Page 66 of Doc Defence

“You’re doing the coaching.” Hel shoved the lunch box into the Burra Wombats bag Frost gave her to use, as he hated her only having a reusable shopping bag.

Maybe he should give her a jersey as well, one with his name and number on the back. He put the brakes on the thought. She wasn’t his and wouldn’t be wearing his ice hockey jersey. Frost’s thoughts turned a bit maudlin, and he wouldn’t be wearing them anymore either.

Running his hand through his clammy hair, he sighed. He needed to phone the landlord and ask them to check the air conditioning.

He pulled his wayward thoughts back to the conversation with the redhead in front of him, who was now the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, as the more time he spent with her, the more he liked her. Despite the fact he was leaving, he couldn’t stop himself, and since the pub quiz, when she wasn’t working a late shift, he made sure he spent every evening he could with her, cooking her dinner and then finding a movie for them to watch together.

“Yeah. I’m enjoying it. But it’s only a few hours a week. I’ve never not had anything to do all day. Cooking for you is stopping me from going insane.” Frost gave a self-deprecating grin.

Hel grinned in return. “Who am I to turn down a handsome man who loves to cook!” She instantly flushed bright red. She clearly hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Frost ignored it and carried on as they usually would in the morning, checking his watch. “Aren’t you going to be late?”

“Oh shit. I am. See you later. Have a good day.” Hel leaned toward him as she passed, then her eyes widened, and she rushed out.

Frost’s heart raced. For a second, he thought she might kiss him on the cheek, and if she did, he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t have moved his head slightly so her lips met his instead of his cheek.

He stood alone in the kitchen, pulling his shirt away from his body and fanning his clammy skin with it. He was going to be on the phone as soon as the rental office opened. Something was definitely wrong with the climate control of the house.

He pottered around the kitchen for a while, cleaning and tidying, then meal prepping for dinner. When he was done, he grabbed his crutches and hopped his way back upstairs to the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, he was surprised by the reflection looking back at him. He was pale and sweating, but his cheeks were flushed red. The short walk up the stairs, which he usually did multiple times an hour on his crutches, exhausted him. His head felt muzzy and started to pound.

Shit, he was getting sick. Maybe he had the flu? But the ache in his leg, which was worse than it had been since his surgery, suggested something different. Shit. Should he go to hospital? He wasn’t even sure how to visit primary care here. Shit. Okay, so he needed to think.

Frost swore a bit more to himself before he grabbed his phone and texted Hel.

‘Sorry to bother you at work. I’m not feeling fantastic. Feverish and my bad leg aching. Should I come to the hospital?’

He flopped down on his bed, breathing deeply as waves of chills washed over him. The minutes ticked by, and she didn’t reply. He was feeling worse. Hauling himself to his feet, he stuffed his phone into his pocket and made his way painfully downstairs.

He was catching his breath in the living room when his phone beeped. His movements were slow and uncoordinated as he pulled it out of his pocket.

‘Yes. Come to the Emergency Department. I’ll get them to let me know when you arrive. I’ll see you.’

Frost sagged with relief. He was glad Hel was here, otherwise, he wasn’t sure what he would have done. Calling his family for help would have been useless as they were so far away.

“Okay. Uber, I need to book one.” He fumbled with his phone, his fingers clumsy and ordered one.

Grabbing his house keys, he shoved them in his pocket. Then made his way out the front door, carefully locking up, which was difficult as he was now sweating and shaking, unsure if he was hot, cold or something in between.

The ride to the hospital passed in a blur, and when he arrived the triage nurse was expecting him and loaded him into a wheelchair—which he didn’t even have the energy to object to—and took him straight to a bed.

“Hel will come and see you soon. One of the nurses will come in a couple of minutes to take some obs and some bloods.”

“Thanks.” Frost flopped back on the bed, exhausted.

He usually hated the idea of blood tests, but at this point, he didn’t really care, and when the nurse bustled in and hooked him up to a machine to check his vital signs and took blood, he lay there and felt pathetic.

The nurse assured him Hel—well, she called her Dr Rayleigh—would be there as soon as possible. He lay back and stared up at the ceiling, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

Frost awoke with a start when he heard yelling outside his curtain. Sitting up with interest, he listened as a man screamed at someone. Telling them to go away, but in much less polite language. Then he called someone the C-word and demanded to be given the painkillers he deserved.

“I understand you’re upset, but you can’t carry on like this here. We’ll have to call security and have you removed.”

Frost heaved himself to his feet, grabbing hold of a crutch for balance. The woman’s voice was Hel, and even in his sick state, he would not tolerate anyone screaming at her.

“You bitch. I told you my stomach hurts. I told you the only thing that helps is ketamine, and you offered me Panadol. I need ketamine. I want it NOW!” The screaming increased in intensity.

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