Page 54 of My Merry Mistake
“We’re here,” the female paramedic calls from the driver’s seat.
Barnes starts to shift. This is real. They’re going to take me inside and draw my blood and do tests and scan my insides and God-knows-what else, and what if something is really wrong?
The inevitability of it scares me. This is all out of my control, and I hate it.
“I don’t think the tests are necessary,” I say, starting to get a bit of my energy back. “My headache is practically gone.”
It’s not, but do they really need to know that?
“Raya,” Finn says. “You’re not getting out of this.”
“I can refuse treatment.”
“No,” he says. “You can’t. I know you’re used to being in charge, but please, for once in your life, you’re going to have to listen to someone else.”
I snap my jaw shut.
It’s not like Finn to be decisive and bossy, but it’s not a side of him I’ve never seen. It reminds me of the day after we met, when he showed up at my apartment with the credit card I’d left behind.
He took care of me that day too.
I didn’t remember everything that had happened at the bar, but I remembered enough. My big screw-up at work. Getting fired for the first, and only, time in my life. And then the nail in the proverbial coffin—finding out my longtime ex had gotten engaged. To my sister’s high school bully. It was a perfect storm of awful, and I didn’t respond well.
And Finn had a front-row seat to it all.
All at once, a wave of fear rolls through me.
I look at him, panicked. “What if something is really wrong?” The shaky question leaves me feeling more vulnerable than I’m ever comfortable being.
He squeezes my hand in both of his. “What if it’s all okay?”
I don’t respond, but the mental shift calms my worry.
The back door opens, and the EMTs pull me out and wheel me into the emergency room. Finn follows, but we’re intercepted by my parents, who rush out of the waiting area the second they see me.
“How did you get here so fast?” I ask, signing the words, as the nausea worsens.
“We were in the city,” Mom says, signing the words to draw my father into the conversation. “Early Christmas shopping.”
“I’m sorry, folks, we’ve got to get her back to do some tests. We’ll let you know as soon as you can come back.”
My mom grabs my hand. There’s panic in her eyes.
I squeeze her hand. “I’m okay, Mom. Don’t worry.”
Her expression holds, and I hate it. I’m the one who doesn’t cause trouble. I never want that to change. She doesn’t need to be worrying about me.
As they wheel me away, my last image is of my parents standing with Finn, all looking worried. As the doors behind me begin to swing shut, I see Finn reach up and place a hand on my mom’s shoulder.
Nobody needs to worry about me.
I can take care of myself.
I always take care of myself.
Chapter Fourteen
Finn
