Page 41 of Doctor's Baby: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

I need to tell Mrs. Lee.

I do a frantic walk-run toward the rehabilitation wing.

Why is this hallway so fucking long?

I shuffle frantically through my patient files, looking for Mrs. Lee’s number. There’s just too much shit to filter though. This would be so much easier if the school implemented an electronic filing system.

But no. No, we’ve got to do it the old-fucking-fashioned way.

I finally manage to locate Eve’s folder and nearly shout out in triumph.

“Found you, you little shit.”

I shakily dial Mrs. Lee’s number, listening to the long, sharp dial tones before she finally picks up.

“Hello?”

I freeze. I know I need to tell her what’s happened, but I also don’t want her to freak out.

“Mrs. Lee,” I start slowly. “This is Nate.”

“Ah, Nate! Why you call? I’m at work right now.”

“I know, Mrs. Lee. I don’t mean to trouble you. It’s just—it’s Eve.”

She goes dead silent.

There’s a pressure on my chest, like an elephant’s decided to use me as a stepping stool. I’ve been on her end of the phone call before. When Pops called me in the middle of the night to tell me something had happened to Jacob, all I felt was fear.

“Eve? What happen to her?”

“She had a fall during ballet class,” I say, making a point to keep my tone calm and level. The last thing I want to do is to scare her. “She’s been taken to the hospital.”

“Is she okay?”

Fuck. She sounds like she’s going to cry.

“I don’t know, Mrs. Lee. I strongly encourage you to go and see her. The ambulance just left.”

“Okay. I come, I come. Thank you, Nate.”

She hangs up in a hurry.

I toss my phone onto the nearest worktable and slump into the chair next to me. I streak my fingers through my hair, grab at the roots hard enough my scalp stings.

I try to stay logical. Athletes overwork themselves all the time. It’s not a good thing to have happen, but it’s not the end of the world.

But this is Eve. Of all the people this had to happen to, why does it have to be her?

I do my best not to think about Eve waking up alone in the emergency room. I pray her mom makes it to her before that happens. If I were Eve, I’d personally lose my shit.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeeze my eyes shut, and let out a heavy sigh. I want to be there with her. I want to make sure she’s okay. It drives me crazy knowing I can’t be there for her.

“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath. “Fuck, why is this happening?”

The tiny voice in the back of my head begs me to go. I may not be allowed to accompany Eve to the hospital in the ambulance, but there’s no rule against visiting.

What if she doesn’t want to see me?

I swallow the doubt down like a giant pill. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want to see me. I need to see her. I don’t think I’ll be able to rest until I know she’s okay.

I drop everything and head for the parking lot, my car keys already in my hand.

Chapter Twenty

Eve

I don’t like the hospital. Never did.

It’s too cold. The air smells of disinfectant and general staleness. The glow of fluorescent lights gives me a headache.

There’s a pressure behind my eyes, a dull throbbing in my skull. My stomach’s settled down, but only because it’s too empty for me to hurl anything up. My limbs are weak, exhausted to the point that I can’t even lift a finger without straining.

In short, I feel like shit.

The bed I’m lying in is surprisingly comfortable and warm. The blankets covering my lower half are a bit scratchy, but I’m too tired to complain. I much prefer this over the cold, hard dance floor.

That’s when it hits me.

“What happened?” I mumble, my voice hoarse and cracking. “Did I faint? What am I doing here?”

Someone places their hand on my wrist. I tilt my head over and find A-Ma sitting next to me. She looks terrible. Her eyes are all puffy from crying, her nose is red and stuffed up, and there’s a collection of crumpled tissues on her lap.

She mumbles something in Cantonese, incomprehensible through her heavy sobbing. A-Ma’s crying so hard that I can only make out a few words.

“Work too hard…Hit head…So worried…”

“I’m all right,” I lie. “I didn’t eat enough for breakfast. That’s all. I’m sorry to have worried you.”

“You sleep for whole day!” she wails in broken English. “You not ‘all right.’ I’m not dumb, girl. Something wrong with you.”

I don’t have the energy to argue. I want to go back to sleep.

I turn my head to look at the machines I’m hooked up to. I’ve got no idea what they’re supposed to be monitoring. My heart rate, probably. I’m sure Nate will be able to tell me if I ask—

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