Chapter Twenty Two
Taylor
“You haven’t stopped smiling for over a week now.” I turn to face Shannon. She is leaning in my doorway eyeing me. “You either won the lottery or you’re getting laid.”
“Shannon,” my mouth drops open. “You can’t say that.”
“I just did, and you confirmed. Who is the lucky guy?”
I haven’t thought about how I’m going to explain Noah to people.
Dana knows, and she was shocked as hell when I told her what happened a couple of nights ago.
She wants to meet him properly now and denied having an ulterior motive to meet Stryker.
Noah hasn’t introduced me to everyone yet but I’ve met Nashville a couple of times now.
“He is a friend of a patient,” I tell her sheepishly.
“Which patient?” her smile fades.
“Jesse Cartwright.”
“Well, if he looks anything like him,” she sighs and straightens up. “It’s my duty as your manager and administrator for this clinic that under no circumstances should you have any kind of relationship with a patient.”
“I think Noah would agree.”
She snorts a laugh. “Just keep it professional here. Or we can hand him off to Caitlyn.”
“No don’t worry, I know how to uphold my oath, Shannon. I barely see him.”
That’s true enough, when Noah is at home it gives Jesse time to himself, to get back to work. When I do see him, I try not to think of him as a patient.
“He isn’t due for a follow up for four months.”
She nods, then comes in and closes the door, sitting down opposite me. I’m not sure what this is about until she gets the face she used to make when dad first got ill.
“How are you doing?” she asks. “With everything.”
“I’m good Shannon. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not going to lie and say I’ve moved on and don’t think about him. I still don’t go a day without thinking of him.”
“This guy is making it less difficult. Does he know?”
“Yeah, we’ve talked about it. Shannon, trust me, I’m fine.”
“I’m glad, honey. It’s nice to see the old you back.”
Her words stay on my mind as the day goes on. Noah isn’t making me forget, he’s making me cope with it better. Seeing him with Oscar makes me happy. He still thinks he isn’t being the best father he can, but he doesn’t see what I do.
My mind takes a sharp left turn to the other night.
It didn’t matter to me that he was trying to show the different side of him.
As far as I am concerned Noah doesn’t have two sides, there is no good and bad, he’s just him.
Maybe that makes me a fool or people will think I’m blind to what he does but the part of him that cares for Oscar, for me, hasn’t dulled.
After my shift Noah texts when I get in the car.
Noah:
Want to come over tonight?
Taylor:
Over what?
Noah:
You’re a dirty girl
Taylor:
You bring it out in me. And yes. I’ll go straight there if that is okay?
Noah:
I’ll let Jesse know
Taylor:
Did you talk to him?
Noah:
Don’t worry about him Cherry. He likes you, and he loves me
Taylor:
I’m worried he doesn’t like us together
Noah:
He’s coming around. GTG
There won’t be any more texts. The whole GTG is him signing off.
Jesse’s car is outside when I arrive, and although Noah hasn’t come right out and said someone is watching the house, I see the same guy who has been there every time I come over.
Jesse opens the door and welcomes me inside. We’ve always had a good relationship before now so I hate that he is looking at me differently.
“I’ve made dinner,” he says. “Lasagna.”
“Smells great.”
“It’s Oscar’s favorite.”
“Can I help?”
“Most of it’s done but you can help with getting us some bread.”
We work together in silence, the only noise is Oscar playing in the other room. He greeted me when I first came in but his little baby laptop has him fully occupied.
There is still no sign of Noah after we’ve eaten and Jesse tells me not to overthink it. Sometimes this happens, and he doesn’t get home when he says he is going to.
“I know you have your concerns about me and Noah,” I say, after I’ve cleaned up Oscar’s face and put him down. He runs over to get his puppy and starts pretending it’s real.
“You have to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“Thank you, and I do,” I lean forward on my stool. “You see the good in him too Jesse.”
“You really don’t know the bad. How he gets sometimes.”
“I can handle it.”
He rubs his forehead and sighs. His skin looks a little clammy.
“Have you had your insulin today?”
“Of course, you know I take it properly, Taylor.”
“Jesse, you’re sweating.”
“Don’t be a nurse with me,” he gives me a smirk.
“Where is your glucometer? Are you having any abdominal pain, or feeling nausea?”
“Taylor, I’m fine. I’ll grab some juice.”
“I’ll get it, you get your kit.”
Noah keeps a steady supply of the juice Jesse needs.
When I come back after grabbing the juice, he wobbles a little almost spilling the juice.
Jesus, I help him onto a stool and hold up the glass.
I don’t like his color and he’s getting more disoriented.
With long practiced efficiency, I take out the glucometer, set it up with a test strip and quickly wash my hands, checking in on Oscar. No child needs to see this.
“He’s used to it,” Jesse says.
He closes his eyes as he swallows some juice and stays that way. He doesn’t even flinch when I gently prick the side of his fingertip until a small bead of blood comes out then move it onto the test strip. I use an alcohol wipe to clean his hand as the glucometer starts to work.
I keep an eye on him then glance back at the glucometer. “Shit.”
“What?”
“It’s at sixty-four.” I stare at the screen. This can’t be right. His blood sugar is way below seventy and he could go into hypoglycemic shock if we don’t correct this. “You definitely took the insulin?”
He nods and points to the kit, he has always been good at recording his levels and intake. The little book has it written down, and he’s taken the correct dosage. This can’t be right.
I tell him to drink more juice then pick up the pen which administers his insulin. It looks different to the ones we issue at the clinic.
Jesse has his medication sent to him by us, loaded up with the correct dosage. I don’t recognize this brand at all. The pen seems older. My mind scrambles to think of who I dispensed prescriptions for in the last couple of weeks. I don’t think I did any for Jesse because he didn't need them yet.
“Where did you get this insulin?” I ask. He leans forward on the counter, sweating even more. I’m on the verge of going into panic mode and getting him to the hospital.
“It came yesterday.”
“Yesterday? Jesse, I didn’t issue this. Where is the pack you get from the clinic?”
He’s not answering. There is no time to do another test and I don't need to. There is no way of knowing how much insulin he's injected without doing proper tests, but if what I suspect is right, he's taken way more than he should have. He needs medical intervention, right now.
Jesse has a car seat for Oscar. I’m too worried to wait for an ambulance. As I move around the counter, I stop in my tracks.
There is a man in the back yard. He’s dressed all in black and when he turns, he is wearing a mask. And he has a gun in his hand.
“Jesus,” I almost knock everything off the counter.
Jesse looks up and sees the man, he tries to get up. “Oscar,” he groans.
I’m caught between the two of them but the man is coming up to the window and there is another one behind him.
“Get Oscar, we have to get to the basement,” Jesse stumbles off the chair, holding the counter to keep himself upright. “Go, Taylor. I am okay.”
I run across the room as the man starts banging on the door. I can’t see him but he is hitting it with some force.
“Hey buddy, we’re gonna go downstairs, get Oscar Two okay?” I smile, trying not to show the terror ripping through me.
Thank God he does as he’s told. I scoop him up and put a hand over the side of his face to stop him looking at the back door as the man slams against it again. Then another sound come from the front.
Oscar pouts out his lips and looks at me. “Bang.”
“Yeah bang. Jesse,” I grab his arm to keep him upright.
“Huh,” he groans.
“Do you remember how much insulin was in the pen?”
He is really disorientated now and doesn't answer, he lowers his arm and almost drops his phone. I didn’t realize he was using it till I see Noah’s name on the screen. Jesse keeps mumbling about the basement, but I don’t know where that is. I can’t trust him to hold Oscar in the state he is in.
We should be getting out of here but I run to the far side of the kitchen.
A bang comes from the front of the house, different to the one from before. My heart practically stops. It was a gunshot.
Dragging a drawer open, I find the glucose tablets and pull them out, spilling other stuff all over the floor.
Oscar starts to cry but I don’t have time to console him, dragging open a cupboard and pulling out a bag of chips.
I hurry back to Jesse and hook my arm under his.
He leads us to a door I’ve never paid attention to before and we go through to a set of stairs.
“Please don’t fall,” I whisper.
“I’ll try,” Jesse says, as Noah picks up the call.
“Hey what’s up. Why is Oscar crying? Jesse?”
There is a heavy duty bolt on the door which I slam across as a loud bang echoes out in the hallway. They’re in the house.
We stumble our way down and Jesse leans against the wall and starts sliding down it. My head swivels around as I try to figure out what we’ve come down here for.
Jesse raises the phone and I grab it, setting Oscar down trying to calm him. He is feeding off our fear.
“Noah.”
“Cherry, what the fuck is going on?”
“There are men here. I don’t know who they are.”
The other end of the line goes silent for a moment. “Where are you?”