Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“What? Congrats.”
“And I’m in Spain!” There’s something else. Bad static. “Vance—” Her tone is imploring, but I don’t know what she’s saying. “Can you…” She cuts out. I hear, “at his house.”
“I’m at his house. He needs to see a doctor.”
What are the odds she knows? None, I tell myself, as I wait on her answer. There’s a long pause, filled with static.
I hear “UC,” which doesn’t make much sense. “UCSF—” Something else, and then she says, “Take him…UCSF…Center. Todd.” For a half second, the line is clear. “Go to UCSF Medical. He sees Dr. Todd.” She’s shouting—for good measure, I guess.
“I will.”
Luke moans again.
I look up and he’s on his back, shaking hard with his arms drawn up T-rex style near his chest. His face is bent in pain, and his chest pumps as he tries to breathe.
“Hey.” I cup my palm around his cheek, shocked anew at how damn hot he is. “I’m gonna take you to the doctor, okay? You want to feel better?”
His eyes lock onto mine for the first time, like maybe he understands what I’m saying. Then they roll back.
“Fuck.”
I squeeze his hands and tug on his arms, trying to get him rolled over. He’s shaking so badly, it seems like he’s awake—but he’s not. There’s something really wrong.
“Luke.” His eyelids peel open. “We’ve gotta get down off the bed and walk to the car, okay, my man?”
His eyelids peel open. His cracked lips are so swollen, it looks like someone hit him in the mouth. I can hear a crackling wheeze every time he exhales, and now that I’m looking him over, I realize he’s breathing fast with chest retractions people get when their lungs really don’t work. Dude must have a rockin’ case of pneumonia.
I hesitate for a just second before taking one of his hands in mine. Man oh man, even his hands burn.
My thumb strokes the underside of his wrist and hold his glassy gaze. “It’s gonna be okay, dude. Just gotta get you to the car, then we’ll be gravy.”
I step back and look around. The office chair. I push it beside the bed and drag him by his legs. Luke lets out a low groan, and sweat pops out on my forehead as I wrap my arms around him and brace him for a controlled fall into the chair.
It’s so weird…because he does just that. He falls—like a rag doll. His head sort of bounces, and his eyelids crack open, but he doesn’t lift it. Lying askew in the chair, so pale and limp, still shaking, he looks really fucking sick.
He doesn’t move as I wrap him in a sheet—to keep him from falling out of the chair while I push it. I push him into the kitchen, where I find the key fob. Then I open the car door and drag him from the chair and down the three stairs to the car. Hauling him in, I bash his temple against the door frame. He looks up at me, and his face twists like he might cry, but he starts coughing instead.
Shit, I hate this so much. I stuff his legs into the car so I can shut the door, then go to the driver’s side and drag him by his shoulders.
“Luke?”
He groans as I slide behind the wheel. I back out, and he falls forward from the car’s seat, coughing as his head hangs toward the floorboard.
“Fuck.” I pull him back up.
His eyes flutter. “Vance?”
I steel myself. “I came to help you out, man. Take you to the doctor.” He braces his hand against the car’s front console and groans. I tug him a little toward me. Then I lock an arm around him, under his arm.
“Fuck shit.” I forgot to put an address into my GPS. I fix that, and starts to shiver hard again as I jet off in that direction.
I brake hard for a light, and he moans.
“Shit. I’m sorry, buddy.”
He’s trying to move. I realize his head is coming toward my legs. His hand reaches for me, closing around my knee. Then he shifts, so his face is resting on my lap.
Despite myself, I wrap my arm around him.
“It’s okay, McD.” He’s so hot, I can feel his fever through my pants. He starts shaking again, gripping my leg tighter as he does.
“I’ve got you.”
I keep my arm locked around his torso the whole time, my muscles aching with the strain of keeping his big, mostly limp self from falling into the floor space.
As I turn left into the hospital’s ER spot, he groans again and whimpers my name.
“It’s okay.”
I park right by the ER’s automatic doors, lift Luke’s head, and slide out from under him. Then I half jog to the ER desk.
“Hey.” I drop my voice down so it’s whispered. “I need Dr. Todd. I’ve got a patient of his, came in the car, really fucked up.” My own voice is shaking. I don’t even know how worked up I am until I realize I can’t breathe myself.