by kj lewis
“Emme!” I hear Teague in the background, but I can’t make my body move or my eyes open to see him.
“There’s a red button on the night stand. Push it,” I hear him say as I feel the ground move from under me. “She’s burning up. Call 911.”
“No,” I squeak out.
“Oh, thank God. She’s responsive. Emme, can you open your eyes?” Teague asks.
“Call Matt. Don’t call 911. I don’t want another story,” I manage to say before I hear commotion in the hallway. Without opening my eyes or hearing his voice, I know Graham is in the room.
“How long has she been like this?” I feel Graham’s hands on my face. “She’s burning up and shaking like crazy. Watch her means to watch her.”
“You said watch her, not sleep with her,” Teague bites back, and I can hear his real message to Graham in his tone.
“Emelia, baby. You need to drink some water,” Graham says holding up my head. I shake my head slightly; I know I won’t be able to keep it down.
“Send Myles to pick up a dwarf. Tell them to bring their doctor kit. Then send the helicopter for my Mom. She’s in the Hamptons.” Graham fires off directives.
“Mom, something’s wrong with Emelia. Matt is on his way. I’m sending a helicopter for you. I need you back here.” After a pause he says “No. She doesn’t want to go. I’ll let you know if Matt overrides her.” Another pause. “Thanks, Mom. Love you, too.”
“Mom is on her way. She wanted me to tell you she loves you,” he says quietly, running his hand over my cheek. My heart swells at his touch. It heals me.
“There’s a thermometer in the bathroom, top left drawer. And can you bring me a wet washcloth?” Someone shuffles away on Graham’s orders.
“Here ya go.” I hear Joy’s voice. She must have been with Teague.
It takes more energy than it should, but I’m finally able to get my hand to slide onto Graham’s leg as he sits next to me. He kisses my forehead before placing a cold cloth on it, breaking the last of the control that I was holding on to.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says, his thumb wiping the tear that escapes from the corner of my eye. “Put this under your tongue.” He taps something cold against my lip.
“James.” Drew lightly shakes my shoulders. “I need you to wake up or I’m going to have to take you to the hospital. Understand?” He continues to shake me. I nod my response.
“That’s good.” I’m blinded by a light in one eye then the next.
“Hey, Matt. Yeah, I’m here. Her pupils are reactive. Temp is 104.1. She’s severely dehydrated. General malaise and extreme fatigue. They found her passed out on the floor. Do we know how long she was passed out or has been running a fever?”
“She’s had a slight fever for the last 36 hours. I don’t know how long she was out.”
“Three,” I say softly, my throat so dry the words will barely come out.
“Three what, babe?” Drew asks.
“Did you get up at three?” Graham asks. I nod my head.
“She got up at three. Teague found her at nine,” Graham says, and I hear the self-loathing in his voice.
“Best we can tell she’s been in and out for the last six hours.” He pauses. “I agree. I’m starting that now. I’m going to send one of Graham’s people over with some lab work. Can you have it rushed? I think she has a severe case of the flu, but I don’t want to rule out meningitis.” Another pause. “Let’s do that. If the lab work is inconclusive, we’ll do a lumbar puncture.” Another pause. “No, I didn’t know that. Okay, I’ll check that now. If I find anything we’ll admit for a biopsy.” Another pause. “Okay. Let’s do ceftriaxone or ceftazidime. Whichever you can get, give it to them when they drop off the bloodwork. Ruth is on her way. She can administer the consecutive doses.” Another pause. “Got it. Sounds like a plan. I will.”
“Matt says he loves you and to tell you you’ll be feeling better by tonight,” Drew assures me. Mustering all my strength, I open my eyes long enough to see him.
“There’s my girl.” The fact that Graham hates it when Drew calls me that brings a slight curl to my lip.
“Whatever you’re tickled about. Keep thinking it,” Drew chuckles
“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” I hear Graham mumble, and I know it’s his way of connecting with me.
“You’re going to feel a slight poke. I’m starting an IV. You are severely dehydrated. There. Now. I didn’t know your mom passed of Lymphoma? Not sure how I missed that. I’m going to examine you and make sure there isn’t any swelling in your lymph nodes.”
“I’m sorry,” he says when he touches behind my knees. “I’m sure my hands are cold.”“Can you give her something to help with the chills?” Graham asks. “She’s hasn’t stopped shaking.”
I am?
“No. Breaking the fever will stop the chills.” His hands move from the back of my knees to my groin. He raises my shirt to my waist. When did they change what I had on? Drew positions my legs slightly to gain the access he needs for his fingers to follow my pelvis and the crease where my thigh meets my pelvis. Once he’s done both sides, he pulls the blanket up to cover me. “Can you help her sit up?”
Graham raises me into a sitting positon.
“I’m going to check under your arms and then do a breast check.” He tells me what to expect and discreetly lifts my t-shirt. “Was that necessary?” I ask dryly when he pinches my nipple. “Glad to see your wit is still intact. All part of a clinical breast exam.” He’s all business. Once he’s checked both breasts, he pulls the sheet up before resting my hand on his shoulder and checking the nodes in my armpit, repeating the process on the other side. He checks from my ears down to my neck and across my collarbone before listening to my chest.
“Deep breaths.” He puts the stethoscope against my back. “Well. The good news is you don’t have any swollen lymph nodes or signs of pneumonia. I want to rule out meningitis, but I’m pretty sure you have a severe case of the flu. The IV’s will accelerate the recovery time, and you should start to feel better later today, but you won’t be going anywhere for a minimum of three to five days, and you won’t feel a hundred percent for probably seven to ten days.”
“So I can stay here?” I ask, hopeful but still too exhausted to open my eyes.
“It’s not ideal, but assuming you respond to the IV and the medications as expected, yes. If not, we’ll have to admit you. Will someone be here to help her to the bathroom?” Drew asks.“Yes. She won’t be alone,” Graham says.
“No getting up on your own. Understand?” I hear the concern in Drew’s voice. He places my hand in his.
“I understand,” I tell him.
Cupping my face with his hand, he tells me he loves me before lightly kissing my forehead. “Sleep babe. Someone will be here when you wake up. I promise.”
I feel fingernails skating over my scalp.
“Emme, darling.” Ruth continues to run her fingers through my hair. “I need you to eat,” she tells me before telling someone, “I’m going to lift her slightly. Prop her up with those pillows please.”
“Like this?” I hear Lucy say.
“That’s perfect dear.”
For the first time all day, I feel like I have the strength to open my eyes.
“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” I rasp before clearing my throat.
“I know. It will get better.” She sticks a thermometer under my tongue, removing it after it beeps. “103.5,” she says.
“Is that what you expected?” Lucy asks.
“Well, I would like to have seen it below 103.” She frowns as she checks the whites of my eyes. “Go get Graham and let him know she’s up.”
“This has acetaminophen in it,” she says before stirring some applesauce. “You need to eat all of this so I know it’s in you. It will help coat your mouth and throat so I can get some Tamiflu in you too.”
“Does she still need the IVs?” Graham asks.
“Yes. She will need th
em at least for another 48 hours. Open up,” she says and I comply, wincing slightly when it goes down my throat, burning the rawness.
“Emelia.” Graham prompts me awake. “You need to eat all of this.”
“Here, Graham. You feed her while I get a new bag of fluids.” Ruth hands him the applesauce before standing.
Graham takes a seat at the edge of the bed. He stirs the applesauce in a nervous move before he lifts the spoon to my mouth. “Eat.” He demands when I sit there.
“I don’t think I want anymore,” I tell him, closing my eyes.
“Emelia. You don’t have a choice.” He puts the spoon in my mouth. I eventually swallow it, but it’s only in my stomach a minute before I feel it coming back up.
“I need up.” I try to move but can’t.
“Just use this,” Graham says, putting a small container under my chin, just in time to catch the applesauce that comes back up. My body convulses for several minutes until I start to dry heave.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
He looks around apprehensively, like he’s afraid to touch me, but finally wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the bed and carrying me into the bathroom.
“Don’t,” he says when I try to nuzzle into him. Sitting me down on the toilet he squats in front of me, his hands on my knees ensuring I’m not going to fall over.
“Why not?” I ask without opening my eyes.
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“The only way to move forward is for you to tell me, Graham.” I look up at him, but he’s a little blurry. “Did I pee yet?” My question brings a slight rise to his lips.
“Not yet, baby. You’re dehydrated, so it might take a minute.” He leans down and kisses my knee. “I’ll tell you when.” I nod.
“Okay,” he says, lifting me off the toilet.
“I need to wipe.”
“I did it for you.”
“Aww, I missed it.” I’m thrilled when he chuckles.
“You are so weird.”
“I’ve missed your laugh,” I tell him, resting my head against his shoulder, but respecting his earlier request.
“I’ve missed your everything.”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Did she have much output?” Ruth asks as we enter the bedroom, taking the IV bag from Graham’s hand and putting it back up on the make shift IV pole.
“No, and she threw up her applesauce.”
“I’m going to give her an IV bolus with some nausea medication and acetaminophen in it. It will make her sleep, and it will hopefully stop the vomiting. If it doesn’t work, I think we should admit her. I’ll stay here tonight. I’ve had my office cover my appointments for tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he says before kissing me on the bridge of my nose. It’s the last thing I remember.
Opening my eyes, I test my leg. It follows the command my brain is sending it. I slide it off the edge of the bed and eventually work my way into a sitting position.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Graham stands from a chaise he is resting on in the corner of the room.
“You look like death,” I tell him.
“You know what it does when you say sweet shit to me.”
I chuckle and he kisses the bridge of my nose. “I have to pee. Bad.” I grasp his hand and try to stand, but he lifts me instead. Grabbing my IV bag, he takes me to the bathroom.
“I don’t know which makes me happier. Hearing you pee or hearing you laugh,” he says.
“It feels good to pee. I was dreaming I was. I kept thinking if I don’t wake up, I’m going to wet the bed.”
“Worse things can happen.” He runs his fingers through my hair before placing his hand on my forehead. “I think your fever has finally broken.” I see the relief on his face.
“How long did I sleep?”
“You’ve slept more than 48 hours straight. I carried you in here late yesterday, but you still weren’t having any output. Mom and Matt will be happy.”
“Are they here?”
“Matt is. Mom stayed the first night, and Matt stayed last night.”
I put my hand out to stop him. “I think I can stand. I’d like to brush my teeth.”
“Good. Your breath is kickin’.” He places the first kiss to my lips in three days. Keeping his arm around me, he helps me through the motions. He brushes my hair while I brush my teeth.
“I don’t remember the last time I showered.”
“I bathed you after we found you passed out. You had vomit in your hair.”
“I have no memory of that, but thank you.”
“In you go,” he says when we make it back to the bed.
“You’re not getting in with me?”
“I’m going to get Matt.”
“How you feeling?” Matt asks, entering the room in front of Graham. He examines me to make sure I’m moving in the direction he wants me to. “One more IV dose and you should be okay to move to a liquid diet.”
Matt’s prediction is correct. I’m tolerating liquids the next day and start working actual food in the following. Recovering has been a catch-22. I’m relieved to feel better, but the better I feel, the more Graham distances himself.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I tell Jules. A week has gone by and I feel more like myself. “Jackson was updating me on how things are going earlier and if Graham wants to know I’m okay, he can check on me. You are not to play double agent.”
“I’m not. I’m pissed at Graham.”
“Don’t be. There’s something going on with him that has nothing to do with this or with me.”
“That’s what Adam thinks. He says he hasn’t seen Graham like this since he came home from the war. He’s concerned. All of the Taylor’s are. They have that luxury. I don’t. I want to make sure you are taken care of,” she says protectively.
“I am. Graham has made sure of it. You have plenty to do today. I’ll be fine. I might go for a run. How is Addie?”
“She and I spent part of the day yesterday together. She’s the same.”
“I wish they would clear me to see her. It’s weird. In my heart and in my head I know she isn’t in her body anymore, but I find it comforting to know she is where I can go see her whenever I want.”
“That makes perfect sense to me. You should be okay to see her in a couple of days. Don’t you think you should give it another day before you start running again?”
“I’ll take it slow, but I’m going stir crazy, and I only have a couple of more weeks before the race. If I don’t keep at it, I won’t be able to run.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“Now I know you’re guarding me. You hate running. Teague will run with me. He’s gotten used to it.”
“Okay, Mags. I love you. I’ll call you to check in on you later.”
“Okay. Thanks again.” I hug and kiss her goodbye.
Moving slower than I’d like, I change into my running outfit. Grabbing my sunglasses and a ball cap, I head to Teague’s apartment, but there’s no answer. I decide to walk to the highline and run it. That way I will have plenty of places to rest or reach out to someone if I need to. I’m happy to find there are no paparazzi outside the side door. It’s a cool October day, but the sun is shining and it feels great to be outside. I walk the first few blocks before my legs finally feel like they’ll follow my command to run.
The highline is an old elevated train line that sits about thirty feet in the air and runs about a mile and a half long. It’s a short distance from our apartment. It makes for a beautiful run. The path has been revitalized, and there are lots of green areas and flowers with each season. My run is slow but without any issues. Once I come to the top of the stairs to head down from the highline, my body begins to protest a little and I know I’ve pushed it too far. I take a break and sit on an empty bench watching the city around me. Stretching I decide to walk it home instead of run. I’m able to get in the back entrance again undetected.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Graham bellows, entering the bathroom as I’m putting my hair dryer away. He’s pissed, looking every bit of the sexy CEO in his dark suit.
“Running.”
“Running? Without your phone? Without your tracker? Without even a note as to where you were?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I did leave a note, and I tried Teague before I left but he was gone. I knew I wouldn’t be long.”
“We’re going to settle this once and for all.” He says loosening his tie and taking off his jacket. “There are rules where your safety is concerned and I expect you to obey them.” He rolls up his shirt sleeves before he tugs on my hand, pulling me across his lap as he sits on the bed. Before I know what is happening, he has untied my robe and lands a loud and powerful slap on my ass.
“Ouch! What the hell?”
Another jarring slap!
“Emelia, I will not concede where your safety is concerned. Do you understand?”
Slap!
“I just went for a run. I don’t understand what the big deal is?”
Slap!
“Dammit! That stings!” I shimmy on his lap, trying to free myself. He takes the tie from my robe and wraps it around my hands, keeping me in place.
Slap!
“Sit still,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’m just getting started.”
Slap! Slap!
“Why do you fight me on your safety?”
Slap!
“It’s the one place we came to an agreement and yet we find ourselves back here again.” A need starts to unfold deep in my belly. How is that possible?
Slap!
“Tell me, Emelia!”
“Tell you what?”
Slap!
“That you won’t continue to push the boundaries of your safety.”
Slap!
He’s placing them in different spots, the only relief afforded to me.
