He moved when I sat on the edge of the bed, plopping down on the floor at my feet. Swiping the thermometer across her forehead, the indicator flashed one-oh-three-point-two. She wasn’t just hot, she was boiling. I tried to wake her up again. Her eyes fluttered open, but her brilliant blues were unfocused and glazedover.
“Hey, Sunshine.”
“Don’t feel good,” she croaked, her eyelids drooping.
“I know, but I need you to stay awake for me, baby.”
“Mkay.”
I was out of my league. Basic first aid was the extent of my medical training, but I knew a fever that high wasn’t good. Laying the cool cloth against her heated skin, I stood, grabbing my phone and dialing the number by heart.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Waverly answered on the second ring.
“Sloane’s got a fever. I need to take her to the hospital.”
“How high?”
“A hundred and three..”
“Shit. We’re on the way.”
“What’s going on?” I heard Finn ask in the background.
“Sloane’s sick,” Waverly answered him, then said to me, “See if you can get her to take some Tylenol and try getting her in a cool shower. It’ll help bring the fever down.”
“I’ll try. Just hurry.”
Somehow, I managed to get us both into and out of the shower without slipping or accidentally dropping her, got a dose of fever reducer down her throat, and dressed her in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. By the time Finn and Waverly arrived fifteen minutes later, I was practically climbing the walls. The fact she was still pretty out of it made me twitchy and irritable, to the point where my best friend called me out on my behavior, recognizing it for what it was.
Absolute fear.
I’d lost her once, I couldn’t lose her again. I wouldn’t survive. Acting like an overbearing bastard was my way of dealing with it. Was I being ridiculous? Hell yes. Problem was, I didn’t give a fuck. Until she was better, everyonewould have to stay the hell away from me or risk my wrath.
When Waverly went upstairs to peek in on the twins, I wrapped a blanket around a shivering Sloane and carried her to my government-issued SUV. Finn walked ahead of us, opening the passenger’s side door.
“Take care of my sister. We’ve got the kids.”
“Thanks. I’ll text with updates as soon as I know anything.”
The short drive to the hospital did nothing to calm my nerves. If anything, I was strung tight. The security guard manning the doors jumped into action when I slammed on the brakes in front of the emergency room entrance, although it may have had something to do with the flashing lights on top of the SUV. Sure, activating the lights and sirens were frowned upon for personal use. It wasn’t my fault the FBI’s definition of an emergency wasn’t very specific.
Two hospital employees––a man and a woman––ran out the door, meeting me at the passenger’s side with a gurney. They were most likely expecting to see massive amounts of blood when I ripped open the door, not my semi-conscious girlfriend.
“What do you have, Officer?” the woman asked.
“Special Agent, not Officer, and this is my wife.” Only a patient’s family was allowed in the room with them. Telling the white lie was a better option than being arrested because that was the only way I’d be leaving her side. “Please help her. She’s got a high fever.”
I released her seat belt, lifted her out of the vehicle, then laid her gently onto the bed on wheels. We were on the move instantly. When we passed the guard, he stopped mebriefly to get my keys, assuring me he’d move the car to the lot.
“What’s her name?” she asked, pulling a set of curtains back to reveal a medium-sized exam room. The man––who’d steered the gurney, but had yet to speak––grabbed a blood pressure cuff and put it on her arm.
“Sloane.”
The next few minutes were chaotic as several other scrub-wearing people entered the room. They each seemed to have a different task. One started an IV and drew blood while another listened to her heart and lungs. I may have growled when her sweatshirt was cut straight up the middle, leaving her naked from the waist up. She was only uncovered briefly while a nurse attached several white stickers to her chest, which I recognized as electrodes for a heart monitor. As soon as she was connected to the machine, the same nurse placed a hospital gown over the top of her.
I was leaning against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, yet refusing to be far from her, when an older man strolled in. He walked over to Sloane, setting a tablet on the bed at her feet. He pulled a stethoscope from around his neck, put the black eartips inside his ears, and listened to her chest for what seemed like hours. Eventually, he put the stethoscope back where it came from, then turned to me.
“I’m Dr. Adams.” He stuck out his hand. I took it, returning his greeting.