Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Rory
“What sort of situation?” Sonya remained unflappable as she answered my summons.
“I’ll be okay,” Marshall mumbled next to me, head falling back against the elevator wall.
“The Mount Hope Fire Department is en route along with an ambulance,” Sonya reported. “Hang in there.”
“I don’t need an ambulance.” Marshall firmed his voice like someone with a lot of experience with pretending to be okay, but his chalky pallor said otherwise.
“Yeah, you do.” I could be equally stern.
“I’m patching you over to 911 dispatch for more instructions on how you can help your friend,” Sonya said. Friend was likely pushing it as I doubted Marshall would claim me as a friend. Before I could check Marshall’s reaction, the line crackled again with a new voice, this one male and southern.
“911 here. This is Troy. Do you have any medications or rescue glucose with you, sir?”
“No. I was headed out to lunch.” Voice sounding defeated, Marshall shut his eyes.
“And already hungry and not thinking right. God, I was stupid. And now I can’t even access the app on my phone to see what my continuous monitor says my levels are at.
Something’s clearly up with the monitor, the pump, or both.
I was too distracted by court this morning to notice. ”
“Hey now, no beating yourself up.” I nudged him with my shoulder.
“Do either of you have any food with you?” Troy asked.
“I do.” No way was I withholding that information with Marshall’s life on the line. “I brought my lunch.”
“But you said…” Marshall trailed off as I fished my small lunch container out of my bag.
“I lied. I’m sorry. I just really wanted to have lunch with you. But I’ve got an almond butter sandwich with some jam. My dad makes the bread and the jam… Sorry. I’m rambling again.”
“You’re okay. Marshall, can you eat almonds?” Troy asked Marshall.
“Yeah.” Marshall accepted the half a sandwich I’d unwrapped for him.
“Try eating that then,” Troy urged. “The crew should be to you shortly. I’ll stay on the line as well.”
“Thank you for the sandwich,” Marshall said as he took delicate bites. “Your dad is a good cook.”
“He is. He was a stay-at-home dad for all of us kids after we were adopted, and even now that I have my own apartment, he keeps me in bread and jam.”
“My head might be foggy, but I don’t understand why you lied.” Marshall frowned around his next bite.
“I like you,” I said softly.
“You don’t know me.” He made a throat-clearing noise, so I fetched my water bottle from my bag and offered it to him.
“I’d like to,” I countered. “And I know enough. You’re dedicated to your job. You come in early and stay late, and everyone says you go above and beyond. You’re thoughtful with good ideas. When you talk, people listen. The fact that we both work here and love our jobs points to similar values.”
“The fact that we work together points to potential headaches and heartbreaks.” Marshall scowled, apparently unmoved by my list of compliments. “I don’t date coworkers.”
“How about friends?” I’d been prepared for his rejection, but I had a backup plan of letting him get to know me more, maybe acquire a taste for short, ginger, and stocky. “We could go to the event as friends.”
“Rory…” Marshall groaned, undoubtedly seeing right through my paper-thin plan. “I dated someone in law school.”
“I might have heard about that.” My tone turned cagey. “But just because one dating experience went bad doesn’t mean they all will. I’m twenty-eight. I’ve had my share of dating fails.”
And then some, but he didn’t need the lengthy list of all my disastrous attempts at finding Mr. Right.
“My last fail is how I ended up in the family law clinic.” Marshall’s voice was decidedly stronger now that he’d eaten most of my sandwich.
“I was supposed to work with Hayden in the small business clinic, but the breakup was a bit…dramatic. And I ended up needing a different clinic at the last minute.”
“Sounds to me like the wrong guy led to the right situation for you. You said yourself that you’re passionate about this work. That’s not going to change.”
“No.” Marshall took another sip of my water bottle. “But it would be highly awkward if we dated and worked together.”
The regret in his tone gave me renewed hope, so I grinned. “That’s not the same as you saying you’re not interested.”
“Rory.” His energetic groan said the sandwich was working. “You know you’re cute, friendly, and funny. I could go on, but I’d have to be a turnip to be uninterested.
“Oh, please do go on.” I was positively beaming at this point. “Not everyone would agree. I get friend-zoned a lot. My game on the apps is shit, and my game in person at bars or clubs is even worse.”
“Then stop playing games.” He rolled his eyes like it was that easy to find someone to get serious with.
“I’m trying.” I gave him the most pointed of looks, holding his gaze until he let out a loud huff.
“What if we date and it goes badly?”
“What if it goes well?” I countered with every ounce of optimism I possessed. “What if this is the last first date either of us goes on?”
I ended on a passionate note right in time for a knock to sound above us, seconds before a hatch in the elevator ceiling opened.
“Coming in.” An older medic, maybe in his mid-forties, lowered himself into the elevator on a harness attached to climbing ropes with a medical bag on his back. “Hi. I’m Eric, and I’m a paramedic. Which of you has diabetes?”
“Me.” Marshall held up his phone. “Usually, I stay stable with my continuous monitor and insulin pump, but I can’t get a reading on the app, and something’s felt off all day.
I thought it was simply nerves for a court appearance, but now I’m wondering if my meds are working. Sandwich helped though.”
“Excellent.” Eric was already busy checking Marshall’s vital signs, like oxygen and blood pressure, working quickly with efficient movements. “The firefighters are working on coasting the elevator to the next floor. If they can’t, we’ll take you both out through the hatch.”
I frowned up at the ceiling. Unlike Eric and Marshall, I was the opposite of lean and lanky. “I won’t fit. But you can take Marshall now. I’ll wait.”
“You will not.” Marshall made an indignant noise. “Besides, I’m fine now.”
“Actually, I’m not the happiest with your blood sugar reading.” Eric looked up from the small handheld monitor he’d used after pricking Marshall’s finger. “What have you eaten today besides the sandwich?”
“I was in a hurry. Coffee. Toast with peanut butter? I think. I remember making it, at least.”
“What if you forgot to eat it?” I suggested, already prepared to renew my offer to stay behind so Eric could rescue Marshall. However, before either could reply, the elevator gave a massive jolt. “We’re moving!”
The elevator jerked again, pushing us against the wall before the doors were pried open by two firefighters.
“Excellent work, Sean.” Eric nodded at the older of the two firefighters. “I knew your crew would come through.”
“Never in doubt.” The younger firefighter had an appealing, cocky grin.
“I’d like to bring you in for further monitoring,” Eric said as he helped Marshall up and out of the elevator, guiding him to a waiting gurney. Tennessee’s fiancé, Tate, an EMT, stepped to Marshall’s other side, urging him to sit.
“That’s a good idea, Marshall.” I used an encouraging tone. As much as I wanted to continue our conversation, I wanted him taken care of more. “You should listen to Eric.”
“Hey, Rory.” Tate nodded at me. “You’re welcome to ride with your friend or meet us there.”
“If he wants.” I turned back to Marshall, who had finally taken a seat on the gurney. He still looked far too pale and sweaty for my liking. “I’ll wait for you, Marshall.”
I meant the words on multiple levels. I’d wait here if that was what he wanted or wait at the ER. And I could wait for him to decide whether or not to take a risk on dating. After all, I’d already waited all these many months. Marshall was well worth my patience.