I lie flat on my belly, cautiously putting my lips to Olive’s ear. “I’m here, Olive. Ari and I are getting you help. Please be okay, baby. I need you to be okay.”
The logical side of me knows that she is probably okay since the cut is no longer gushing; I can see it’s more of an ooze. But I don’t know how long she’s been out or if she has other injuries. The whirring sound of an ambulance brings me a sense of relief and dread.
“What’s the situation here?” a paramedic asks Ariella.
“We, uh, we don’t know. She was supposed to be going on a date with Sam but didn’t show. We tracked her phone and this is . . .”
“Sam O’Reilly, sir.” I stand up to introduce myself. “We found her like this. It looks like she hit her head.” He eyes mesuspiciously but moves closer to Olive, kneeling beside her and checking her pulse.
“She’s got a strong pulse. Probably knocked herself out, but we’ll do a full workup on our way to MH Memorial. Tina, get the backboard and stretcher,” the paramedic barks at his partner.
“Can we ride with you?” I ask him.
“Only one of you can come in the rig. Name’s Johns, by the way. John Johns.” He extends his gloved hand to me while he waits for Tina to cart everything he needs over from the ambulance.
“Uh, nice to meet you, John. Please take care of her.” My mind is stuck on his name. Whose parents would do such a thing? Ariella and I make eye contact. I can tell from her smirk she’s thinking the same thing.
John Johns and Tina (last name unknown) carefully place a neck brace on Olive before turning her over onto the backboard and hoisting her up onto the stretcher. I keep thinking she’s going to wake up with all the jostling, but nothing. Olive is out, completely lifeless, and my stomach is officially lodged in my throat.
Turning to Ariella, I say, “You go with them. I’ll grab my truck and meet you over there.”
“No, Sam. You should go. She’s going to need things from home, and I’m not sure she would forgive me if I let you rifle through her panty drawer in search of pajamas.”
“We can worry about that later. I can run faster than you. Just go, I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
With a nod, Ariella races to the ambulance and disappears inside. As soon as she’s gone from view, I run. I have to get to the hospital as quickly as humanly possible. I don’t want Olive to wake up and wonder where I am. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t expect me to be there? I’m hooked on her, but this thing between us is still new.
Shaking off the thoughts as my feet hit the uneven sidewalk, I focus on what I do know: I care for her, more deeply than I should. The paramedic didn’t seem overly panicked about her condition. She’s in good hands.
I reach my truck in no time, hop in, fire up the ignition, and peel out of my driveway.
Hospitals all have the same smell. It’s a mixture of bodily fluids and bleach. The scent tickles my nostrils as I approach the circular desk in the emergency room and step up to the counter. A nurse with silver hair tied in a topknot with a pen says, “Do you need to be seen?” She eyes me suspiciously. Most people her age do, given my tattoos.
“No, ma’am. I’m looking for Olivia Bowman. She came by ambulance.” I turn to search the waiting room for Ariella but don’t spot her.
“Are you family?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” It’s a bold statement. Certainly not one we have discussed, but this situation calls for a little exaggeration. I think.
“You’ll have to take a seat. Her family is with her. I’ll need to check if she is accepting visitors.” Her family? What? How?
As I’m wondering what the nurse means, an automatic door opens into the ER and Ariella calls out, “Sam, over here.”
I don’t wait for the nurse to confirm I can go. Instead, I walk swiftly over to Ariella and slide into the hallway before the door closes again. I can faintly hear the nurse yelling for me to wait.
“Where is she?” I ask, plopping down in a tattered leather chair next to Ariella.
She points into the room straight ahead. The curtains are drawn. All I can make out is six pairs of feet crowded around the wheels of a hospital bed.
“Did they tell you—”
“No. They haven’t said anything. She came to for a few minutes on the ride here. But nothing she said made any sense. Did you two have a fight?” Ariella crosses her arms and sits back, slouching against the leather chair.
“What? No? Why would you ask that?” I stand and begin to pace, but she stops me, coming over and leading me back into the chair with a shove.
“She was begging you to forgive her. And you know, it doesn’t really all add up. You were supposed to be with her. What would she need to apologize for?” Ariella asks, tension radiating off of her. It warms my heart to see her being protective. My girl needs good friends in her corner, and Ariella seems to be the best.
“She doesn’t have anything to apologize for. The last time we spoke was this morning. I can show you the text messages.” I hold out my phone for her to look. I don’t have anything to hide.
