My boyfriend swallowed roughly. “Okay. We’re not too late.”
I’d never heard Rikker sound so vulnerable. And if his Gran died, I was going to be really hacked off at the universe. I crawled forward a few inches and captured the side of his face in my hand. “We’re not going to be too late. Come on, now.”
He sighed. “She’s only seventy-six. I’m not ready.”
There was a lump in my throat now about a mile wide. And I couldn’t even blame my concussion. “This could turn out fine.”
He knocked his head back against the headrest. “If she goes, I have nobody left. That’s it.”
Something shifted in my gut, and not in a good way. I leaned all the way over to him now, catching the back of his neck in my hand. “That is just not true. I know she’s special, and I hope she lives to be a hundred. But you arenotalone. You hear me?”
His eyes shifted in my direction, and for a split second I saw him emerge far enough from his misery to really read my face. So I kissed him on the forehead.
“Thank you,” he said. “For…” he waved his hand toward the steering wheel.
“It’s nothing.” I heard the gas pump click off. “You need anything?” I pointed at the store. Because I was basically starving to death.
“Just need to get there.”
“You got it.” I hopped out to replace the gas cap. Food could wait.
I accelerated up the on-ramp again, marveling at my own stupidity.You need anything?That was the question I’d just asked Rikker. Today, for once, I really meant it. Too bad it took a freaking tragedy to extract my head from my ass.
The headache kicked in around White River Junction. And by Montpelier, it was fierce. “How fast can I drive this stretch?” I asked Rikker. I hadn’t seen a cop in a good long time.
“Eighty,” he said without hesitation. “They don’t patrol very hard. Just watch those U-turn spots in the median. Slow down for the ones that are blocked by trees.”
I kept our speed up, and I tried to ignore the pressure along my brow line. Rikker grew agitated as we approached the Burlington area. When his foot tapping started making me crazy, I reached over and settled a hand on his knee.
“Sorry,” he sighed.
There was nothing I could do but drive and give his leg a squeeze. No more texts had come through, either.
“You want exit fourteen,” Rikker said eventually.
Yes, yes I do. The last five miles seemed to take forever. But then we were finally pulling into a big parking lot, and then jogging on stiff legs toward the E.R. doors.
Inside, Rikker charged toward a desk, although there were too many other people waiting in front of it. Abruptly he changed course, veering into the waiting area. I spotted Skippy with two older women, and they were waving him down.
Skippy stood up to wrap Rikker in a hug, which should not have bothered me. But there was something awfully intimate about that hug, the way he pulled Rikker’s ear close to him and began to whisper. And Rikker’s eyes fell shut, listening to whatever soothing words Skippy had to say.
It’s hard to describe how badly this ate at me. But it wasn’t a typical lover’s jealousy. The problem was that I hadnevergreeted Rikker that way, and certainly not in a room full of people. It struck me how badly I wantedmyshare of that affection. I’d been missing out, and all because of fear.
Right then, a little light went on inside my thick head. I already knew that my refusal to come out had hurt Rikker. But until that moment, I don’t think I ever understood that it had hurt me, too. Because the cost of avoiding unfriendly eyes wasn’t nearly as great as the cost of forgoing even one of Rikker’s hugs.
I approached the two of them slowly, making a path between the people. And not a soul was bothered by the two men embracing on the green linoleum tiles.
When I arrived beside them, Skippy stepped back, but he held tightly to both of Rikker’s hands. “Okay, here’s what we know. If you’re going to have a stroke, you want to do it in a room full of people. She got her first CT scan about twenty minutes after she collapsed. And the window for treating a stroke with the strongest meds is something like three hours.”
“Did they give it to her?” I asked. “What’s that stuff… it breaks up clots, if you get it soon enough?”
Skippy nodded. “They gave it to her. She’s being scanned again right now.”
“John,” one of the older women said. She wrapped a wrinkled arm around Rikker. “Hang in there, honey.” Then she extended a hand to me. “I’m Gertie.”
Gertie? The one who cheats at poker?“Graham,” I said, shaking her hand.
“If you don’t mind,” Gertie said, “I’ll take John to try to find the doctor that explained everything to us. He won’t be able to see her until she’s back from the tests, though.”
