Page 50 of North

“You’re so hot,” I whisper, brushing his damp hair back.

“So are you, baby,” he rasps, and I’m relieved he’s with it enough to joke. North shifts his big body and rests his head on my lap and without thought, my hand rubs his back. He stills and I watch his shallow breaths.

The waiting room is silent except for the faint murmur of whispers. I glance around and notice people staring, some with their phones out.

Of course. Everyone here knows who he is.

“Relax, superstar,” I murmur, running my fingersthrough his hair. “They’re just fans.”

He grunts softly, too drained to muster a real response.

When they finally call us back, I help North to his feet and into the exam room where I get him on the bed. The nurse takes his temperature a second time and shakes her head. “It’s at 104. You said you gave him Tylenol?”

I nod. “Maybe about three hours ago now.”

“We’ll run a rapid flu and COVID test,” she says, glancing at me. “You might want to wear a mask.”

“I’ve been vaccinated,” I say.

“So was I,” North whines. “Put on a damn mask, Farren.”

I concede and the nurse grabs me one, although whatever he has, I’ve been exposed to it. She swabs his nose and helps me cover him with blankets.

It feels like forever but finally a doctor comes in. He’s young with dark hair sticking up in all directions and thick glasses, reminding me of Harry Potter. He’s kind and charming in a goofy way. “The nurses are all aflutter that we have a professional hockey player in here.”

North smiles weakly. “That’s me.”

“Not feeling great, huh?” the doctor asks, moving to the side of the bed and putting his stethoscope in his ears. “Let me listen to you.”

After a few minutes of checking North out, he says, “Your COVID test is negative, but you did test positive for influenza A. I’d like to get some bloodwork. My guess is you’re also dehydrated, and we can give you fluids to make you feel better.”

“What about the fever?” I ask.

“I’ll add ibuprofen in with the fluids. That will hopefully get it down and we can send you home. I’ll also prescribe you an antiviral medication to help speed the process.”

“As long as I can make the flight out of here today to New York,” North whispers groggily.

My eyes cut to the doctor who is shaking his head. “You’re not able to fly…”

“I’ve got a game tonight. I can’t let my team down.”

“You can’t play,” the doctor says, cutting him off. “You’re highly contagious and you’re running a fever. You’re also dehydrated. There’s no way you’re physically able.”

“Write a note clearing me,” North demands, his stubborn streak showing through the fatigue.

The doctor doesn’t budge. “I can’t in good conscience do that. You’re sitting this one out.”

I put my hand on his shoulder and move closer to him. My mask is in place and I wish I could pull it down so he could see my face, but I don’t want to risk it. “You’re going to have to miss this game, North. You’re too sick.”

North slumps back in the bed, defeated. I feel a pang of sympathy as I reach for his hand. “Hey,” I say softly. “They’ll understand. You need to get better.”

He doesn’t answer, just squeezes my hand weakly.

While we wait for them to get the IV going, North falls into a fitful sleep. I step out of the room and call Rafferty.

It goes to voicemail, but I don’t leave one. Instead, I call again and he answers on the third ring, groggy and disoriented, but cognizant enough to see it’s me on caller ID. “Farren?” he asks thickly.

“Yeah… hey… sorry to call so late, but I’m at the emergency room with North.”

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