She snorted, which was a good sign. She sighed as she neared the side of my bed and scooted the chair so she was right next to me. She took my hand in both of hers and rested it against her cheek, her eyes closing as she took a few breaths.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, my chest fluttering with worry. “You ran out of here…you’ve been crying.”
“I think it all hit me at once. I kept it together since seeing you on the field, then once you were safe, your sister was with you, all those emotions and the adrenaline crashed hard. I’mokay now, thank you.” Her soft brown eyes moved from my head to my chest, to the wires, then to my face again. “How are you? What’s going through your head?”
“You.”
Her eyebrows crinkled together. “What do you mean you?”
“Sloane, honey, I’ve never seen you cry, and we’re going to have to face what happens next with us being together. If you let me use your phone, I can call my agent and see if he can help me walk.”
“Walk? Oliver. No.” She scoffed. “Is this what Rachel meant about you plotting bad ideas?”
“You’re not losing your career over me, and I’m not losingyou.” I fisted one hand against the bed, and she tracked it. “I don’t think you understand that you’re it for me, alright? I might not have football in one, two, five years because of my body. No guarantee. But you and me? We will be together.”
I was gonna marry this woman. Kids or no kids, house or condo, dog or cat, we were it, and if she thought I’d give that up, then I was shit at expressing how I felt. “I’m a liability and now known as the guy who passed out on the field. I’m not gonna get picked up or wanted anymore.”
“Just… stop for a second.” Sloane winced and rubbed her forehead, stress radiating off her in waves. “You can’t quit. This is your team, your dream.”
“No, Sloane. I’m a football player who can be traded at any point. This is your team.” I tugged her a little so she leaned forward, and I kissed her. She gently ran her fingers over the back of my head, moaning a little as I elongated the kiss. I needed the connection, her touch, her attention. “Tell me you’re still in this, that we’ll figure this out.”
“Of course I’m still in this, you idiot.” She grinned against my mouth, her eyes crinkling on the sides. “I’m choosing you over everything, Oliver. For the career-obsessed woman, wholost so much along the way…I chose you. Sure, I want to throw up thinking about the PR statement around me leaving or the thought of looking Mac in the eyes, but you know what? None of that compares to seeing you on the field unmoving. None of it.”
I cupped her cheek, taking a shaky breath as the weight of her words settled over me. “We both choose each other over our careers. We’re romantic as fuck.”
She laughed again, the sound magic to me, as she leaned back. “I can submit my resignation letter when we get home.”
Before either of us could say anything else, a quiet knock came from the partially open door.
A nurse stepped inside, holding a tablet in one hand and a blood pressure cuff in the other. Her gray scrubs were crisp. Her face was calm. She didn’t flinch at the tension in the room.
“Oliver James?” she confirmed, eyes on her chart. “I’m Gail. I’ll be your nurse through the next shift. I’m going to run another vitals check and update you on the next steps.”
Sloane leaned back in the chair but kept hold of my hand. I couldn’t bring myself to let go either.
Gail moved around the side of the bed. “How’s the chest? Any dizziness? Lightheadedness since you woke up? They did that reset. I know the adenosine can make you tired and sometimes dizzy or nauseous.”
I shook my head. “No chest pain. Just tired. Like I can’t get ahead of it.”
She nodded like that made sense. “That tracks. Your body’s been compensating. You were in continuous SVT for a prolonged period without pharmacological intervention. We’re watching for secondary fatigue and vasovagal episodes.”
She clipped the pulse ox onto my finger and wrapped the cuff around my arm. Her tone didn’t change. Everything about her stayed even. I was used to hearing tension in people’s voices when they talked about me lately. Hers had none.
“BP’s holding,” she said. “Oxygen’s stable. Resting HR—70s, not flagging past threshold.”
Sloane shifted in her seat but said nothing. Her eyes were on the monitor. I knew the look. She was reading my numbers in real time.
Gail finished the readings and turned back toward her chart. “You’re on a full cardiac telemetry loop until the morning. The attending physician reviewed the initial ECG and confirmed consistent SVT. We were clearly able to medically cardiovert you, which is keeping you in a normal sinus rhythm and an average heart rate. This is what we like to see.
“That’s a positive. It suggests your episode was exertion-triggered rather than baseline spontaneous.”
I nodded once, trying to absorb everything they were saying. “So what’s the plan?”
“You’re admitted under observation for a minimum of twenty-four hours,” she said. “We’ll repeat labs in the morning. If your heart rate remains stable overnight and the telemetry doesn’t show any arrhythmias, you may be cleared to discharge late tomorrow.”
Sloane finally spoke. “And if it doesn’t hold?”
“Then you stay,” Gail replied. “Cardiology will fast-track your ablation schedule. Depending on how you respond to the overnight panel, they’ll determine whether consultation happens here or post-discharge.”
