Page 90 of Saving His Heart
Sylvie stands immediately.
“Ah, no, the other Mrs. Westbrook. Dr. Camden, hurry, you have to come now.” The woman sounds desperate.
I look between her and Preston. “No, I-I can’t leave him.”
“If you want to save him, you have to come right now, and we have to run.”
I’m not sure I heard correctly, but Easton is lifting me out of bed and standing me on my feet while Colton drags me behind the nurse.
“But, Preston—”
“I’ll be right here until you get back,” Sylvie informs me as the nurse takes off running.
Colton drags me behind him.
Definitely a Westbrook trait, I decide.
Chapter 38
Emory
We run full speed up two flights of stairs, and it’s only then that I realize I don’t have shoes on. The nurse stops outside of a room and tells me to enter, but Colton has to wait outside.
What the fuck is going on?
My hesitation must annoy Colton because he shoves me into the room. As I’m stumbling to catch my balance, Dr. Terry comes into view. I can see someone in the bed behind him, but his upper half is blocked from sight.
No. Do not let this be Loki. Do not let this be Loki.
“Wh—”
“We have to move fast, Emory, if we are going to save Preston. You have left quite an impression on someone, but before we can proceed with the surgery, he requested that you read a letter. You must move fast, Emory. Time is not on our side.”
My head is spinning.
Who did I make an impression on? Why does he keep saying save Preston?
He thrusts an envelope at me, then steps aside.
Mr. T?
Ripping open the envelope, I cry for a new reason.
Dearest Emory,
Thank you for making an old man’s last wish come true …
I’m running through the hospital again, sliding around corners in my stocking feet while Dr. Terry yells for me to come back. Down and down and down the stairs, I just cannot reach Preston’s room fast enough.
Bursting through his door, I’m screaming. Dr. Terry, who is shockingly fast for his age, enters the room shortly after. Everyone is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind, and if they don’t start following orders, I just might.
“Hook him up,” I bark out on winded breathes. “Hook him up the CPAP now. Get him ready for surgery,” I scream at Dr. Terry, who is the only one following my directives.
“Emory, what is—”
I turn in manic circles until my eyes land on the one person I’m looking for. Marching straight for him, I grab his ear and twist until he stands and begins to move out of the room with me.
“Jesus Christ, Emory. Let me go.”
