Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
GABE
Ifrantically searched the trailer for Jasmine’s phone. It wasn’t in the bathroom like she thought, but rather next to the coffee pot where she’d hurriedly filled her cup. I grabbed her bag of diabetic supplies just in case and stashed her phone in my pocket before hurrying out the door.
I heard her name being called as I approached the arena.
When I drew closer, her phone buzzed, finally picking up the signal, and I pulled it from my pocket.
My stomach sank, and panic surged through my veins at the low blood sugar alert.
The number that flashed on the screen put her in the danger zone.
Before I could call out to her to stop her, she took off.
I cursed and ran forward, watching as her body swayed as she rounded the first barrel.
My heart dropped when she nearly slipped from the saddle.
On instinct, my feet carried me to the closest horse.
Something in my gut told me I needed to get to her.
“I need to borrow your horse. It’s an emergency,” I said to its owner, one of Jasmine’s competitors.
Whatever she saw in my expression made her hand over the reins without hesitation.
I hopped in the saddle, mounting the horse quicker than I ever had before, and raced into the arena.
There were shouts of outrage and confusion, but I ignored them.
She was almost to the third barrel when her eyes fluttered closed and her body slumped.
Juniper felt the change. Her gait slowed, and when she saw me racing toward her, she changed course.
Instead of looping around the final barrel, she galloped toward me, clearly sensing how dire the situation was.
Jasmine’s body tipped over, and my entire world tilted on its axis.
“Come on,” I grunted, urging the horse forward.
I got to Jasmine just as she began to fall.
Reaching for her, I managed to catch her around the waist and grabbed ahold of her belt, tugging her toward me.
Someone else rode up beside me and dismounted their horse.
A second rider did the same, and several people ran out to help.
“We’ve got her,” one of the barrel racers said, her husband flanking her. I lowered Jasmine into their arms and quickly dismounted. They laid Jasmine onto the ground, and I dropped to my knees next to her, cradling her head in my lap.
“We need an ambulance! She’s a diabetic,” I called out frantically.
A flurry of activity swelled around me. “Come on, baby, wake up,” I pleaded, brushing the hair from her face.
Pressing my fingers to the side of her neck, I felt for a pulse.
Her heart was still beating, but it was too fast. Her chest rose and fell, but her breaths were too shallow.
“Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “You have to wake up. I didn’t get a chance to tell you I love you. I need to tell you.” I rocked back and forth with her in my arms, silently praying for her to be okay. I held tight to her, pressing my lips to her forehead. It was cool and clammy.
“The paramedics are here,” someone said, and a man and woman in navy uniforms kneeled in the dirt on her other side.
“We’ll take it from here,” the woman said, placing an AED beside her.
I shook my head. “It’s not her heart. Her sugar is low.” I pulled her phone from my pocket and showed them the alert. Worry creased her brow, but she nodded in understanding.
“We’ll have to give her an injection,” the other EMT said, opening his medical bag. He put on his gloves and prepared the injection while his partner began to cut a slit up Jasmine’s jeans.
“What are you doing?” I growled.
“The shot has to go in her thigh. It’s the fastest way to get the glucose into her system,” the man with the syringe explained before cleaning her skin with alcohol and plunging the needle into her leg.
I flinched and held her tighter, whispering soothing words into her hair despite her being unconscious.
“We need to grab the gurney and get her loaded up,” he said, standing.
“That will take too long,” I said and slid one arm beneath her shoulders and the other under her knees.
“Sir, you can’t—” the paramedic began, but I ignored him and lifted her into my arms. I stood and headed toward the exit.
The paramedics scrambled to gather their supplies and catch up to me.
They hurried on ahead, grabbing the gurney and rushing to meet me.
I gently laid Jasmine on it, and they secured the straps.
I followed them to the ambulance, and my gut twisted with anxiety as they loaded her up.
“Are you family?” the paramedic who’d given her the injection asked as I prepared to climb in after her.
I swallowed hard, unsure how to answer. “I-I’m her boyfriend.” That word seemed vastly inadequate, but it was all I had.
He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Then you’ll have to meet us at the hospital.”
“No,” I said, my chest tightening with anxiety. I couldn’t let her out of my sight. “I know her medical history. I’m the only person here with her. They’re going to need that information when she gets there. She doesn’t even have her ID on her.”
He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Give us her name and date of birth, and the ER staff will get the rest of her info when you get there.” I gritted my teeth together and reluctantly agreed.
I watched helplessly as they shut the doors and drove off with the love of my life.
“When will she wake up?” I asked the doctor, clutching my cowboy hat to my chest to keep from wringing my hands together.
They were still shaking with the shock of seeing Jasmine lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and machines.
My knees had nearly buckled when the nurse let me into her room.
The adrenaline from racing here at breakneck speed had flooded my system, and seeing all those wires sprouting from her shirt and IV fluids being pumped into her veins had only amplified my terror.
I’d barely held it together as I recounted the events leading up to her arrival at the ER and answered all their questions.
“It should be any minute now. We’re giving her IV fluids with dextrose to stabilize her blood sugar levels, and she’s nearly back in normal range,” the doctor replied, offering a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you, Doctor.” She left me with instructions to call if Jasmine woke up before the nurse returned, but assured me they would be in to check on her often. They were monitoring her closely and would need to check her blood sugar at frequent intervals.
The doctor stepped out, and I scrubbed a hand over my face.
Turning to face Jasmine, my chest constricted and tears welled in my eyes as guilt gnawed at my stomach.
It was eating me up inside. I couldn’t believe I’d left her.
She’d needed me, and I hadn’t been there.
I’d thought I was doing the right thing.
We had no other way to monitor her glucose, and we needed to know what her levels were.
I wished I had insisted on her coming with me.
She could've asked to push back her run. They would’ve understood.
At least I hoped they would have. If not, her missing her race would’ve been better than this.
Then again, she could’ve passed out on the way to the trailer from exerting herself and using up whatever glucose stores were left in her body. At least at the arena, there’d been people there to help.
My phone buzzed from my pocket, drawing me out of my reverie. I pulled it out, noticing instantly it was Jasmine’s phone, not mine since hers was larger. My blood ran cold when I saw “Pops” flash across the screen.
Shit. I hadn’t even thought about calling her family.
I’d been in too much of a hurry to get here.
It had thankfully only been a fifteen minute drive from the arena, but I’d used every last second to pray to any deity that would listen to keep Jasmine safe, to bring her back to me.
I couldn’t answer her phone. It would seem suspicious.
Plus, I needed a minute to think about how I would break the news to them that Jasmine was in the hospital.
He was probably just calling to see how her race went and would be blindsided.
I let the call go to voicemail and stuffed her phone back in my pocket. Pulling out my phone, I contemplated calling him, trying to decide how I would break the news to them. My finger hovered above his name in my contacts, but a rustling sound drew my attention toward the hospital bed.
Jasmine shifted restlessly, her brow furrowing as she let out a moan. I rushed to her bedside and picked up the hand without the IV in it, cradling it as I watched on hopefully.
“Jasmine,” I croaked out. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me. I need to see those pretty eyes.”
She moaned again and turned toward the sound of my voice. “Gabe.” The word came out low and scratchy, but it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard.
“I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” I assured her. A moment later, her eyes fluttered open, and I covered my mouth to stifle a relieved sob. Swallowing down the emotion, I smoothed a hand over her disheveled hair. “Hey,” I cooed, offering her a watery smile.
She blinked up at me confused, then glanced around the room. “You’re in the hospital,” I provided, hoping if she knew where she was, she wouldn’t be as scared.
“Ugh,” she groaned and dropped her head on her pillow.
“You passed out during your race and fell off your horse.” Her head shot up off her pillow, and she began patting herself, searching for injuries. “You’re okay. You didn’t get hurt.” Her eyes flashed to me and narrowed as though searching her memory.
“Y-you rode in on a Pegasus and saved me,” she claimed, and some of the tension eased from my chest. I chuckled and kissed the back of her hand. The confused crease between her brows was adorable.
“It was Kelsie’s white gelding.” I explained how I’d noticed she was struggling and knew she was too stubborn to stop the race, so I hopped on the closest horse and rushed out there.
“Thank you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I really thought I could push through it. I thought I had time.” Her voice cracked, and I pulled her into my arms.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, and that’s all that matters.
” I held her and rubbed soothing circles over her back.
When she’d calmed down, I called for the nurse to let her know Jasmine was awake.
She and the doctor came in and assessed her, shining a light in her eyes and asking her lots of questions to make sure she wasn’t confused or disoriented.
“I’d like to keep you a little bit longer and make sure your blood sugar remains stable, but you should be able to leave this afternoon,” the doctor announced, and Jasmine nodded her agreement.
The nurse pricked Jasmine's finger to test her blood and announced the results with a pleased grin.
She and the doctor left, and Jasmine breathed a sigh of relief.
“We need to call your parents,” I announced, and her calm evaporated.
“Do we have to?” she groaned.
“Yes,” I insisted. “Your dad tried to call you once already. They need to know you’re in the hospital.”
“Fine,” she agreed begrudgingly.
I tapped on his contact and placed the call on speakerphone. Woody picked up on the third ring.
“Hey,” he greeted enthusiastically. “How’s my girl? Did she win her race?” I winced, and Jasmine’s eyes filled with regret.
“Not exactly,” I answered hesitantly. “Jasmine is fine, but there was an … incident.”
“What happened?” he asked, his voice turning serious. A string of curses left his lips as I relayed the morning’s events.
“Spunk, are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m fine, Pops. I didn’t get hurt. I’m just a little weak.”
“I’m coming down there,” he announced, and we heard rustling on the other end of the line.
“No,” Jasmine barked, a little frantic. She softened her tone before continuing. “There’s no need. They’re going to release me soon. We’ll be home this evening.”
“I don’t like this,” Woody grumbled. “Your mother and I should be there.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him. “Gabe’s here. He’s taking excellent care of me,” she said, her features softening. He hesitated a moment, then let out a resigned sigh.
“Alright,” he acquiesced. “Gabe, thank you for taking care of my baby girl and keeping her safe.” A stab of guilt pierced through the armor I’d erected around my heart when I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and opened my heart to his daughter.
I had to swallow down the bile rising in my throat before I could respond.
“Of course. I’ll always protect her,” I promised, hoping he’d realize just how true that was when we finally told him about us.