Chapter 10 Grumpy Fucker
Duncan
Sleepless nights were a thing of the past since Sloane came back into my life.
Nightmares of the crash didn’t control my dreams when she was sleeping peacefully at my side.
Yet, there I was, awake, at o’ dark thirty and not by choice.
Something had woken me up. Opening my eyes, I let them adjust to the darkness while I listened to the sounds around me.
Was it one of the kids? Were they up? Then I heard it. A whimper.
“Dammit, Ralph,” I muttered under my breath.
I’d caved, letting the pup sleep with us for the last couple of nights since the kids’ party, but I was done. We’d bought a ridiculously large dog bed for a reason, not so it could sit empty on our bedroom floor. It was time for him to learn his place.
Tossing off the covers, I sat up, expecting to find him cowering at the foot of the bed, only that’s not where he was.
Sometime in the night, Sloane had rolled away from me.
She was on her back with Ralph on her other side, his big head propped on her thigh.
Rolling my eyes, I moved to get up when her body shook and he whimpered again.
It only took a second for me to realize he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, he was picking up on her distress.
Given our recent problems between her mother and our past, I should’ve known our real-life trauma would’ve followed her into sleep.
Reaching for her arm, I kept a bit of distance in case she woke up swinging.
I’d done the same on more than one occasion, grateful no one was there to witness my blunder.
Only instead of encountering sweat-soaked skin from a nightmare, heat radiated from her body like an inferno.
Reaching over, I flipped on the bedside lamp, the sudden brightness sending black spots across my vision.
Blinking a few times, they cleared, letting me see her face clearly.
Sloane’s cheeks were flushed cherry red against her paler-than-usual complexion.
I laid my hand across her forehead, not surprised at what I felt. She was burning up.
“Shit.” No longer caring if I got punched, I gently shook her shoulders. “Sunshine, wake up.”
She let out a pain-filled groan, but didn’t move a muscle.
Bolting out of bed, I ran to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found the thermometer.
Next, I ran a washcloth under cold water in the sink, wringing out the excess, then returned to her side where Ralph continued his watch.
“Good job, boy”––I nudged the pup––“but you gotta get out of my way.”
He moved when I sat on the edge of the bed, plopping down on the floor at my feet.
Swiping the thermometer across her forehead, the indicator flashed one-oh-three-point-two.
She wasn’t just hot, she was boiling. I tried to wake her up again.
Her eyes fluttered open, but her brilliant blues were unfocused and glazed over.
“Hey, Sunshine.”
“Don’t feel good,” she croaked, her eyelids drooping.
“I know, but I need you to stay awake for me, baby.”
“Mkay.”
I was out of my league. Basic first aid was the extent of my medical training, but I knew a fever that high wasn’t good. Laying the cool cloth against her heated skin, I stood, grabbing my phone and dialing the number by heart.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Waverly answered on the second ring.
“Sloane’s got a fever. I need to take her to the hospital.”
“How high?”
“A hundred and three..”
“Shit. We’re on the way.”
“What’s going on?” I heard Finn ask in the background.
“Sloane’s sick,” Waverly answered him, then said to me, “See if you can get her to take some Tylenol and try getting her in a cool shower. It’ll help bring the fever down.”
“I’ll try. Just hurry.”
Somehow, I managed to get us both into and out of the shower without slipping or accidentally dropping her, got a dose of fever reducer down her throat, and dressed her in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt.
By the time Finn and Waverly arrived fifteen minutes later, I was practically climbing the walls.
The fact she was still pretty out of it made me twitchy and irritable, to the point where my best friend called me out on my behavior, recognizing it for what it was.
Absolute fear.
I’d lost her once, I couldn’t lose her again. I wouldn’t survive. Acting like an overbearing bastard was my way of dealing with it. Was I being ridiculous? Hell yes. Problem was, I didn’t give a fuck. Until she was better, everyone would have to stay the hell away from me or risk my wrath.
When Waverly went upstairs to peek in on the twins, I wrapped a blanket around a shivering Sloane and carried her to my government-issued SUV. Finn walked ahead of us, opening the passenger’s side door.
“Take care of my sister. We’ve got the kids.”
“Thanks. I’ll text with updates as soon as I know anything.”
The short drive to the hospital did nothing to calm my nerves.
If anything, I was strung tight. The security guard manning the doors jumped into action when I slammed on the brakes in front of the emergency room entrance, although it may have had something to do with the flashing lights on top of the SUV.
Sure, activating the lights and sirens were frowned upon for personal use.
It wasn’t my fault the FBI’s definition of an emergency wasn’t very specific.
Two hospital employees––a man and a woman––ran out the door, meeting me at the passenger’s side with a gurney. They were most likely expecting to see massive amounts of blood when I ripped open the door, not my semi-conscious girlfriend.
“What do you have, Officer?” the woman asked.
“Special Agent, not Officer, and this is my wife.” Only a patient’s family was allowed in the room with them. Telling the white lie was a better option than being arrested because that was the only way I’d be leaving her side. “Please help her. She’s got a high fever.”
I released her seat belt, lifted her out of the vehicle, then laid her gently onto the bed on wheels. We were on the move instantly. When we passed the guard, he stopped me briefly to get my keys, assuring me he’d move the car to the lot.
“What’s her name?” she asked, pulling a set of curtains back to reveal a medium-sized exam room. The man––who’d steered the gurney, but had yet to speak––grabbed a blood pressure cuff and put it on her arm.
“Sloane.”
The next few minutes were chaotic as several other scrub-wearing people entered the room.
They each seemed to have a different task.
One started an IV and drew blood while another listened to her heart and lungs.
I may have growled when her sweatshirt was cut straight up the middle, leaving her naked from the waist up.
She was only uncovered briefly while a nurse attached several white stickers to her chest, which I recognized as electrodes for a heart monitor.
As soon as she was connected to the machine, the same nurse placed a hospital gown over the top of her.
I was leaning against the wall, trying to stay out of the way, yet refusing to be far from her, when an older man strolled in.
He walked over to Sloane, setting a tablet on the bed at her feet.
He pulled a stethoscope from around his neck, put the black eartips inside his ears, and listened to her chest for what seemed like hours.
Eventually, he put the stethoscope back where it came from, then turned to me.
“I’m Dr. Adams.” He stuck out his hand. I took it, returning his greeting.
“Special Agent Duncan Palmer. This is my wife, Sloane. What’s wrong with her?”
“From my initial exam, she appears rather dehydrated. We’ll know more once the blood work comes back.”
“She had a pretty bad headache the other night. Could it be linked?”
“Headaches are a symptom of dehydration, yes. We’ll start her on some intravenous fluids and medications to get her fever under control.”
Dammit, I should’ve realized something was wrong then. With all the stress she’d been under, plus the preparation for the kids’ party, she’d completely neglected herself. That shit ended immediately.
“When will I be able to take her home? She’s going to want to get back to our twins when she wakes up.”
“Let's wait for the blood results, but I’d say if she’s doing better in a few hours, she should be fine for discharge.”
“Appreciate it.”
“If you’d like, I can show you where the waiting room is. You might be more comfortable there while they’re getting her settled.”
“I’m not leaving her side.”
“Very well. I’ll let you know once I’ve confirmed her diagnosis.”
He typed something into the tablet he carried before leaving without another word.
I remained in the same place until only one nurse was left in the room, Callie, the one who’d met us at the SUV.
She was kind, yet tough, like the majority of the women I knew.
She dimmed the lights, pulled a chair over next to the gurney, then stared me down until I sat in it.
“The call button is on the table. Press it when she wakes up. Can I bring you anything to drink? Coffee? Water?”
Before I could answer, a familiar voice sounded from the doorway.
“I brought him a coffee. Trust me, D. You don’t want to drink the swill they try to pass off as coffee here. It’s disgusting.”
“Shayne.” I dropped my head to my shoulders. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Rude much?” She entered the room without permission, holding two orange-and-white paper cups. “Waverly was right. You’re being a grumpy fucker. Maybe I’ll give your coffee away since you don’t seem to be appreciative of my kindness.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Shayne can giveth, and Shayne can taketh away.”
“Why are you talking about yourself in the third person?”
“Because I can.” She stuck out her tongue. “Are you done being a dick?”
“Depends. What’s in my cup?”
“Americano with a splash of half-and-half. Just the way you like it.”
“Fine. You can stay.”