For now, anyway.
It’ll come crashing in as soon as I’m alone again. It always does.
2
MILES
“Hey, Miles, can you check on the patient in 3124?”
I whip my head up, concern blooming in my chest. That’s Ruth. The woman with large red glasses. “Is she okay?”
Dr. Mullins frowns. “She asked for help to the bathroom.”
I blink at him.And you couldn’t be bothered to help her?“Oh. Uh, sure. I’ll go in a minute.”
The doctor walks away without so much as a thank-you.
I grind my teeth together. I knew Dr. Mullins was a douche, but seriously?
Ana gives me the side eye before leaning in to whisper, “Do you see what I mean? He’s just… ugh.”
I nod without replying.
After slipping the iPad onto the docket, I walk down the hall toward Ruth’s room. She came in two days ago with stomachpain and is being monitored for constipation and kidney stones, though the initial tests came back negative.
The older woman is sitting up, brown eyes comically big behind her glasses. But right away, I can tell something is wrong. Her smile is too weak.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say in a warm tone. “A little bird told me you needed some help.”
The woman groans. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for. You feeling okay, otherwise?”
Ruth doesn’t reply, which is a red flag for me. She’s usually chatty when I visit. She must be pretty uncomfortable.
Needing to be sure we aren’t missing any other symptoms, I swipe a digital thermometer across her forehead. When it beeps, I gasp and turn it around to show her the screen.
“Look at that. Perfect as a peach.”
She smiles weakly.
I lower the bed rail. “Have you been drinking enough water?”
“Plenty.” Her dry lips give away her lie.
“Mm-hmm. Tell you what. I’ll get you some fresh water and ice chips when we’re done, okay?”
“Maybe some food too?”
“I’ll ask, sure.” Dinner was delivered a few hours ago, but Ruth is a night owl, so her eating habits don’t line up with the hospital’s serving times.
Slowly, I ease her out of the hospital bed. She has a surprisingly firm hold around my arm.
“You must have been a golfer in your younger days,” I say, gesturing to her hand.
She gives a bemused smile. “Tennis, actually.”
“Ah, see. I was close. I could tell by how tight your hold is. Did you play singles or doubles?”
