Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Open up,” I say, holding it out.
He grumbles but does as he’s told, and a few seconds later, it beeps. I look at the screen and feel my heart drop.
“North, your temp is 104.” I check my watch and grimace. “And I gave you Tylenol just a few hours ago. We’re going to the emergency room.”
He shakes his head weakly. “No need. It’ll pass.”
“Don’t argue with me,” I snap as I rise from the floor. “You’re burning up, and you’re supposed to catch a flight later this morning. What’s your plan? Infect the entire team?”
“I’ll be fine,” he insists, trying to sit up. His body gives out halfway, and he collapses back onto the couch. His eyes are glazed as if he’s not all there and he looks like a strong wind would blow him over. I don’t know how he got so bad so fast. “Just need to sleep.”
“Yeah, that’s convincing.” I grab his shoes and crouch next to him. “Come on. We’re going.”
I hastily dress but getting him to the truck is an ordeal. He puts most of his weight on me as we shuffle to the passenger side, his arm draped over my shoulders. Once he’s settled, I circle around to the driver’s seat and climb in. That’s when I realize just how enormous this thing is.
“This stupid truck sits like twenty feet off the ground,” I grumble, adjusting the seat so I can reach the pedals.
“Careful,” he croaks, a hint of amusement in his tired voice. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
“Her feelings?” I glance at him, incredulous. “You named your truck?”
He manages a weak grin. “Guinevere.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re yanking my chain,” I chuckle, gripping the wheel. “I’ve never driven anything this big. What if I crash it?”
“You won’t crash it,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just take it slow. You’re good at following directions.”
I shoot him a look. “You’re lucky you’re dying right now, or I’d argue.”
He chuckles weakly, but it turns into a coughing fit that has me gripping the wheel tighter. I focus on the road, trying not to panic as I navigate the quiet streets. North murmurs occasional instructions, his voice growing fainter with each passing minute.
When we pull up to the emergency room, I kill the engine and rush to his side. He’s barely holding himself up as I help him out of the truck, his weight heavy against me. Inside, the receptionist eyes us with boredom until I see the recognition hit her as she takes in North.
“Mr. Paquette?” she asks, her voice a mix of surprise and concern. “You look… awful.”
“Yes,” I say briskly. “He’s running a high fever, terrible cough and needs to see someone now.”
She nods quickly, typing into her computer. “Let me just get some information and then he’ll get triaged.”
Within fifteen minutes we have him checked in and someone takes his vitals, then we’re in the waiting room, which is thankfully not that busy. I guide North to a small, two-person couch isolated from others and he slumps onto it beside me. His head drops to my shoulder, and I can feel the heat radiating off him even through my sweater.
“You’re so hot,” I whisper, brushing his damp hair back.
“So are you, baby,” he rasps, and I’m relieved he’s with it enough to joke. North shifts his big body and rests his head on my lap and without thought, my hand rubs his back. He stills and I watch his shallow breaths.
The waiting room is silent except for the faint murmur of whispers. I glance around and notice people staring, some with their phones out.
Of course. Everyone here knows who he is.
“Relax, superstar,” I murmur, running my fingers through his hair. “They’re just fans.”
He grunts softly, too drained to muster a real response.
When they finally call us back, I help North to his feet and into the exam room where I get him on the bed. The nurse takes his temperature a second time and shakes her head. “It’s at 104. You said you gave him Tylenol?”
I nod. “Maybe about three hours ago now.”
“We’ll run a rapid flu and COVID test,” she says, glancing at me. “You might want to wear a mask.”
“I’ve been vaccinated,” I say.
“So was I,” North whines. “Put on a damn mask, Farren.”
I concede and the nurse grabs me one, although whatever he has, I’ve been exposed to it. She swabs his nose and helps me cover him with blankets.
It feels like forever but finally a doctor comes in. He’s young with dark hair sticking up in all directions and thick glasses, reminding me of Harry Potter. He’s kind and charming in a goofy way. “The nurses are all aflutter that we have a professional hockey player in here.”
North smiles weakly. “That’s me.”
“Not feeling great, huh?” the doctor asks, moving to the side of the bed and putting his stethoscope in his ears. “Let me listen to you.”