“And now you’re standing in front of my brother’s hospital room, acting like you’re coming in to visit with me!”
“Right, and?”
“And don’t you see the problem with that?”
“Nope.” He was grinning again. I growled in frustration. The boy was intolerable, really. In the space of thirty minutes, I’d gone from infatuated to indignant — no doubt some kind of record.
“Bash, you can’t come in with me. Jamie doesn’t know you. And it doesn’t make any sense for you to visit!”
“So you’re saying Jamie doesn’t want company?”
Ugh. He had me there. Jamie wasalwayslooking for company. He was bored stiff in that room all day, so any novelty was welcome. Several times, I’d caught him charming the candy stripers into neglecting their shifts and staying for extended visits, but that was probably just because he liked to look at their cute little red uniforms.
“Well, no. Not exactly,” I hedged.
“So you’re saying you don’t want to be seen with me?”
“No! That’s not my point here,” I whispered in a frustrated voice. He was twisting my words, muddling my argument.
“Whatisyour point, then?” he asked. “Because if Jamie wants visitors, I want to visit, and you have no issues with it… I don’t see the problem.”
“But— Well—” I spluttered, at a loss for words. Somehow this entire conversation had been steered out of my control, and I had no idea how to get it back. I opened my mouth to protest again, but froze abruptly when I heard it.
The sudden, unmistakable sound of the heart monitor in Jamie’s room as it stopped its rhythmic metronomic beeping, and instead released a horrifying, long tone that pierced the air and made every inch of my body break out in gooseflesh. I knew that sound — I spent my every waking moment dreading its arrival.
A flat line.
Jamie’s heart had stopped.
My terrified gaze met Sebastian’s for one suspended instant before I sprang into action, racing around the corner that concealed us from view and sprinting into Jamie’s room.
“Help!” I called over my shoulder, hoping someone at the nearby nurse’s station would hear my cries. “His heart’s stopped!” I could feel the tears of panic gathering behind my eyes, and I sensed Sebastian’s presence close behind me as we stopped short at Jamie’s bedside. Distantly, I registered the sounds of nurses yelling for the crash cart, wheels and sneakers moving on the squeaky linoleum floors.
I looked at Jamie and felt my own heart stop.
“Hey, sis,” he said, grinning at me from his bed. I watched, dumbfounded, as he fiddled with the heart monitor wires on his right wrist. When the electrodes slid back into place, the flat line ceased abruptly and the sound of his strong, even heartbeats filled the room.
“Sorry, Wendy!” Jamie called to the harried woman in scrubs standing in the doorway. “False alarm. These dang electrodes just won’t stay on, today.” My head swiveled back and forth between them and I watched as he winked at her and she smiled in return.
“Haven’t you heard the story of the boy who cried wolf, James?” she asked with a disapprovingtsksound. “Just do me a favor and don’t mess with the wires when Benita is on the floor. She’s cranky enough these days.” With a playful wave in my direction, Wendy left the room, shooing out the crash cart response team as she went.
“So, sis, how goesit?” Jamie asked, leaning back on his bed in a pose of full relaxation.
I stared at him, vibrating with anger. I heard Sebastian let out a snort of laughter behind me, and promptly elbowed him in the ribs.
“James Arthur Kincaid, you are inso much trouble!” I hissed, striding closer to the bed.
“Aw, come on sis. Don’t have a heart attack,” he joked. Looking around me to Sebastian, he asked, “Too soon?”
“You might want to let her cool down a little before throwing around the heart failure jokes,” Bash advised with a grin. I glared icily at them both in quick succession.
“What the hell were you doing, Jamie? Trying to scare me to death?” I asked.
“Oh, relax. Without my little flat line, you two would still be out in the hall bickering about whether Sebastian here could come in and see me, and my precious visiting hours would be wasting away,” he said. “Also, I want my contraband.”
“Contraband?” Bash asked, his brows lifting amusedly.
“Maybe you don’t deserve it,” I told Jamie.