Page 81 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

She shoots me a confused look as I grab her suitcase and start towards the door.

“I’m driving you to Chicago.”

“Ryan, you can’t. It’s an eight-hour drive.”

“I know,” I say. I googled it while she was changing. “But you’ll never make it to Charlotte in time and there’s slim to none chance that you’re getting on standby in Knoxville, which means you won’t leave until Monday. Driving is your best bet right now.”

“Okay, I’ll drive myself then. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Jesus, this woman is stubborn.

“Look, Marlow, I get it – you can take care of yourself. I’ve never met someone so capable of taking care of themselves in my entire life. But just because you can doesn’t mean that you have to. It’s okay to let people help, and I’m telling you that Iwantto help.”

“O-okay,” she relents shakily.

Honestly, I’ll tie her up and throw her in the backseat of her own car before I let her drive herself across three states right now.

We take her car because I know she’ll be more comfortable riding in her luxury sedan than on the bench seat of my truckfor eight hours straight. After a quick stop at my house to change and pack a few items, we set off towards Chicago.

It’s a long fucking drive. I keep hoping that Marlow will doze off for a while, but she just stares quietly out the window. When we stop for gas, I buy her some peanut butter crackers and a protein bar. I know she’s been working on the party all morning and probably skipped breakfast. Lunch, too. But she barely touches the crackers. I offer to stop for a real meal, but she just shakes her head. At least she finishes off the water bottle I bought for her.

When we arrive at the hospital in Chicago, Marlow practically sprints out of the car. The eight-hour drive did absolutely nothing to quell her nerves. I follow her inside, where we stop at the front desk and talk to a gray-haired man wearing a badge that simply says: Roger, Volunteer.

“I’m here to see Rosemary Stephens. She’s in the ICU, I think,” Marlow says.

Roger’s pleasant smile fades as he clears his throat. “I’m sorry, miss. Visiting hours are over for the day, but you’re welcome to come back tomorrow between nine a.m. and six p.m.”

Marlow’s posture slumps beside me, exhausted and defeated. Roger looks genuinely sorry to deliver the news. His eyes flick between Marlow and me, his brow crinkled as if to ask if she’s okay.

“Is there any way they might make an exception? We drove here all the way from Tennessee to see her tonight,” I say.

Roger sighs and picks up the phone on his desk. “Let me see what I can do,” he says with a reassuring smile.

A few minutes later, we’re being escorted to the ICU by a very fast walking nurse who tells us that only one of us is allowed inside the room and only for ten minutes. I find a spot out of the way to lean against the wall and wait.

At the nearby nurses’ station, a blonde in purple scrubs types away at her computer while slowly rolling her neck from side to side to release some tension. When I catch her eye, she straightens up a little and gives me an exhausted attempt at a smile.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” I say.

“Sure,” she says warily, like she’s been asked this before right before someone tried to show her a weird mole on their ass. Actually, that’s probably exactly what happened.

“There’s a hotel across the street, but I didn’t catch the name…” I’d been too distracted trying to follow the signs for the hospital.

“That’s the Ridgeland Hotel,” she says.

“Perfect, thanks.”

“No problem,” she smiles again as she goes back to typing.

I pull up the hotel on my phone and book a room. The last thing either of us needs right now is to drive around town looking for a place to stay. The place across the street looked pretty nice, and for the price of a room there, it had better be.

Marlow steps out of her mom’s room exactly ten minutes later. She stops to thank the nurse before joining me near the nurses’ station. She looks a little lighter than she did when we first got here, but she also looks like she’s ready to collapse from exhaustion.

“How is she?” I ask, tilting my chin towards her mom’s room.

“Still in critical condition. She was pretty out of it when I was in there. They have her on some meds that keep her somewhat sedated. I think she knew it was me though.”

“I’m sure she did,” I say.

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