“Actually, I’m not the happiest with your blood sugar reading.” Eric looked up from the small handheld monitor he’d used after pricking Marshall’s finger. “What have you eaten today besides the sandwich?”
“I was in a hurry. Coffee. Toast with peanut butter? I think. I remember making it, at least.”
“What if you forgot to eat it?” I suggested, already prepared to renew my offer to stay behind so Eric could rescue Marshall. However, before either could reply, the elevator gave a massive jolt. “We’re moving!”
The elevator jerked again, pushing us against the wall before the doors were pried open by two firefighters.
“Excellent work, Sean.” Eric nodded at the older of the two firefighters. “I knew your crew would come through.”
“Never in doubt.” The younger firefighter had an appealing, cocky grin.
“I’d like to bring you in for further monitoring,” Eric said as he helped Marshall up and out of the elevator, guiding him to a waiting gurney. Tennessee’s fiancé, Tate, an EMT, stepped to Marshall’s other side, urging him to sit.
“That’s a good idea, Marshall.” I used an encouraging tone. As much as I wanted to continue our conversation, I wanted him taken care of more. “You should listen to Eric.”
“Hey, Rory.” Tate nodded at me. “You’re welcome to ride with your friend or meet us there.”
“If he wants.” I turned back to Marshall, who had finally taken a seat on the gurney. He still looked far too pale and sweaty for my liking. “I’ll wait for you, Marshall.”
I meant the words on multiple levels. I’d wait here if that was what he wanted or wait at the ER. And I could wait for him to decide whether or not to take a risk on dating. After all, I’d already waited all these many months. Marshall was well worth my patience.
Chapter Four
Marshall
“The ambulance crew was right. Your insulin pump malfunctioned.” The emergency department at Mount Hope Hospital was crowded with a long wait to see this kindly but overworked nurse practitioner. He was a big bear of a forty-something guy, but he held my pump in a surprisingly delicate grip. I had a newer model insulin pump controlled via an app on my phone. “Possibly, it stopped getting data from your glucose monitor, or maybe a phone issue. You’re lucky you weren’t alone when your blood sugar crashed.”
“Yeah. I am pretty lucky.” I couldn’t believe I was saying that about getting stuck in an elevator, but things could have been worse. “And lucky Rory had a sandwich.”
“Indeed. Be sure to thank Rory for the rest of us.” The nurse practitioner clicked around on his tablet, mouth pursing as he muttered. Apparently unhappy with whatever he was looking up, he shook his head, returning his attention to me and the ER exam bed where I sat. “Have you managed your diabetes without the pump before?”
“Of course. I was diagnosed at seven. I’ve had a variety of different management medications and pumps over the years.”
“Good. I’m reluctant to have you put a new pump on if the phone app isn’t working right or the dose isn’t calibrated correctly. You’re going to want to get in with your endocrinologist ASAP. In the meantime, you can go with old-school monitoring and meds until the specialist can sort out your pump. I can write you some prescriptions.”
“Thanks. I know the drill.” I’d been expecting as much. My endocrinologist was back in Portland, but the drive wasn’t terrible. I had a strong feeling I’d be switching pump brands yet again. As much as injections sucked while waiting for an appointment, I didn’t want another episode. “I’ll call her office as soon as we’re done here.”
I glanced meaningfully at the exam room door.
“Hint taken that you’re ready for discharge, but I don’t want you driving or being alone tonight.”
Crap.I didn’t know that many people in Mount Hope yet. Rory had, however, offered to come along, and I’d been woozy enough to agree.
“A…friend followed the ambulance. I think.”
“Rory with the sandwich?” The nurse practitioner was a good guesser. “Let me check with the front.”
In short order, the burly NP had Rory escorted back to my room while my discharge papers were readied.
“How are you feeling?” Rory asked from the doorway. Despite the late afternoon hour, he looked no worse for the long wait, cute as ever in his Hawaiian shirt with a tentative smile.
“Better.” I motioned him in. “My pump screwed up, so I’m back on injections and manual monitoring. And the nurse practitioner wants to make sure I have a ride home.”
“You do.” Rory nodded enthusiastically.
“And someone to stick around tonight?” the NP added. “Not to put you on the spot, but going from the pump back to injections can be a rough transition. Marshall could use a friend.”
“He’s got one.” Rory’s grin was wide and genuine as ever, despite my whole I-don’t-date-coworkers speech. My stomach clenched around more than hunger though. I hated thinking I’d likely hurt him.
