Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111685 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
I gestured, feeling a sense of impending doom and the general wish that an entire mountain would drop on me. “It’s probably Stone wondering what the hell is going on.”
He nodded. “I’ll get your phone.”
He went in search of the electronic perpetrator and the female paramedic approached. “Ma’am? My name is Jill. We had a call that someone might need assistance?”
“Yeah.”
The paramedic touched my arm. “Was that you, Miss? Are you in need of help?” Her hand slid down to my wrist, and she was taking my pulse.
I turned to her. “How’d you know where I was?”
The cop was returning, talking on my phone.
She was counting, but her partner stepped forward. He went to grab a chair, and brought it up behind me. “If you could have a seat?”
I did. My knees were about to give out anyway.
The male paramedic knelt beside me, unpacking his bag. “We had a call from a Susan Anderson, your academic advisor. She gave us this address.”
But how’d she know this address? Wait. Stone. He must’ve been in contact with the university, too. Jesus, was there anything he hadn’t already taken care of?
The cop stepped forward and handed my phone over. “He’d like to speak to you.”
I took it but had the foresight to ask the time first.
“It’s eleven-ten.”
Whoa.
When had I called Siobhan? Earlier. Right? Time was slipping away, but this was how it’d been before. I had sat and stared into nothing until somehow my brain told me to stand, to move, to eat, to walk, to wash, to keep going.
It was now after eleven and I had no sense of any one moment over the past couple of hours. I put the phone to my ear. “Did you win?” He had his game. It would’ve been done by now.
Silence. Then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I winced, but I couldn’t blame him for being angry.
“I’m sorry, Stone. I—”
“Are you okay?” he cut me off, asking roughly.
“I will be.”
The female paramedic was shining a light in my eye. I blinked, trying to turn away, but she overrode me, saying, “Ma’am, you need to keep still for us.”
I did, trying to. “I had a panic attack, and then I fell asleep. That’s it. I swear.”
“Is your head okay?”
“Yeah.” This was embarrassing. “I just got overwhelmed and I forget things and—”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. As long as you’re okay. You are, right?”
The paramedics were still checking me over, now watching my chest. They’d already finished with my blood pressure. I was talking so my airway wasn’t blocked. I was fine.
I told them and Stone at the same time, “Yes. I’m fine. I am.”
At that moment, the alarm cut off. I saw the cop on the houseline, and he hung up a second later, coming back to us.
“Yeah,” the female paramedic said, shifting back on her feet. “I tend to agree. A panic attack?”
The cop said, “Mr. Reeves said you recently experienced your own car accident after finding out—”
“Yes!” I almost shouted that word. I didn’t want him to say the words. I couldn’t—that was part of the problem. I lowered my head, unable to look up, seeing the pity in his gaze. “Yes, but I’m fine. I just got overwhelmed.”
“You were in an accident?” female paramedic questioned.
“She was put in a coma, came out of it Thursday, and was released from the hospital yesterday. Mr. Reeves said you’d gone back to the ER yesterday.”
“Yeah. I…” They were making a bigger deal out of everything, more than it was. I was losing steam. Why was everything so hard? Why’d everything take so much energy? Why’d I want to just go to sleep again?
Trauma.
That’s what he said. That was true. The body needed to do double work to heal after a trauma, and that went for both mental and physical trauma. I knew this. I knew this, but God. I sucked in a breath. My chest was hurting. My throat was hurting. I felt like my insides were pulling apart, one organ at a time was being ripped to pieces.
Trauma. Yes. I suppose that’s the best word to describe it.
“Ma’am?”
The cop said, “Mr. Reeves said he was on his way back. He can answer any questions, but she doesn’t seem to be in need of medical assistance right now.”
At his words, a shift came over both paramedics. They began packing but stood.
I remained sitting, my head lowered, and as if just sensing I wanted my space, they moved over to where the cop was. I heard the guy ask, “Are we really talking about the actual Stone Reeves?”
“Seems like.” The cop’s tone turned almost cheerful. Upbeat. “Sounded like him on the phone.”
“They won tonight, right?”
“Reeves ran in two of the three touchdowns himself.”
The female. “He’s a future Hall-of-Famer. Has to be.”
They kept talking while I sat, listening. We all waited.