Page 52 of My Merry Mistake
“Raya, we’re going to move you onto the stretcher,” Doctor Marshall says.
I nod. “Where’s Finn?”
“I’m still here,” he says from somewhere in the room.
“My family . . .” I say this as they help me onto the stretcher, and once I’m settled, they move me out into the hallway like a wedding cake being wheeled into a dance hall. I feel ridiculous.
I’m sure this is an overreaction. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m exhausted. It’s been a long couple of months and a lot of long hours. I just need?—
Finn is beside me again. He takes my hand and walks with the stretcher as they push me out the door and down the hall. “I called your sister.”
“Which one?” I say, my voice a whisper.
He smirks. “Poppy.”
I nod. He’s been around enough to know that Eloise is the dramatic one. Poppy is much more level-headed. Situations like this call for a level head.
We’re in the elevator.
I press on my lip. I felt that—kind of like feeling something through four sets of gloves. “It feels a little better now.”
The EMT nods. “That’s good. How’s the vision?”
I look at him, then at the other EMT. “Darkness is still there, but more of a dull gray now. It’s weird.” I look at Finn, whose gaze is still fixed on me.
The EMT nods. His nametag says “Barnes,” and I absently wonder what his first name is.
“You’re going to be okay,” Finn says, but I can see that he’s putting on a brave face. I see the concern in his eyes.
I close mine, and it feels good to not have to use them for a minute.
I think about the little white box of chocolate. His teasing is harmless. I can handle that and brush it off.
His kindness, though, is much more difficult to ignore.
We reach the ground floor, and they wheel me out to the ambulance. I hate it. I hate that I’m being carted around on a bedwith wheels. I drag my gaze over to Finn, who’s walking beside the stretcher, looking a little unsure.
“You don’t have to ride to the hospital with me,” I say, assuming he’s looking for an out. After all, it wasn’t his fault he happened to be there for my “episode” or whatever this is.
I look at Finn. “I’m already feeling better.” I want to erase that line of worry etched across his forehead.
Never mind the tingling in the tips of my fingers. Or the tipsy vision. Or the dull, persistent, thick ache behind my eyes. Or the fact that I currently feel like someone is scraping out my eye sockets with a fork.
“I know,” he says. “But I’m going to anyway.”
This is becoming a trend.
“Finn, seriously, I’m?—”
“Do you have a sedative?” he asks the EMT. “Anything to shut her up?”
Barnes chuckles to himself as he and the other EMT move the stretcher into position to lift me up into the ambulance. Before they do, I level my gaze at Finn. “You really don’t have to come. It’ll be such a waste of your time.”
Why am I pushing this? I don’t know how long it’ll take my family to get there.
Barnes opens the back door to the ambulance, and Finn meets my eyes. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
The words settle something inside me.
