“Ewan,” I say.
Maddie chokes on the water, spluttering. “Let’s not be dramatic. I’ve been working too hard, and I’m just tired, that’s all.”
I know that smile. And I know that tone of voice. Her pageant mom taught her well.
Once she goes into “everything is fine” mode, there’s no pulling out the truth. Not tonight.
“Okay. Let’s get you to the clinic,” I say.
“If the parking lot’s not clear of that power line yet, we can take my car through the snow,” Foster says.
I’m going to have to marry this man, aren’t I?
I call Riley on the way to the urgent clinic.
“What’s happening? Why are you calling instead of texting? Who died?” Riley says immediately upon answering.
I almost laugh. “Nobody. Maddie sort of…collapsed at the dance. She’s okay, but we’re taking her to the urgent care clinic.”
“Oh god, they aren’t open at this hour,” Riley says.
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about the time.
“Urgent care is closed,” I tell Foster from the back seat of his SUV.
“It’s fine. I’m perfectly fine,” Maddie insists.
Foster looks at me over his shoulder briefly as he navigates the roads, and he sees the worry in my eyes.
He gives a curt nod and then takes a sharp left, headed toward the main highway south.
Maddie clucks. “My house is the other direction.”
“We’re going to the ER in Asheville,” Foster says.
“It’s an hour away!” Maddie protests. “Ari, tell your boyfriend?—”
“To take you to the ER? I just did,” I inform my best friend.
I give her the look that she knows too well. Maddie might have a one-track mind, but she has met her match when it comes to downright stubbornness.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” Maddie says.
“Great,” I tell her. “Then an ER nurse or doctor in Asheville will confirm it.”
Riley and Rowdy meet us at the ER in the city, and we women help Maddie fill out paperwork while Rowdy and Foster disappear to the vending machine room to gather snacks for what will no doubt be a long night.
Before too long, Maddie gets checked in and is seen by a nurse, who takes her vitals and has her hooked up to an IV drip.
Rowdy and Foster find us in one of the curtained-off rooms and come bearing coffee, hot chocolate, chocolate, chips, and candy.
“It’s the best we could do,” Foster says.
Riley takes the hot chocolate, and I happily take the coffee.
“Thanks. What do I owe you?”
Foster frowns. “Nothing. Don’t even start with that.”
