN highlights on his phone. “I’ve been waiting for Heather to return from her X-rays. Do you know where they would send her afterward?”
“Sure, sure…” The guy nodded, never taking his eyes off his screen as he pivoted the device so Zach could see it. “Look at number 33 tomahawk this one down.”
A one-handed dunk followed, and Zach faked interest, figuring he hadn’t gotten anywhere with Nurse Lorena by being demanding.
“Nice,” he commented, fresh out of sports enthusiasm at the moment.
But the bland remark must have been enough, because Dr. Watts clapped him on the shoulder to turn him around, then marched him right past Lorena through the restricted-access doors.
“This way.” Dr. Watts nodded to a colleague as they passed a nurse escorting a shuffling older woman down the busy hall. Most of the doors were open to treatment rooms where patients waited to be admitted or see different doctors. “I ordered somefluids for her and called for a rheumatologist to take a look before we send her home.”
“Even with the fever?” Zach dodged a janitor’s cart and then skirted a group of interns following a nurse around the unit.
“It’s holding steady at 102.” Turning another corner, Dr. Watts pointed to a quieter hallway. “She’s in the last room on the right.”
Zach wanted to question him further, to shake out more answers about what the hell was going on with Heather’s health. Two things stopped him. First, that Heather had made it clear she wanted to be in charge of sharing those details. Second, he guessed Dr. Watts knew more about college hoop than whatever was wrong with Heather.
“Thanks, Doc. Much appreciated.” Zach nodded and headed down the hall.
The long walk gave him too much time to think about Ellie’s time here. Too many medical professionals had kept him away from his sister then, too. He’d been stuck in some outer waiting room when he’d heard the code call over the speakers. Knew it was an emergency by the way nurses and doctors took off running.
And he’d known in his bones who the code was for. Whose life hung in the balance that night. All because she’d kept her damn secrets, too. And because Zach had been too focused on getting out of Heartache—away from his family—to notice how depressed she’d been.
“Hey, Zach.”
The soft sound of his name called him out of the past, making him realize he’d reached Heather’s room and stood framed in the doorway. Staring at her but not seeing her. At least, not at first. His brain cleared, the present shoving aside the past, even if it left him ice cold inside.Heather lay in a bed with a bleached-white blanket tucked around her. Her pink tennis sneakersstuck out of the bottom of the thermal cotton, the same shoes she’d worn to dance in less than twelve hours ago. Her cheeks were flushed, the fever evident no matter that Dr. Watts hadn’t seemed concerned. She looked more alert, though, her blue eyes clear and not as pain-fogged as before.
“Hey, yourself, superstar.” He said it to make her smile. But maybe he had already stuck his foot in his mouth.
Would her health prevent her from the dreams she so desperately wanted to pursue?
“I feel bad you’re still here.” She moved over on the bed and tugged the blanket closer. “Want a seat? You must be exhausted.”
“I’m guessing I feel better than you.” Stepping deeper into the small room, he tried to pull his head together as he closed the door. Focus on Heather and not think about the sound of Ellie’s heart-rate monitor when she’d flatlined for interminable seconds.
His mother had been visiting his father at the county jail that day, leaving a seventeen-year-old kid in charge of his sister.
“I’m not sure how long they are going to keep me here. You definitely don’t need to stay.”
“I’m not leaving.” He lowered himself to sit on the side of her bed. He was still mad that she’d drawn a line in the sand with him, hadn’t wanted to share anything with him. But hell, he wanted to be close to her.
“Yet you’re so angry with me you can hardly look at me,” she said softly, picking at a loose thread on the white blanket.
A gesture he knew about, thanks to peripheral vision, so maybe she had a point. He fixed his full attention on her, saw her shifting on the bed. An IV was taped to one wrist. She wore a hospital gown. Someone must have helped her change for the X-rays.
He’d been a wreck trying to dress her back at his house, scared of hurting her more. Worried that he’d already hurt her somehow when they’d been together earlier.
He rested his hand over hers, careful to stay clear of the IV. “I don’t want to argue with you while you’re not feeling well. I know stress isn’t good for your condition.” He used a whole lot of restraint to limit his remarks to just those few words. “I’m not about to add to the tension factor.”
“You don’t cause me stress.” She linked her fingers with his.
Just a few hours ago, her hands had been all over him, pulling his clothes off. He’d thought it was the start of something special. It’d sure felt that way to him. But while he’d been thinking about getting closer to her, she’d already built walls around herself.
“Of course I do. I’m having the town sheriff investigate your father’s political past. Turning the public eye on your family. I’ve caused a lot of tension for all the Finleys, but you especially.” Guilt pounded with every heartbeat, forcing out the fear that had been dogging him all evening. “That could have triggered this episode, you know. The strain and anxiety from that.”
“That’s not true.”
