13. Nadia
13
NADIA
I don’t end up getting my stomach pumped.
I throw up three times on the ride over, not that much of anything comes out, and by the time they check my blood levels, I’m already recovering.
They won’t let Max and Cam stay in my curtained space for more than a hug, but Dalton gets to remain. The IV fluids have an anti-nausea drug in them, and I start feeling better.
“Do you remember how much you drank?” Dalton asks.
This is embarrassing.
“I was in the middle of my third margarita. And I had two shots.”
“How fast?”
“Pretty fast.” I can’t look in his direction, instead focusing on the wavy pattern on the curtain.
“You didn’t strike me as the binge drinking type.”
“I’m not.”
“Hey.”
I turn to him.
“I’m not judging you. Just asking the questions that need to be asked if we’re going to be sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” I look away again.
“You seem better.”
This is the worst. I’m not like this. I was out of my element, and people kept handing me drinks.
Ugh.
The doctor who saw me first comes in. He knows Dalton. I can tell by the smirk on his face, but they don’t let on in front of me. “Your blood panel came back clear on Rohypnol, GHP, and Ketamine, which are the usual date-rape drugs. But your blood alcohol level was .2, which is high.”
“I thought dive bars would be skimpy on the alcohol,” I say.
“Not that one.” He leans forward and uses a penlight to look into my eyes again. “You still feeling nauseous?”
“No. Just tired.”
He lifts the IV bag, which is almost empty. “Good. We’ll get you out of here. Your discharge instructions are plenty of fluids and rest, and maybe no dive bars for a while.” His gaze flicks over to Dalton and his eyebrows lift.
“Got it.”
When he leaves, I turn to Dalton. “You know him, don’t you?”
“Not well. He’s an attending, but not my direct supervisor.”
The thought that I could get Dalton in trouble for being here with me sends a spike of anxiety through me. “Is it okay that you’re here? Max can take me home.”
Dalton doesn’t get a chance to answer, because a new nurse in pink scrubs comes in, cute and perky despite the hour. “I have discharge papers. Oh!” She spots Dalton. “You’re here!”
I look between them. They seem more familiar than him and the doctor.
“This is my roommate,” he says.
“Roommate, huh?” She passes a clipboard to me.
I don’t want to say anything. It’s bad enough that Dalton thinks I’m a lush, but now other people who know him will think it, too.
I scribble my name on the pages and thrust the clipboard back at her.
“I didn’t know you lived with someone,” the nurse says to Dalton. It’s like I’m not there. Something is happening here.
I watch Dalton to see how he’s managing this conversation, if this situation is affecting a burgeoning romance.
“We got a place about a month ago.”
She presses the clipboard to her chest. “Known each other long?”
“A while,” he says. “Is someone going to remove the IV? I don’t think I have clearance to do it off hours.”
She huffs. “I’ll send someone in.” She spins on her heels, her blond ponytail swinging.
Now it’s Dalton who stares at the curtains.
“Love interest?” I ask.
“No.”
“I think she’s interested. Or was.” I pick at my white tank. It’s tight and revealing all by itself. The red cardigan will have to be hosed down. I might toss it after this.
“Maybe.” He rubs his neck. He’s bound to be exhausted, coming off a long shift only to end up back here.
“I’m sorry if I screwed things up for you.”
That gets his attention. “With Sonya? No. Don’t worry about that. Or do you mean sleeping?”
“I mean all the things. I meant to call Camryn. I couldn’t stop puking long enough to look at my phone.”
“I’m glad you called.”
“Were you off shift?”
“I was home.”
The word seems to hang in the curtained space. I have a home with him. I’ve had roommates before, but this feels different. We collaborate on how we set it up. We make meals together.
We’re grownups, not college students.
Although maybe I acted like one tonight.
“Do you want me to talk to Sonya?” I say it with some trepidation. I don’t want to, but then I can’t have my awful night make things worse for him. “I can assure her I’m not anyone important to you.”
His face looks pained. “No, no. She’s just a nurse I know.” He waves it away.
My phone beeps. It’s a text from Max.
I read it quickly. “He needs to take Camryn home. He wants to know if my roommate, all caps, will get me to the apartment.” I let out a long gust of air. Of course they know now. “You told them?”
Dalton sighs. “Yeah, I’m afraid I let that cat out of the bag. I didn’t know you hadn’t said anything.”
“Probably a fair trade for my secret cat in the bag. I’ll have to deal with it later.” I text Max that I’m good and to go home, and set the phone down.
“My car’s illegally parked at Aces, but we can call for a ride home,” Dalton says.
“What did you do with your poor Jeep?”
“I may or may not have driven onto the sidewalk.”
“You’re going to get towed!”
“Possibly.”
I sit back against the pillow. He was worried. He cares about me. Still, something about Sonya niggles at me. She seemed to expect that he was single, and something about what she saw suggested that he wasn’t.
“I’m guessing no one knows you have a roommate, either? A female one?”
He rubs his neck again. “It hasn’t come up.”
A man in scrubs strolls in like it’s a house party, his shoulders rolling like he’s vibing to music only he can hear. “Dr. D, didn’t expect to see you here.”
Dalton smiles. “Nadia, this is Joaquin. Best IV guy in the ER. This is my roommate Nadia.”
“I’ve heard.” He expertly pulls the IV, adhesive and all, so quickly and painlessly that I don’t realize it’s gone until he’s taped a cotton ball on my arm. “Everyone thinks you have a secret piece, and that’s why you haven’t taken out anyone on the floor.”
My head whips to Dalton. “Secret piece?”
“I can’t help what they say,” Dalton says. “Let’s get you sitting up.” He presses into my back until I’m forward off the pillow. “How does that feel? No return of the nausea?”
I shake my head.
“Swing your legs around slowly. Let’s make sure you’re steady.”
“Looks like you’ve got this, Dr. D. When’s your next shift?”
“About twenty hours.”
“Get some shut-eye. I’ll see you on the flip side.” Joaquin rolls the IV out of the space.
My head is whirling with everything that’s happened, from the fighters, to the sickness, the ride with Dalton in the ambulance, and now, realizing he’s a hot commodity at work and he’s not taking anyone up on it.
“Socks on the floor,” he says. “Let’s give standing a go, then we’ll get your shoes back on.”
“I’m fine,” I say, but when I shift my weight off the bed, my legs feel like Jell-O. I clutch Dalton’s arms. “Or maybe not.”
“You need some food. Wait here. I’ll wheel you out.” He sets me back on the bed.
While he’s gone, I move the plastic bag with my dirty cardigan to my lap and set my tiny crossbody bag on top of it.
I’m going to need some food, some sleep, and a much clearer head to sort through all the fallout from this disaster of a night. My cousin knows about my roommate. My roommate had to save me.
And for some reason, everyone except the two of us seems to think there is something going on.
But as Dalton returns with a wheelchair and carefully lowers me into it, I start to think—maybe I called the right person after all.