Abruption (13 page)

“No,” Max yelped and clung tighter.

“Give us a minute,” I said to Margaret.

“No problem. I’m going to find some coloring books and crayons, and I’ll meet you back here in a few.”

“Hear that, Max? You can color.” I kissed the top of her head. She unburied her face from my shoulder and peeked up at me, still squinting. I was sure she was hoping if she squeezed her lids tight enough she’d wake up from this nightmare.

I’ve tried that myself, sweetheart. God, I wish it worked.

We stopped at bay four and all seemed quiet. I peered around the curtain and saw Guy lying on the stretcher with Finn curled up on his lap. His nurse was securing the Ace wrap around his IV, and for some unknown reason, jealousy consumed me. He was limp and lethargic, and I was overcome with a familiar surge of protectiveness. I hated seeing him so helpless. I would have given anything to see him in the throes of a full-out temper tantrum. This version of boneless was all wrong.

Swallowing back my sadness, I was grateful they didn’t have to wait to get situated. A small perk of being on staff.

Max wiggled free from my arms and went to the edge of the bed to rub her brother’s leg. “Finny, you okay?”

Guy’s frame was rigid and the muscles in his neck were taut as he cocked his head to watch his son’s eyes flutter open and closed. Finn was pale, and the skin around his normally sparkly blues was grey and sunken. He was no longer gasping for air, but his breathing was quick and shallow. I prayed the worst was over.

Or not.

From my spot across his room, I saw the telltale abdominal spasms. Shit, I knew what was coming. I lunged for the basin just in time. Finn started gagging, and Guy looked like he was about to lose his calm, or should I say the calm he was faking for his son’s sake.

“Fuuu … get her out of here. And he needs the goddamn antiemetic. NOW.”

Take that back, he lost it. His face was a mixture of frustration and fear as he hoisted Finn upright to avoid him choking.

Max’s crying added to the commotion consuming the small room. Guy’s outburst had everyone running. Margaret ushered Max out, whispering about crafts and snacks, while another nurse swapped out Finn’s basin and traded clean towels. Jill finally surfaced holding the IV meds.

I sat on the bed and pushed Finn’s curls off his forehead. “Deep breath, handsome. The medicine will make you feel better.”

His dry heaves slowly subsided, but the tension radiating off of Guy was wound to the breaking point. Jill hung the Zofran and gave Finn a little sweep across his cheek. Then she turned toward me and raised
her
brow. I was done with the elevated brow and returned with my own
not now
head shake. I patted Guy’s arm to grab his attention. “I’m going to call upstairs and get Finn a PICU bed.”

Jill squinted her eyes in question, and I coaxed her to follow me out of the room. I filled her in while I made the call. I knew the census was down, so there were plenty of beds. Finn would be more comfortable upstairs, and there was plenty of room for a cot for Max so she could close her eyes for a few hours. I might have been overstepping my bounds, but Guy had more than enough to worry about right now.

“Jules.” His rough voice called for me. I stopped and pulled the curtain back to meet his piercing stare. Finn had already shrunk back into his chest. “Go home—you don’t need to stay. I have this.”

I didn’t doubt him for a second, but I wondered how many times he had to
have this
all alone over the years?

“I want to stay.”

Because I did. What I couldn’t explain was why I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Despite the Zofran and IV hydration, Finn’s vicious vomiting cycle continued until sunrise. The working diagnosis was acute gastroenteritis. It was probably the most severe case I had ever encountered. Fortunately, his abdomen was non-tender, and he never spiked a fever or developed an elevated white count. Just to be safe, he had an abdominal X-ray that ruled out a bowel obstruction or perforation. All in all, it could have been worse, but to say the least, it was a
very
long night.

I glanced over at Maxie who was crashed on the roll-away cot and then back to Finn and Guy who were finally both asleep together on the hospital bed. I shrugged the thin white blanket up over my shoulders and rested my head against the recliner. For the first time all night, I let my body relax, never expecting the extreme level of exhaustion to reach my bones. I was used to working nights. It was normal for me to have little sleep and a handful of sick kids to deal with. But somehow this was different. It felt different. I felt different.

If nothing came of our relationship, if that was even an appropriate label for what was happening between us, I knew I cared for these kids more than I should.

If I was really being honest, I cared for their father way more than I should as well.

Damn it, how had I let this happen? I wasn’t ready for this and I probably never would be. These kinds of feelings needed more than a barren pulsating muscle to grow and flourish; my heart wasn’t capable.

I was in a trance staring at the clock’s second hand, when I heard Guy’s raspy voice whisper, “Hey.”

It was a few minutes past five—he couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour. “Awake already?”

“Not exactly the Ritz.”

I smiled. My funny guy was back. Shit,
my
? One kiss and temporary amnesia set in, erasing seven years of a numbing static, even though my brain was doing backflips and logging it as the best first kiss of all my first kisses. Frazzled, I tried to be funnier. “Ah, the Ritz is overrated. You really need to stop slumming it.”

He weaseled his way out from under Finn’s sleeping form and leaned against the wall by my chair. “I’m sorry about last night, wasn’t exactly—”

“Please don’t apologize, like you had any control over Finn getting sick.”

“I know, but …”

“No buts. The only thing that matters is that Finn is stable and seems to have turned the corner.”

“Thanks for staying. You didn’t need to. It was your night off.”

“What else could a girl ask for? After all, I had some great Mexican food
and
a margarita.”

“Think my hardwood floor got most of the margarita.”

“Right.” Because what else was I going to say? Heat hit my cheeks almost immediately, remembering how it spilled and knowing he was doing the same. Our heavy breathing and my erratic heartbeat had practically silenced the tink of glass hitting the floor.

“I’m sure you’re jonesing for a second date after I wine and dine ya at a dive, force you to watch a movie from 1990, and end the night splattered in my son’s vomit.” He unstuck the hair from my cheek (changing them from pink to red because that’s attractive, ugh) and kissed my temple. I wanted to tell him it was a perfect night and I was happy I was here to help, but not only was I battling embarrassment, I was distracted by the pounding in my chest making its way back up to my ears. He was coming for my lips.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” a woman shouted.

Guy startled and pulled away, and I jumped like a teenager getting caught doing way more than
almost
kissing.

“Shhhhh,” we said in unison.

“Sorry, sorry, I came as fast as I could.” I quickly glanced at both kids to make sure Maya hadn’t woken them, before wondering how she knew where to find us at, um, 5:15 AM. “Aunt Darla just texted me. I can’t believe this. Is he okay? He was fine when I put him to bed. What happened?”

“News travels fast,” Guy mumbled, obviously thinking the same thing as me.

Aunt Darla? I wondered if that was Guy’s wife’s mom. Made sense that he would have texted Finn’s grandparents to let them know what was going on, but I didn’t remember Guy taking out his phone at all last night.

“He’s better now, it was just a really long night. Jules stayed and was amazing with Finn. Honestly, I’m not sure I would’ve made it without her.”

“You should have called me, you know I would’ve come. What do you think it was? Did he have a CT Scan?” Maya asked in rapid-fire.

“Just an X-ray and it was normal. Probably a very severe gastroenteritis, but the scary part was the Zofran did very little to help the intractable vomiting,” I chimed in.

Maya covered her mouth and shook her head, visibly upset. “Do you think he needed an NG tube?”

“No, he caught a bug. It’s over.” I sensed Guy was seriously over talking about vomit and was relieved we were on the flip side. “But Maya, can you do us a favor and stay with the kids for a little? The worst seems to have passed. Max is down for the count and I want her to get some more sleep. I’m gonna run home, shower, grab her a change of clothes, and be back in a few hours. Then you can drop her at preschool?”

“Absolutely. No problem.”

“Good.” He pecked both kids on the head and turned to me. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go?

There was no way I was making it all the way to the Bronx and back in two and a half hours. My shift started at eight. I was planning on heading to the locker room and grabbing a pair of scrubs to change into. It was going to be a makeup-free, ugly hair day. Not that I cared, I had a date with a giant cup of coffee as soon as I was clean.

I followed him into the hall. “I don’t have time. I’ll just shower here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I start at eight and live in the Bronx.” Both he knew.

He grabbed my hand and stopped in front of the elevator bank. “Go grab some scrubs, unless you want to swim in mine all day. I’ll meet you in the lobby in five. We’ll shower at my place.” He kissed the side of my forehead again, pressed the elevator button for me, and disappeared into the stairwell.

“Okay,” I said to no one as a swirl of butterflies swept across my stomach.
We’ll shower
. I knew he meant individually, of course, but visions of him wet and naked clouded my thoughts.

I needed to stop this insanity; it was one damn kiss.

No big deal.

If it was no big deal, it didn’t explain why my legs felt weak, and any and all moisture from my mouth was gone.

The ride to his apartment was quiet. A comfortable silence, though. We were both exhausted, and small talk seemed like an unnecessary use of energy—at least I hoped that was why we weren’t talking.

“Ah shit, it smells,” he said, opening the door as a putrid waft smacked us in the face. “Need to get those sheets into the washing machine.”

“You grab a garbage bag, some carpet cleaner and paper towels. And point me in the direction of clean sheets.” He looked at me like I grew a new head. Whatever. He already called me bossy, might as well live up to it.

Unwilling to argue or too tired, he pointed down the hall. “Closet, outside the bathroom.”

Twenty minutes later, a full load was spinning in the washing machine, and an empty bottle of Febreze was in the recycling bin. Guy was busy taking out the trash when I decided it was finally time to shower. I padded down the dimly lit hall and stopped short when my reflection bounced off the bathroom mirror. Long, long, long night was riddled into every feature. It was borderline scary. I ran my fingers through my tangled, dark hair, pulling it into a ponytail, only to realize I didn’t have an elastic band on my wrist.

“You look beautiful.”

I flinched, releasing my hair. “You scared me, I didn’t hear you.”

His finger trailed across my shoulder bringing my silk top with it, evidently unfazed by my ragged appearance. He dipped down, pressing a soft kiss on that spot where my neck and collarbone join. A tingle rippled down my spine as my heart and stomach fluttered so strongly flight could have been imminent. He lifted his eyes and smiled. Screw the flutter—the way he was looking at me was altogether heart-stopping.

“Smell still bothering you?” he whispered.

Smell, what smell? That sense was completely turned off at the moment. Sight and touch were definitely screaming and fighting for first. Until he spun me around and pushed me against the counter, and a groan slipped from somewhere deep in his throat. Hearing took the lead. Leaning against me with the full weight of his body, he cupped my cheeks. Hands down, touch won.