43. Greedy
Chapter 43
Greedy
A soothing blanket of calm covers us now that we’re all together and on the same page. The four of us lounge around the room, content to take turns lying next to Hunter as we wait for her to wake up.
Okay, content may be a generous description. Spence and Levi are louder than they’ve ever been, as if they can’t help but try to speed the process along. Sione and I share a different opinion. If her body needs rest, she should have it. If her brain needs a break, she should take that, too. The monitors tracking her vitals adequately assure me she’s okay. When she’s ready, she’ll wake up. Until then, we’re not going anywhere.
A few nurses have come in to check on her, but none have jostled her enough to wake her.
A soft knock on the door around midmorning has us all on alert, and when it swings open and four doctors sweep in for rounds, Kabir and I are on our feet.
More than one brow furrows when they catch sight of us.
“Hi. I’m Garrett, Dr. Ferguson’s son.”
Without suggesting we step out of the room, they introduce themselves. One of the doctors sidles up to the charting computer, logs in, asks me to confirm Hunter’s name and birthdate, then presents.
“Patient presents with multiple lacerations and bruises following a fall down a full flight of stairs. Collarbone and rib fractures are suspected but unconfirmed. The initial brain scan was clear, showing no signs of bleeding or swelling. Mild concussion expected, to be confirmed once the patient wakes up.
“There were no alcohol, drugs, or other foreign substances in her system in the initial blood work. She’s receiving six hundred milligrams of acetaminophen every six hours for pain.”
My chest tightens, stealing the air from my lungs. “That’s all you’re giving her?”
She fell down an entire set of stairs, she’s absolutely covered in injuries, and they’re giving her an over-the-counter pain reliever and nothing more?
“We can put orders in for more, but only once she wakes up and remains that way so we can complete the full assessment.”
Fuck this. What if she’s in so much pain she can’t wake up?
“Anyone with eyes can see she’s severely injured,” I snap.
Sione steps up behind me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“I agree. We can wake her now if—”
“ No ,” I bark.
Despite how badly I want to know the extent of her injuries, she needs to rest. To heal. Even if it prolongs our emotional suffering.
“Very well. We have questions for the patient about how she fell, as well. If she passed out or experienced a bout of low blood pressure—”
“We believe she tripped and fell down the stairs.” It’s a bald-faced lie, but it’s the best option to protect Hunter from any level of suspicion, should my dad actually file a missing person’s report for Magnolia.
“Right. Okay. There’s not much more we can do until she wakes up, then. She’ll be here for at least a few days so we can monitor her blood pressure and sugar levels. You lot can make sure she’s eating small meals throughout the day. An ultrasound tech should be in later, but the nurses haven’t reported any bleeding, so there’s minimal concern there.”
Sione’s grip on my shoulder squeezes like a vise.
“Ultrasound?” I ask. “For what?”
The presenting doctor stumbles, clearly concerned she shared something she shouldn’t have.
No one else attempts to intervene, so I repeat my question. “What’s the ultrasound for?”
I’ve never been more grateful to be the child of the chief physician at Lake Chapel General.
With a defeated sigh, she says, “According to her chart, the patient is pregnant.”
Breath catching, I whip around and focus on Spence.
His brow is furrowed, and he looks just as bewildered as I feel.
He clears his throat and straightens his cuffs. “Was that information previously entered into the patient’s chart?” His tone is cool and uncaring, his inflection at odds with the desperation plaguing me.
The doctor clicks around the screen, then shakes her head. “No. Blood work at admission shows the patient’s hCG was seventy-eight thousand milli-international units per milliliter. The test results are dated yesterday.” Her eyes widen with understanding, and she looks up from the computer. “This makes more sense now. That’s why they haven’t confirmed the broken ribs or collarbone. The MRI was strictly to check for brain swelling and injuries to her head. No X-rays were ordered because of the baby.”
Because of the baby.
Because of the baby.
The room spins and blood rushes in my ears. The doctors may continue to talk, I don’t know. I can’t hear a thing. As they exit, I force myself to breathe and turn to glance at each of the guys. Their expressions are just as shocked, dazed, and ecstatic as mine.
Hunter’s pregnant.