Page 37 of The Player Next Door
Logan stood. “Where’s your purse?”
“It might not be appen—”
“I’m not going to let you sit here by yourself and find out,” he said curtly. “By then it might be too late. Purse, phone, and shoes. And keys. Where are they?”
“Uh . . . right inside the door for purse and shoes and keys, phone—” she broke off, curling into a fetal position. “Phone is . . . maybe by my bed?”
Logan shouldered into her apartment and found her phone hidden under a tangle of blankets in her bed. He grabbed her purse and shoes and walked back to her, once more crouching down. “Wait, you’ve got—shorts or something on, right?” he said, realizing her shirt was long enough that she might not.
“Yeah,” she said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t come out into the hallway pantsless.”
“That’s a shame,” he teased, even though his heart was racing. He was glad the shoes he’d found for her slipped on; his hands were shaking so badly he wasn’t sure he could tie them.
Clare laughed weakly and let him ease the shoes onto her feet. Logan handed her her purse, phone safely tucked inside, and emptied the Gatorade and ramen out of the bag and onto the floor inside her door. He pressed the plastic bag into her hands. “For puking,” he said solemnly, and helped her up.
He let her lean on him for two steps and then stopped, carefully swooping her up against his chest, legs dangling over his other arm. “This okay?” he asked. She smelled like sick, overly sweet with a tang of sweat, and she nodded. Logan took a step toward the elevator and then paused. “I’m—”
“Going to have to take the stairs, yeah. Can’t risk getting stuck,” she finished.
“It might hurt. I’ll try not to jostle you,” he murmured, silently cursing the building’s management, and she nodded again.
She was trying not to make a sound, he could tell. But even though he was doing his best to insulate her from any jarring movements, being carried down five flights of stairs was going to be bumpy. Every whimper and moan she let escape felt like a dagger in his chest, and by the time Logan made it to his car in the underground garage he wasn’t sure if the sweat making his shirt stick to his chest was from her or him. Clare lumbered over to a trash can and threw up several times while he waited, rubbing her back until she straightened. “Ready?” he asked.
Clare could only manage a nod.
The hospital was just on the other side of downtown, but it felt like it was in another state. Every red light had him screaming inside, glancing at Clare out of the corner of his eye. She was resting her face against the window, eyes shut, breathing ragged. He pulled into the emergency room parking lot and jumped out, not even letting her try to walk. “I’ve got you,” he said as soothingly as he could past the lump in his throat. She whispered something he didn’t catch in response.
The doors hissed open and a blast of cool air and bright fluorescent light hit them both. Maybe it was his imagination, but Clare seemed to have gotten paler since their hallway, dark circles blooming under her eyes. A nurse hurried over with a wheelchair and Logan set her down as carefully as he could. The triage nurse began asking questions that Clare did her best to answer, eyes darting between the nurse and him.
“Let’s get you to a room,” the nurse said kindly, once Clare had explained her symptoms.
Clare looked at Logan again. “Are—”
“Your boyfriend can come too, it’s fine,” the nurse replied.
“He’s not—”
“Great,” Logan interrupted. “Lead the way.”
“You don’t have to, I’m fine,” Clare said as he followed them around a corner and through a set of doors.
“You are not fine,” he corrected. “I’m staying.”
The nurse took them to a hallway of curtained-off rooms. “You’ll be here until we admit you. If you can, put the gown on, ties go in the back. Someone will be with you shortly,” she said, swishing the curtain closed.
Clare moved gingerly from the wheelchair to the bed. “You really don’t have to stay. Devi should be almost done with her shift at the library, and if she can’t come, I can call someone else.”
“I’m not leaving you here alone,” Logan said firmly. His heart was still in his throat and privately, he marveled that he hadn’t yelled for a goddamn doctor already.Can’t you see she’s in pain?He didn’t understand why they couldn’t give her painkillers first, then make her wait around. “Need help with the gown?”
“I can manage,” she said. “Do you mind turning around?”
Logan faced the curtain between them and the next compartment, which was currently empty. There was the rustle of cloth and a few whimpers of pain, but soon enough she cleared her throat. “Okay, I’m decent,” she announced.
Logan turned back and watched her struggle with the sheets, stepping forward to lift them up to her waist. It was easier to focus on the rough cotton than meet her eyes. “You ready in there?” someone called from the hallway.
Logan took her upturned hand in both of his and sat down. “Ready,” she replied.
Chapter Nineteen