Charlize steps in a second later, clipboard hugged to her chest, and her tired face cracks into a relieved smile.
“Hey, Doc,” she says softly. “How you feeling?”
I clear my throat but no sound comes out. It feels like sand scraping together.
Charlize nods. “Thirsty?”
I manage a small nod.
Patrick reaches for a water bottle on the tray, his hands still trembling. He uncaps it, slides a straw into the top, and holds it to my lips with the gentleness of a scared man. The first sip hits like heaven and fire at the same time. Too cold yet not cold enough. My stomach flips, my dry throat spasms, and a wave of dizziness rolls through me.
People don’t realize how awful that first drink can feel after dehydration. The body panics before it relaxes.
He pulls the bottle back, watching me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he blinks.
Charlize steps closer, flipping through her chart. “Alright, here’s what we know. You came in severely dehydrated, with a nasty electrolyte imbalance and low blood sugar. You’d been on the floor long enough that your core temp dropped too. Nothing dangerous now, but definitely enough to make your body shut halfway down.”
My stomach sinks. “How… long?”
Patrick swallows hard, still gripping the bottle like he needs something to hold on to. His voice comes out rough.
“Long enough.”
Charlize shoots him a look. “We estimate several hours. Your muscles were stiff, your skin was cool, and your vitals were unstable when EMS arrived. You’re lucky this one found you when he did.” She nods toward Patrick.
I turn my head, relief cutting through the fog. “The kids?”
“They’re ok,” he says quickly. “I brought Agnes with me and then I found you.” He swallows hard. “She’s with my parents now. They were here, but I asked them to take her home. They’ll pick up Milo too.”
I nod, then glance at Charlize. “I had a shift.”
She gives me a soft smile. “I don’t think anyone is going to blame you for missing it.”
The words should comfort me, but the old sting from the whole Murphy situation creeps in anyway. My throat works around nothing, hands shaking.
Charlize steps out with a promise to finish the discharge papers quickly.
The curtain falls back into place, and Patrick sits down beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. He hesitates, then takes my hand gently, almost afraid I’ll take it back.
“What happened?” he asks quietly. “My mom said you looked tired yesterday, but not like this.”
I stare at our hands, unable to look at him. “It’s not her fault. I hadn’t slept the night before and I fell asleep on the sofa withouteating or drinking anything. I woke up, but I was too dizzy to get up. I remember being on the floor. It was all blurry. In and out.” I draw a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t found me…”
“Don’t.” His voice cracks. “Please don’t say that.”
He looks down, gripping my hand harder, and for a moment his whole chest heaves like he can’t catch his breath.
“For a second,” he whispers, “I thought you were…” He stops. His jaw trembles. He tries again but nothing comes out. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet.
Something in me shifts at the sight. Something deep and old and impossible to ignore.
I start crying before I even realize it. Tears spill down my cheeks and he reaches out instantly, cupping my face with both hands like he can keep me together.
“Don’t cry,” he breathes. “You’re dehydrated.” It sounds ridiculous and worried and so heartbreakingly gentle that a laugh slips out of me.
“I can’t stop,” I whisper. “I can’t.”
His thumbs stroke my cheeks, wiping my tears even as more fall.
