Chapter 9
Erin steps into the Scotiabank Arena behind the rest of the team, feeling like they're marching in a military parade. Mia is a few steps ahead with Noah and a couple of the dancers who travel with her on tour.
The doctor swings her arms a few times as she walks, because her muscles still feel a little tight.
This morning she worked out in the hotel gym—something she likes to do whenever she can, but that her long, rotating ER shifts have always made harder to fit in.
She hit arms, legs, and back, and she feels much better now, though she's pretty sure she'll be sore tomorrow.
Mia and her band head straight for the stage, because the singer likes to walk every inch of it before things get started, and Erin keeps moving, following a security guard who leads her down the backstage hallway after showing her the medical room and the dressing room assigned to her.
She runs through her usual supply checks, drops off her things, and makes her way to the stage.
It's quarter to five, and the official rehearsal doesn't start for another fifteen minutes, but Mia is already doing a sound check with the technicians.
Erin takes her position at the side of the stage, the walkie-talkie they gave her in hand and an earpiece in one ear so she can hear when the noise gets too loud.
She watches Jude pass behind the stage, polished and aloof, as if the concert were already underway.
She hasn't crossed paths with him yet, and she doesn't miss it—she doesn't like the man.
The way he brushed off the concern about his artist's health bothers her, because it tells her he puts business ahead of Mia Wilder's well-being.
Jude glances up and spots her. He pauses for a moment, then raises a hand in greeting, and Erin can tell the feeling is mutual. She returns the gesture and steps onto the stage to take Mia's vitals. The singer turns toward her and steps away from the group, as if she'd sensed her coming.
"Give me that hand, Wilder."
"So formal, Dooley," Mia says, stretching out her arm.
Erin wraps her fingers around Mia's wrist and focuses on counting, saying nothing, while Mia feels that faint tingling that starts every time the doctor's fingers press against her skin.
It happened yesterday, and it happened both times she took her vitals this morning.
She glances around and sees several people on the crew watching them, Jude among them.
She isn't entirely uncomfortable—everyone knows what's going on with her—but she doesn't love the feeling either. It makes her feel like a freak.
"Would you rather we did this somewhere else?" Erin asks. She's looked up and caught the tension in the singer's face.
"No, it's fine. I guess they'll have to get used to it."
"And you? How are you holding up?" the doctor asks.
Mia presses her arms against her sides and drags the toe of her boot across the floor, trying to project a confidence Erin can see she isn't feeling right now.
"Fine—it's not that serious, right?"
She shrugs, and her blue eyes meet the doctor's for a second before dropping back to the floor.
"No, it's not, but it's a big change in your routine, and early in a diagnosis every symptom is scary because you think you're about to collapse."
The singer shrugs again, a knot forming in her stomach that forces a sharp sigh out of her.
"I'm fine, it doesn't scare me," she insists, but her body says something else entirely.
"You don't have to pretend anything with me, Wilder.
I'm not your friend, I'm not your manager, and I'm not part of the team that follows you around at rehearsals.
I'm your doctor, and I know exactly what's happening with you—so if you need to talk about it, clear up any question you have, or just say out loud that what you felt after the fainting scared you more than what came before, you can come to me. "
Mia's gaze lifts very slowly, and her blue eyes go still on Erin's gray ones.
She hasn't told anyone about the fear she felt when she woke up on that stretcher—in a room she didn't recognize, with a background noise she couldn't place and the soft, gentle voice of the woman in front of her trying to calm her down.
But Erin noticed, and Mia isn't sure how to feel about the fact that this doctor can see through her mask that easily.
"Thank you, Doctor, but I'm perfectly fine," she replies, waving it off with a vague gesture. "Can I get back to rehearsal?"
Erin studies her for a moment, then nods.
"Yes, but drink some water first," she says, picking up the bottle she'd set on the floor when she found Mia.
The singer doesn't argue. She takes it, drinks three long swallows, hands it back, and jogs toward center stage. Erin returns to her spot and radios a request to have extra bottles placed around the stage, out of the way, so Mia can drink whenever she needs to.
"Erin Dooley?"
The doctor turns at the sound of her name and finds a woman who must be around sixty, with short, messy gray hair that looks like she couldn't care less.
"Nell?" she guesses, remembering the description the lawyer gave her.
"The one and only—glad to finally meet you," Nell says, giving her a firm handshake.
"Likewise."
"I'll be around back making sure everything goes the way it should, but if you need anything, just say the word."
"Perfect, thanks," Erin replies.
Nell turns to go but stops before she's taken a step.
"How's Mia?" she asks, watching the singer. "Other than stunning."
Erin smiles.
"She's good. No symptoms so far, and I've made sure she's staying hydrated and eating well throughout the day. Nothing should happen, but I'll be watching."
"Glad to hear it—what a scare that was, the thing at the Garden. Anyway, I'll see you later."
Erin watches her go and stands still for a moment.
She likes her already. Nell seems tough and blunt when she's not talking, but she gives off the same quiet calm Erin gets from Barry, and that's something she feels with very few people.
She turns back to the stage and feels a sudden pull in her stomach when she sees Mia peel off the hoodie she had on.
The singer unzips it down the middle and lets it drop to the side of the stage, leaving her in a cropped top that covers just enough and the black leggings she put on for rehearsal.
Erin clears her throat and takes a sip from her own water bottle to settle that strange feeling.
Rehearsal flies by, and at seven o'clock everything stops and the stage lights go dark as the doors open to the public. Mia comes down on her side and Erin hands her a water bottle, walking with her through the backstage hallway until they reach the medical room.
"Come in for a minute—let me take your blood pressure and then you're free to get ready."
Again, Mia doesn't argue. She follows her in and sits in the chair Erin points to, catching her breath.
Erin puts the cuff on her arm and presses the button while Mia lets her eyes settle on the doctor's waist. She loves Erin's casual style—the short-sleeved shirt half-untucked from the black cargo pants that make her legs look even longer.
"This looks good. How do you feel? Any dizziness at any point?"
Mia stands up, and when she does she ends up too close to Erin, who looks at her for a beat as the singer tilts her head back, because the doctor has a few inches on her.
Mia finds her so tempting that for a split second she thinks about rising onto her toes and kissing her, because Erin has a way of looking at her that throws her completely off balance.
She doesn't blink, doesn't seem uncomfortable when their eyes meet, and sometimes Mia has the feeling they spend way too long just watching each other—but she catches herself immediately, reminding herself that this woman has no interest in her and that everything she's reading into it is just in her head.
She's seeing what she wants to see, because she likes Erin Dooley.
"I'm fine, Dooley. I hope you enjoy the—" Mia stops and narrows her eyes. "Do you actually like my music?"
The doctor smiles in a way that makes Mia's stomach flip and press against her ribs.
"It's not really my style," she says, choosing honesty, "but I don't dislike it."
"Are you always this diplomatic?" Mia raises an eyebrow, and that crooked smile appears—the one that always makes Erin notice the fine little line at the corner of her lips.
"Only when it's called for."
"You don't need to sugarcoat anything for me—if you don't like my music, you can just say so." Mia looks amused, and Erin isn't sure this conversation—harmless on the surface—should keep going, because it isn't what they're saying, it's the playful look on Mia Wilder's face when she talks to her.
"I would if that were the case, but like I said—it's not bad."
"That's a terrible answer, Doctor."
Erin laughs without opening her mouth, letting the air out through her nose as Mia backs toward the door, turns around, and walks out.
The concert starts ten minutes late because Jude decided that was the better call.
"Build the anticipation," he said—but the only thing Erin noticed it built was Mia's nerves, as she paced back and forth while Noah tried to keep her calm.
"Okay, go," someone calls, and Mia sprints to her mark.
The lights cut across the entire arena and the crowd roars as a single spotlight finds Mia Wilder.
It looks like it might be something slow, but the show kicks off with an upbeat song where Mia opens with a few seconds of solo choreography before the dancers join her—dancers Erin never even notices take the stage, because her eyes haven't left the singer.
Mia's nerves seem to have vanished completely. She owns the stage now, running on that energy of hers that Erin finds completely contagious. The songs keep coming and Erin stays calm. Mia isn't showing any symptoms, and she's drinking between songs without needing a single reminder.