She was? Maybe shewassick. “I might go take a shower and rest.”
“I’ll come with you.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m okay.”
“Clara, you just almost passed out. I’m not letting you stand in a hot shower by yourself.”
His phone rang.
“Answer it,” Clara said softly. “Then join me.” She lifted to her toes and kissed his cheek before heading out of the room.
When she reached the bathroom, she touched her forehead. He was right—shewashot. Was it a virus?
Once the shower was on, she stripped and stepped under the stream. The hot water beat down on her shoulders, and for the first couple minutes, the warmth made her feel better. Then that light-headed feeling returned, this time hitting her with force, making her sway again.
She tried to grab the wall to catch herself but missed and hit the floor of the shower.
“It was just a client about a cabinet I’m—” The bathroom door opened, and Holden cursed before sprinting to her, turning off the water, and dropping to her side. “Clara, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think the heat made the dizziness worse.”
“We’re going to the hospital.” He grabbed a towel from behind him, wrapped her in it, and lifted her. She barely had to do anything as he dried her and helped her pull on leggings and a shirt. Then they were in his truck and he was speeding to the hospital.
Holden felt sick,and if a fucking doctor didn’t come and check on Clara in the next five minutes, he was going out there and finding one himself.
He shot a glance at Clara on the bed. They’d been shuffled into this small room where a nurse had asked a few questions, but so far, no one else had come to see her.
The rhythmic beeping from other rooms drummed in his ears. The smell of antiseptic and something metallic made that nausea in his gut ripple.
Fuck, he hated hospitals. His skin crawled just standing in this room, but he couldn’t let Clara see that. This wasn’t about him—it was about her.
He shifted his gaze back to her on the bed, but the memory of her on the shower floor replayed in his head, and he could almost feel that fear again like he was right there.
He’d found his mother like that a few times. As young as fourteen years old, he’d had to call an ambulance for her. One second she’d be fine, the next she’d be on the floor.
“Where’s the damn doctor?” Holden growled. “We’ve been here an hour.”
He went to step away, but Clara grabbed his arm. “Holden, they’re busy. They’ll come when they can. And I’m actually feeling a bit better with the rest and water.”
How was she so calm?
When her thumb stroked his elbow, the edge of his anger smoothed. Not all of it, but a bit.
He sat on the bed beside her. “I hate that you’re not feeling well.”
“Me too. But it’s probably just a virus.”
There was something in her voice, a hint of uncertainty, that made a knot form in his gut. Did shenotthink it was a virus? What was she not saying?
The door opened, and Clara looked up first. Her fingers immediately tightened on his arm. He followed her gaze to see an older man with white hair and a mustache. In his hands was a folder.
“Dr. Bennett,” Clara said. “I didn’t know you were in today.”
To anyone else, her voice would sound normal. But he heard the ring of nerves that shadowed each word.
“Hi, Clara. Fortunately, I was here seeing patients when the nurses told me you were in.”
She nodded, but the move was jerky. She turned to Holden. “Holden, this is Dr. Bennett. He was…ismy oncologist.”
