Austin #2
“I promise not to make any loud noises until she’s better,” Rhys says, making me chuckle. We all know he’ll be right back to climbing the shower curtains when Paris is fully recovered…he wouldn’t be Rhys if he didn’t.
“Thanks, buddy,” I reply, putting my fist out for him to bump. He does, his expression brightening with a relieved smile now that I’ve eased his mind. Rowan looks a little more relaxed, too, sinking into the couch cushions as he returns his attention to the TV on the wall.
Minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door. I stand, smoothing out the fabric of my athletic pants before turning to the boys. “I’m going to show Stella where your mom’s room is so that she can check on her. I’ll be back in a few, alright?”
They nod, and I ruffle their hair, heading toward the door. My best friend steps inside, still dressed in Emmett’s jersey from earlier with a bright pink tote bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Hey,” she whispers, peeking into the living room, where Rowan’s and Rhys’ heads are visible over the back of the couch.
Their movie plays quietly, keeping their attention as I give her a lift of my chin and lead her up the stairs, filling her in so that I don’t disturb Paris when we enter her room.
“I texted her brother, and he said all the symptoms are definitely normal for her. I’ll stay here as long as I have to while she sleeps it off, but I just want to make sure that’s all she needs.”
Stella nods. “I think that’s a good idea. I’m just going to take some vitals and make sure she’s as alert as someone with a stress headache can be. If I see any red flags, we’ll get her to the hospital for further testing.”
I nod, my throat tightening at the thought of something more serious being wrong with her.
As it is, having a headache so debilitating that she can barely even talk is bad enough.
I’m comforted by Memphis confirming that her symptoms are the same ones she usually deals with, but there’s still a pit in my stomach as we pass through the doorway into her room.
She’s still out cold, an arm flung haphazardly over her eyes to block out the light.
I make a mental note to shut the curtains when we’re finished, hoping that she’ll be able to rest more comfortably in the dark.
Stella pads across the plush carpet and lowers her bag to the floor, crouching down. She pulls out a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff, cautiously sitting on the mattress so as not to disturb Paris. My sweet girl groans, her head lolling to the side as Stella lays a gentle hand on her forearm.
“Paris, it’s Stella. How are you?” I can’t stop my brows from pulling inward because, of course, she feels awful, my protective instinct kicking in even though I know she’s just trying to do her job.
Luckily, I have enough good sense to refrain from giving her my unwarranted and out-of-line reaction, biting my tongue as she tries again.
“Paris, can you open your eyes for me?” That does the trick, those beautiful brown eyes fluttering open slowly. She squints, grimacing as she takes in her surroundings.
“Stell,” she rasps, confused. “Ugh. What’s going on?” She relaxes back into the pillow, shielding her face once again.
“I think you may have gone a little too hard on the shopping this weekend. Is it okay if I check your vitals? I promise, I’ll be fast. Then, you can go right back to sleep.”
Paris shakes her head rapidly, sitting up. She whimpers, her palm shooting to her forehead the moment she’s completely upright. “I can’t sleep. The kids. I have to ch—”
“The kids are fine, Baby Girl,” I say, moving closer.
She lies back down at the sound of my voice, peeking up at me with one cracked lid.
“Lennon is still napping, and the boys are watching a movie. I’ve got everything under control, alright?
Just let Stella check you out, and we’ll figure out the rest after. ”
“Okay,” she sighs, satisfied with my reply.
She may think the discussion is ongoing, which is fine since it got her to agree, but there’s no way we’re figuring out a damn thing when we’re done here.
She’s resting until she feels better while I take care of the kids, and I’m not taking no for an answer.
Stella’s mouth tilts into a soft smile as she readies her stethoscope and places the chest piece over Paris’ heart.
I remain quiet while she listens, my teeth worrying my lower lip and searching her expression for signs that something bigger is wrong, but not finding any as she turns and picks up the blood pressure cuff.
Gently, carefully, she wraps the long strip of nylon around Paris’ upper arm, ensuring that it’s completely secure before pumping it up.
Again, she raises her stethoscope, listening intently as air slowly begins to leak from the cuff.
Several seconds go by, my heart feeling like it may burst from my chest and I’ll need medical assistance of my own, until a rush of air cuts through the quiet room, followed by the tearing of the Velcro as it’s removed and set aside.
Next, Stella reaches down and pulls a pink pulse oximeter from her tote before clipping it onto Paris’ pointer finger.
I watch without blinking until the number ninety-seven flashes on the screen, which I’m pretty sure is good.
But unfortunately, I’m still a ball of nerves as Stella continues her assessment.
Anxiety swirls in my gut, and I shift from one foot to the other when she places two fingertips over the pulse point on Paris’ wrist and looks down at her watch.
I swallow the giant lump in my throat, taking in quiet, shallow sips of oxygen so I don’t disturb what’s going on.
Fuck, I hate every bit of this—not knowing if she’s okay or not while Stella gets the information she needs.
After what feels like a lifetime, she tenderly places Paris’ hand across her stomach, her spine straightening as she sits up. My girl is either asleep again or too feeble to care, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as the quietest snores tumble from her lips.
“Her vitals are normal,” Stella says, removing the stethoscope from her ears and draping it around the back of her neck.
“Blood pressure is one-forty over seventy-nine. That’s slightly elevated, probably due to the pain and stress, but nothing to worry about right now.
Her heart rate is fine, as well. Just keep an eye on her, and wake her every now and then for water, so she doesn’t dehydrate. ”
Every muscle in my body relaxes, my shoulders lowering from where they were nearly pressed to my ears.
She places her belongings back into her tote while I close the curtains, and I thank her profusely for coming as we exit the room.
She gives me a few extra instructions, telling me about her friend who has an IV bar in the city and would be happy to make a house call if Paris is still feeling sluggish when she wakes up.
Rowan, Rhys, and I walk her outside, my heart swelling at how loyal this group is.
Not once have they ever treated Paris and her children like outsiders, instead welcoming them to this crazy found family with open arms. As sad as I am that their own flesh and blood cast them aside so easily, I’m filled with gratitude that, out of all the places they could’ve ended up, fate brought them here to us.
Now, I just have to prove to her that we belong together, and that I’d die before I ever hurt them.