7. Brooke
7
brOOKE
H eels were not made for keeping up with a gurney.
But, there’s no way I’m leaving Miles as he bumps across the pavement between two paramedics from the ambulance to the hospital.
“He said he was feeling fine,” I call as I follow, one hand on the cold side rail because I’m afraid if I put it on his shoulder, I’ll lose my grip.
“You said he had several drinks?” One paramedic, a tall woman with a level voice, asks.
“More than usual,” I admit.
The ambulance techs continue into the ER, and a nurse meets them there. She directs the gurney into a private room. I try not to think about the people in the waiting room who have to wait longer now that a basketball VIP is in the building.
“Wait here,” one says as I try to head inside the room too.
I pace the halls, getting in the way more than once. I’m trying to wrap my head around what happened, but it’s blurring together given the couple of drinks I had myself.
Miles was in a great mood when we went out, and he had every reason to be. Sure, there was some tension between him and the team this week, but nothing they couldn’t set aside for a night like this.
But something changed at the club.
My phone rings—Nova.
“Where are you?” she demands.
Forty minutes later, she arrives along with Clay and my brother.
The earlier excitement in my friend’s eyes has been replaced with worry.
I fill them in. “I don’t know what happened. He wasn’t acting like himself.”
Nova nods. Gold glitter has started to flake onto her cheeks. “The all-star game is a weird night. He’s been under a lot of pressure.”
I instantly reject her assumption, which probably shows on my face. I can hide what I’m thinking but not in front of my best friend, not after the night we’ve had.
The halls are lined with people in all sorts of dress. I suppose that’s a Vegas thing. A kid with blond hair walks by, and I track him with my gaze.
“Excuse me. Did you come in with Mr. Garrett?” a doctor asks, consulting his clipboard.
“We all did,” Jay says from across the room, but I’m there first.
“That’s right.”
His gaze flicks down my body, then intently zeroes in on my face. “We’re still waiting for labs to come back. You said you were drinking. Anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Did Mr. Garrett ingest any other substances today or this evening?”
I cut a look back at my brother and Clay, who look every bit as surprised as I feel. “No.”
The doctor studies me a moment longer as if I might change my mind but finally nods. “Do you know if he left any of his drinks unsupervised?”
“You think he was drugged.” My mind is spinning.
The doctor shakes his head. “Without labs, I can’t say for sure. But you can go in and see him. He’s conscious but not at full alertness.”
I don’t wait for him to tell me twice.
Miles is in the hospital bed, his feet sticking over the edge and his face unusually pale. I lean over the side, grabbing his hand in two of mine.
“Miles.”
His eyes crack when I say his name. “Hey, Princess,” he croaks. “What happened? I feel terrible.”
I absently stroke his palm with my thumb.
“You don’t remember?”
His head moves back and forth but barely, as if the effort costs him.
Did Mr. Garrett ingest any other substances?
I clear my throat. “You passed out. One moment you were talking to Hawkins, the next, you collapsed. The doctors are still running tests, but they’re wondering if it wasn’t only the alcohol.”
His eyes close, from fatigue or because he’s thinking it over. “Anyone notice?”
“Probably not,” I lie. “Everyone had their own thing going on.”
There was more than one phone out as the paramedics came in, but I don’t want him worrying about that right now.
“But,” I continue, “Jay’s outside. Clay too. They want to make sure you’re okay.”
Miles nods and clears his throat. “Fuck, I’m thirsty. Is there any?—”
“I’ll get you a drink. Don’t go anywhere.”
His hand grabs my arm, but his grip is weak. “If you’re going to take care of me, can you wait until I’m sure I’ll remember it?”
“Absolutely not,” I say, then brush my lips over his and straighten. I go to the nursing station outside the room. “Water?”
They go to fetch some.
“How is he?” Clay asks.
“What the hell happened?” Jay choruses.
I shake my head. “They think…” I swallow and look around to ensure no one can overhear. “They think he was drugged.”
“That he was drugged or that he took drugs?”
My brother speaks with a tired urgency I don’t recognize.
“The first. Obviously,” I say, though I can’t remember exactly what they said.
They exchange a look. “Let’s go in and see him.”
I watch them head in to see their friend and teammate before pressing a hand against my face.
Fuck.
I should have known something was wrong with him earlier.
Miles was having too much fun to realize. If only I’d noticed…
Being with him, I enjoyed not having to watch myself. Miles himself told me he likes me when I let my guard down.
But this was a reminder that even if Miles wasn’t going to judge me or hurt me, there were still forces out there in the world that could hurt us.
Nova approaches with her phone. “Harrison wants to know if Miles is okay.”
“Tell him…” I search my mind for an answer that will put his mind at ease and is more or less true. “It was probably too much to drink after a busy day.”
My friend types and hits Send. “Harrison says he’s sending a limo and booked a private suite for him to recover, plus medical staff to keep an eye on him for the next forty-eight hours.”
Gratitude fills me.
I accept the water from the nurse and run it back into Miles. He’s already sleeping, so I set it on the table next to him before returning to my friend to watch through the doorway.
Nova steps closer.
“I’m sorry.” Her whisper makes me hiccup a shaky breath.
“Thanks.” I lean my head on her shoulder.
I’m tough. Still, it’s one thing to deal with problems yourself and another to watch someone you care about go through them.
“Miles wouldn’t take drugs. Everyone knows that.” Nova’s voice has a strange lift to it, as though it’s a question and not a statement.
My chest tightens as staff and equipment continue to fly past us.
“Everyone knows it,” I echo.