Page 128 of Can't Get Enough

I don’t say it, but it’s all I can think about; how him holding me would be such a comfort right now. How hearing him call meGorgeousand feeling his strong arms around me might trick my heart into believing, even if for just a few minutes, that everything will be all right.

I tell Bolt everything I know, which isn’t much. I don’t need Maverick todoanything. I just want to hear his voice.

“He has maybe another hour here,” Bolt says. “But I’ll tell him as soon as he gets offstage.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s an understatement to say he’s made it clear that you are a… priority.” A hint of rare humor enters Bolt’s voice. “I like my job, so I’ll always get you through.”

My first smile since Mama collapsed lifts my lips and my heart, which has felt like a stone in my chest these last few hours. I glance up to see a doctor down the hall. I’m the only one in the waiting room and he trains his gaze on me.

“Bolt, the doctor’s here. I need to go.”

“Keep us posted.”

“Hendrix Barry?” the doctor asks, his brows raised.

“Yes, my mother’s Elizabeth Barry. How is she?”

“I’m Dr. Katz. We have her blood pressure down a little, but want to keep her for a few days.”

“Days? You said she’s stable, right? Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I can tell you some, yes.” He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up his nose. “You’re not down as someone who has access to her medical records, so legally there’s a limit on what I can share with you.”

“What?” My eyes widen and I clench my fists at my side. “She’s my mother. I rode in the ambulance with her. Of course you can tell me everything. I need to know every single thing.”

“HIPAA laws—”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I grip my braids, hoping they’ll give me something to hold on to before I completely lose my shit.

“I can tell you that this was a hypertensive crisis. Her blood pressure was 180 over 120, which is very dangerous. Could have led to a heart attack or stroke.”

“But she’s better now? Normal range?”

“Still elevated.” He watches me over the rims of his glasses. “With her levels that high, we need to monitor her a few days to ensure there was no organ damage.”

“Oh, my God.” I shove my fingers into the pockets of my jeans, giving them somewhere to go.

“I can’t talk with you about specific medications or treatments. John Barry and Geneva Johnson are both down to have access to her medical records.”

“My father, John, is deceased,” I say sharply. “And my aunt Geneva is at home on bedrest recovering from surgery. So there’s only me. Are you aware my mother has Alzheimer’s?”

“I did see that in her record, but Idon’tsee where she has signed power of attorney over to anyone else. She is still legally in command of these decisions.”

“But she is not a reliable source for many of the answers to your questions, like if she has taken her meds or how she’s been feeling.”

“I hear you, but we don’t have legal paperwork on file indicating she is incompetent. Just because someone has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s doesn’t automatically mean they’re at the stage where they can’t make decisions for themselves anymore.” He pauses. “And do you know those things for certain? About her meds or how she’s been feeling?”

Not only do I not know if she’s taken them, but I don’t even know what they are yet. Shame washes over me and I lower my eyes.

How do I not know everything?

“I suggest we go see your mother,” Dr. Katz continues when I don’t answer right away, his tone careful like he doesn’t want to rouse meagain. “If she says it’s fine to speak freely in front of you, I’ll go through everything. She can even fill out the paperwork right there in the room giving you access. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah.” I nod and bite my bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “That’s a great idea.”

When we open the door, I almost sink to my knees. Mama looks so frail in the hospital bed, tubes flowing from her arms, skin dull and eyes sunken.

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