Page 41 of Her Paramedic (Men in Uniforms #3)

S late carried Talia into his bedroom and sat her on the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked. He knew it was a dumb question to ask because she hadn’t been okay a minute ago, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

He nodded, going to grab his keys and wallet off the dresser before picking up her purse.

“Are we going somewhere?” she inquired.

“To the emergency room. You need to be looked at.”

Talia shook her head. “I’m fine. I should be good as new in a few minutes.”

“That wasn’t a question, gorgeous. They need to do a follow-up, and you need to be monitored for a few hours to ensure a second reaction doesn’t start.”

“I don’t like hospitals,” she admitted. “You can check me. You can monitor me. Please, baby.”

Slate contemplated her words momentarily. He could check and monitor; he was qualified to do so, and if a second reaction started, he could handle it. He’d injected her from her vial, not her EpiPen, so there were still two doses left.

“You can get Carie or Jonah to check me, too, if it makes you feel better. And if, after checking me, you still think I should go to the emergency room, I will.”

Slate put everything back on the dresser. “Okay,” he conceded.

He grabbed his jump bag from his closet.

A firm believer that it was always a good idea to have his own because there was no telling when he’d need it for something, and better safe than sorry was a quote he lived by.

He checked her heart rate and pulse. The latter was slightly elevated, but that was to be expected.

He noted it to compare once he rechecked it a bit later.

“You don’t have to go now, but you will if another reaction starts. I’m not asking. There won’t be any negotiation,” he informed as he slipped his phone from his back pocket and sent a text to his mom.

“Okay,” Talia responded, and Slate put the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope back into the bag.

“Talia, sweetie, are you okay?” his mother asked as she entered the bedroom.

“I am. I should be back to myself in no time.”

“Will you stay with her for a few minutes?” Slate asked.

“Of course,” his mother responded.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he informed Talia, kissing her temple.

He exited the bedroom and went back outside.

His eyes zeroed in on Brent. He didn’t have to ask what happened or why Talia had an allergic reaction.

He already knew. Slate had done an admirable job, in his opinion, of keeping his composure because the most important thing had been to treat his girlfriend and ensure she was okay. Now that he’d done that. He was pissed.

“Hey,” Brent started. “Is she—” Slate cut him off with a fist to his face, snapping his head to the side, and everything outside stopped. “What the hell!” Brent yelled as two people quickly stepped between them, and Slate’s dad grabbed him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Slate bit out. “Why would you bring that shit in here when I said in my invite, no fucking kiwis?”

“I didn’t bring any kiwis.”

“Bullshit!” Slate snapped. “She was fine before.”

“I didn’t!” Brent countered. “There was no kiwi in the punch. I used kiwi flavored vodka since I couldn’t use the fruit.”

“That’s still kiwi,” Solomon informed.

“But it isn’t the fruit,” Brent tried.

“You are so fucking stupid,” Slate replied, lunging at him only to be held back by the three other men.

“How was I supposed to know?” Brent asked, and Slate genuinely wanted to strangle the life from him. “But whatever. She’s clearly fine, so what’s the big deal?”

When Slate lunged at him this time, he got his hands around his throat. “You could have killed her, you moron.”

It took all three men to pry his hands from around his cousin’s neck, and when they did, Brent was wheezing and gasping for air. Good. Now, he knows a fraction of what she felt.

“Why don’t you go back inside with Talia, and I’ll shut things down out here,” Solomon suggested.

That was the best idea because if he had to look at Brent for a second longer, the other two paramedics in attendance would have a patient on their hands. He headed back towards the house, stopping briefly to take the epi vial from Carie.

When he entered his bedroom, he found his mother fussing over Talia, making sure she was comfortable. She’d somehow managed to get her to lie down.

“Did you find out what happened?” his mother asked.

“I didn’t need to. I already knew,” Slate responded.

“Did you put your hands on him? Did you hurt him?” Corrin asked with a raised brow.

“He’s still conscious if that’s what you’re asking, but it wasn’t from my lack of trying.”

He could tell his mother wanted to scold him, but given the situation thought against it. His actions were justified, and even if they weren’t, he didn’t give a damn. She patted him on the back as she exited, leaving him and Talia alone. Slate sat on the bed behind her.

“It’s not his fault,” she started. “I asked him what was in the punch. When he said vodka, I should have asked if it was flavored.”

“It is his fault because I sent a text to everyone bringing something and told them no kiwis. I told him twice because I know he likes to make that damn punch and then told him not to bring it.”

Slate wouldn’t let Brent off the hook just because she hadn’t asked him another question.

He’d told him not to bring the punch and had let everyone know, aside from his parents, since they would prepare their dishes at his house when Talia agreed to come, that under no circumstances were they to bring anything containing kiwi.

His cousin had said fuck it and done so anyway. Whether he genuinely thought there were no remnants of kiwi in a vodka flavored with it or just wanted to do what the hell he wanted to, Slate wasn’t sure. But he wouldn’t put it past Brent to be that damn stupid.

Sure, he could have told everyone the reason they couldn’t bring something with it was because Talia was allergic, but it was his house, his rules, and everyone should have respected that.

Even if he had told them, the idiot seemed to genuinely think there was no kiwi in the liquor.

Thinking about it, he was tempted to go back outside and stick his foot far enough up Brent’s ass that his cousin could taste the rubber.

Talia must have read his mind, because she grabbed his arm and pulled. “Lie down with me. I promised Corrin I’d lie down for a couple of hours.

Slate slipped his shoes off, went to the other side of the bed, and got in. She moved over to him, bringing the throw blanket with her, and laid her head on his chest. He’d wait half an hour before rechecking her blood pressure.