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Nineteen

Sheridan was ten hours into her shift the next day when Claire came down to the ED bearing gifts.

“It’s our monthly birthday celebration in occupational therapy. I thought you could use an emotional support cupcake right about now,” she said.

“You are a goddess. The oatmeal I inhaled five hours ago is starting to wear off.”

“That should tide you over until you get home. By the way, I can grab Finn when I pick up my kids after school. He can hang out with us until it’s time to head to the arena.

That should give you time for a quick nap before the game.

He’s welcome to spend the night, too. If he can stand being shadowed by Grace all night. She has quite the crush on him.”

A morning to sleep in sounded like heaven. Especially since the Mayhem had the next day off, and she’d be sleeping in— or not sleeping in —with Alek.

“I’m sure Finn loves having an adoring fan club,” Sheridan said.

If he even notices.

She’d been like Grace once, gah-gah over her older brother’s friend. It was cute for now, but she prayed Grace had a strong heart.

“We need help out here,” one of the triage nurses shouted.

Sheridan and Claire turned to see Brooke Merriweather stumbling into the lobby, carrying both her children in her arms. The baby was wailing. The toddler, however, looked to be out cold.

“Please,” she cried. “He won’t wake up.”

Claire was already reaching for the crying baby while Sheridan guided Brooke over to a trauma bay.

“How long has he been like this?” Sheridan asked as she tried to pry the child from Brooke’s arms. She was grateful to see the toddler’s chest moving, even if it was only shallow breaths.

“I thought he was sleeping late.” Brooke’s laugh sounded hollow. “But what toddler sleeps late? Brad’s right. I’m so stupid.”

Sheridan exchanged a look with Claire as the resident charged into the room. “What have we got?”

“I need you to lay him down on the gurney so we can examine him,” Sheridan insisted.

Brooke relented. The doctor checked his pupils while Sheridan wrapped the pediatric blood pressure cuff around the little boy’s limp arm.

“Jackson.” She prodded the boy on the shoulder. “Can you open your eyes for me, honey?”

No response.

Sheridan reported Jackson’s vital signs. “Heart rate is eighty-five. BP is eighty-two over fifty. Temp is ninety-seven point six. Respiratory rate is normal at fifteen.”

“Pupils are normal and reactive,” the doctor told her. “Grab a blood gas. We need red, purple, and green tops to the lab ASAP. And let’s cath him for a urinalysis.”

He fired off questions for Brooke as he examined Jackson. “Any known medical issues? Allergies? Has he had any recent falls? Any change to his urine or stool? Slurred speech? Did he have a playdate at a friend’s house yesterday? Are any other kids sick at preschool?”

Brooke shook her head. “No. None of that. He doesn’t go to preschool.”

Jackson barely flinched when Sheridan inserted a line into his arm.

“Any drugs in the house?” the doctor asked.

The question seemed to startle Brooke. “No.”

The doctor didn’t let up. “Cough medicine? Pain meds? Laundry pods? Melatonin? Alcohol? Do you keep all that stuff locked up?”

Brooke grew defensive. “All the cabinets are child-proofed,” she snapped.

Sheridan placed a hand on her shoulder. “These are routine diagnostic questions. No one is accusing you of anything.”

“Brad will,” Brooke whispered.

A fission of worry raced down Sheridan’s spine.

“Where is Brad?” Claire asked.

“Uh, still at morning skate, I guess,” Brooke replied. “Please, Doctor, is Jackson going to be okay? What’s wrong with him?” Her voice breaking made the baby in Claire’s arms cry harder.

“I’m going to take this little guy for a walk,” Claire announced. “I’ll track down Brad,” she murmured to Sheridan before slipping from the room.

“I’m not sure what’s going on with your son yet, but our job is to figure it out,” the doctor reassured Brooke. “We need to run a few tests. Then we’ll talk more.” The doctor motioned for Sheridan to step outside with him. “You know this family?”

She nodded.

“Anything unusual about life inside the home?”

Sheridan looked back into the trauma bay. Brooke had crawled onto the gurney with her son. The poor woman always looked so overwhelmed.

“Not that I know for certain.”

It was the truth. Sure, Brad was a colossal asshat.

But she’d seen things go south quickly when people started pointing fingers based on gut feelings.

And when law enforcement gets involved, it’s hard to walk back those kinds of statements.

The priority right now was figuring out what was wrong with Jackson and getting him better.

For the time being, Sheridan would keep her opinions to herself.

The doctor sighed. “Get someone down here from peds for a consult. And call someone from social work to talk to the mom. My spidey sense says there’s more to this story.”

“We’re waiting on the preliminary test results to come back,” Sheridan told Trent twenty minutes later when he stopped by to say hello. “Jackson is still somnolent.”

Trent stared into the trauma bay where Brooke seemed to be singing to her son as she rocked him against her side.

“What’s her story?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know her well enough for her to confide in me. I do know she always seems harried and afraid?—”

Trent whipped his head around to stare at her. “Do you think something is going on with the husband to make her afraid of him?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. Afraid might not be an apt description.”

“What’s the guy like?”

“Ugh. Just between you and me, he’s a creep.”

Trent pursed his lips before turning back to observe Brooke. “How about I see what I can suss out from her while you wait for the social worker to break free from her other case?”

Sheridan shrugged. “Why not? You’re the expert at getting people to open up.”

He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler before entering the bay. Sheridan watched as he coaxed Brooke to a sitting position and offered her the water. A few minutes later, he’d charmed her into talking to him.

The doctor came to stand beside Sheridan.

“The first round of tests came back negative for any of the usual suspects. The urinalysis won’t be in for another fifteen to thirty minutes.

The next step is a CT scan and an LP. We should have sent Trent in with the consent form for that one.

Mamas tend to get frantic when you mention tapping their babies’ spines. ”

“I wonder why,” she replied sarcastically.

“Where the hell is my son?” Brad shouted as he stormed into the ED with Lori on his heels. “What are you doing to him?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the doctor murmured. He leveled an annoyed look at Sheridan. “I take it this guy is a piece of work off the ice, too, fr?ulein?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Please try to calm down, Merriweather,” Lori admonished Brad. “These people are the ones helping Jackson.”

The doctor blocked Brad’s path. “Mr. Merriweather, we are unable to wake your son from sleep. We are still running tests to determine the cause. As soon as we get a signed consent form, we’ll proceed with a few more tests that will give us additional information.”

Too bad Brad wasn’t paying any attention to the doctor. “Huh-uh,” he replied before bursting into the trauma bay. “Get your fucking hand off my wife.”

Trent didn’t react. He kept his palm on Brooke’s jean-clad thigh. Brooke wasn’t as sanguine, however. She jumped from the gurney like a scared kitten.

“Brad. Jackson won’t wake up.” She launched herself at his broad chest only to have her husband shove her away.

“What did you do, Brooke?” He gave Jackson a shake. “Jackson!” he shouted.

The toddler didn’t stir.

Brad glared at his wife. “The kid was fine last night.”

Brooke looked over at Trent, as if seeking reinforcement, before straightening her spine and staring down her husband. “How would you know? You wouldn’t even help put him to bed.”

“He woke up later. You were passed out with the baby in our bed, as usual.”

“What time was this?” the doctor asked. “Did you notice anything different about him?”

“It was around eleven, I guess. He seemed fine. He just wanted a little daddy time.”

Brooke blanched. “You were playing video games.”

Brad shrugged. “Figured it was about time he learned. You’re turning him into a wuss with all your crap about being in touch with his feelings.”

“What did you give him?” Brooke’s voice had dropped several octaves.

Lori sucked in a shocked breath. Sheridan placed her palm on the helpless boy’s leg, still clad in Bluey pajamas.

“Were you using drugs at the time, Mr. Merriweather?” the doctor asked quietly.

“No!” Brad shouted. He shot an ugly look at his wife. Then at Lori.

“I have some medical marijuana from time to time to recover after a game. But that’s legal within the league. I’d never light up with my kid in the room, though.”

“The gummies, Brad. He would have thought they were candy. Tell me you didn’t have them out where he could see them.”

Brad blinked. Once. Twice. “I took a couple, yeah. But I told him I’d get him some candy today.”

Brooke was beginning to hyperventilate.

Lori asked the question that was on the tip of everyone’s tongue. “Did you leave Jackson alone in the room with the gummies at any time?”

“How does this concern you?” Brad barked. “This is a family matter. It’s bad enough you had to drag me out of a team meeting like a juvenile delinquent being sent to the principal’s office.”

“Answer the damn question, Brad!” Sheridan shouted.

He was about to turn on her too when he noticed all the eyes in the ED primed on the trauma bay, including those of a security guard positioned outside the bay door. Brad brushed both his hands over his head.

“I don’t know. I got up to take a piss once or twice.”

Brooke’s primal scream filled the bay as she flung herself at her husband and began pummeling him with her fists. “You bastard! If my child is brain-dead because of you, I’ll kill you!”

Trent waved off the security guard, pulling her off Brad and over to the other side of the gurney. The doctor was already on the phone to the lab telling them to run a tox screen on the urine sample.

“I want him out of here.” Brooke pointed toward the sliding door. “I don’t want him anywhere near my boys.”

“They’re my boys, too!” Brad looked around. “Where are you hiding August? That kid’s usually attached to you in some way or another.”

“That’s because he’s afraid of you!” Brooke shouted.

“This isn’t helping Jackson right now,” Sheridan intervened. “Brad, why don’t you come outside with me, and we’ll get the paperwork signed for the additional testing.”

He sneered at her. “Haven’t you damn WAGs done enough?

First, Gus’s wife calls in the cavalry.” He gestured at Lori.

“Now you think you’re all high and mighty and can start bossing me around.

Well, screw you. I’m not leaving my wife in here with some handsy doctor.

And I’m not leaving my son. If you want to be helpful, go find August.”

Brooke shot her a desperate look. “No! I don’t want Brad here. And I don’t want him near August. I’m so done with you, Brad.” She pleaded with Trent. “Does he have to be in here?”

The phone rang before Trent could answer.

“Got it,” the doctor replied, then hung up. “No need for additional testing. Jackson is suffering from an acute THC overdose.”

“Oh God!” Brooke leaned down to snuggle her son. “My sweet boy.”

“That’s impossible. Those things aren’t that potent,” Brad argued. “I would have noticed if he ate the whole bottle.”

“Jackson is one-tenth your size,” Sheridan clapped back. “He’d only have to eat two or three to end up here.”

Brad went still. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“We’re going to admit him to pediatrics,” the doctor explained. “They’ll monitor him and continue flushing out his system with fluids until something changes.”

“But he’ll wake up, right?” Brad asked.

“That’s the hope,” the doctor replied. “We’ll know in about twenty-four hours.”

Brooke’s voice shook. “But will he be . . . normal?”

“There haven’t been any definitive studies on kids Jackson’s age to know the answer to that question,” Trent attempted to reassure her. “But I’ve seen quite a few cases where the child has recovered unscathed.”

Please let that be the case here , Sheridan prayed.

The doctor motioned for the security guard to enter the room. “The law requires us to contact Child Protective Services in these cases.”

“Hell, no!” Brad yelled. “This was an accident.”

“Stick to the facts, and you shouldn’t have any problems,” the doctor replied.

“Is there a possibility law enforcement will get involved?” Lori asked him.

Brad was clenching and unclenching his fists. “What the actual fuck!”

“That’s the last thing any of us wants.” He looked between Brad and Brooke.

“Right now, Jackson is my immediate concern. What happens from here is up to CPS. My advice? Stop being an ass, Merriweather. It will help your case.” He turned to Sheridan.

“I’m going to see about getting him transferred to peds. ”

Lori moved to follow him out. “I’ll let the coach know you’re taking family leave tonight,” she told Brad.

“Can I get you anything, Brooke?” Trent asked.

“I’ll take care of my wife.”

So much for Brad behaving.

Brooke ignored him. “If you could call my mother and a divorce lawyer, I’d appreciate it,” she said to Trent.