Page 5 of Romancing His Heart
“What do you need?” Ashton asks.
“We still have Preston’s ECG and a portable UltraSound machine in our closet upstairs. Let’s start with those. Sloane, we need to get him undressed and cleaned up as best we can so I can do an exam.”
As Ashton rushes past me with his orders, I realize Emory was also talking to me. I’m taken aback when she orders me to help. Most people ignore me and hope I’ll just go away, but I should have known better. My sister raised me, she knows what I’m capable of, even before I do.
“Got it. I already tried his face, but that seemed to irritate him,” I warn.
“The sedative will give us about twenty minutes. We’ll have to see what Ashton can get for supplies. I can already tell Loki is severely dehydrated, which is why he’s so disoriented, but I need to check for head injuries, too. Have you found where the blood is coming from?”
“My thigh,” Loki croaks, causing both Emory and I to jump back, startled.
“Preston?” I yell. I don’t mean to, but Loki’s a little scary. “Come talk to your friend. Let him know we’re with you, and we’re just taking care of him.”
“I can hear you, sugar,” Loki groans as I lift his shoulder to remove his shirt.
“Yeah, well, you nearly strangled me to death the last time, so I’m going to let your buddy here do the talking for a bit.”
His eyes widen in surprise at my words. His stare is intense and focused solely on me, and it sends a shiver down my spine. As if he can also feel it, the left side of his lip curls just before he nods off again.
“Hey, Loki. It’s me, Preston. Where the hell have you been? I almost died and your ass was MIA. Now that you’re home, we have to get you better so we can take turns kicking the shit out of you.” Preston plays it off as a joke, but there’s no mistaking the undertone of concern.
I hear a commotion in the hallway, and Emory turns just as the crowd from her apartment descends on us. Dexter and Sylvie are at the front of the line trying to enter, but Emory holds up her hand to stop them.
“I’m sorry. I can’t have anyone else in this room. It’s not a sterile environment, and I have no idea what I’m looking at in terms of his care. We’ll keep you all updated, but I’m doing the best I can here. Please, everyone, go back upstairs.”
“My earthly angel. You may have been sent to Preston, but in my heart of hearts, I know you’re here to save another son, too.” Sylvie nods toward Loki with tears in her eyes.
Jesus, talk about pressure! When has anyone other than my sister ever looked at me with such admiration, though?Never, that’s when. I’m the family screwup, the black sheep. Black sheep don’t get the expressions of love that Emory so rightly deserves.
“Mom? Let Dex take you home, okay? I’ll call you with updates, but you don’t need to sit vigil. You’ve been through a lot the last few months.”
Sylvie’s spine goes rigid, and her smile turns into a hard line. “Don’t you dare try to send me away, Preston Westbrook! I’ll be waiting upstairs for an update. I’ll go home when I am good and ready, you hear me?”
“Oooh, someone’s in trouuuble,” Loki slurs.
“I thought you said this would knock him out?” I gape.
“It should have,” Emory says, looking as confused as I’ve ever seen her.
“Excuse me, Mom. Ems, here you go?” Ash squeezes by Sylvie to enter the room. I can see the expression on Sylvie’s face and know she’s about to argue, but thankfully, Dexter guides her out of the room. “They have trained him for … well, let’s just say he’s been trained for everything. A horse tranquilizer wouldn’t stop him.”
“That’s right, Ashy.” Apparently, the sedative doesn’t knock him out, it makes him playful?
“I’m going to need more information than that to treat him, Ashton,” Emory scolds.
He hands her a chart and a bag of supplies.
After peering into the bag for a few moments, she looks up, ashen-faced. “Where did you get these medications, Ash?”
“The agency supplies them.” He doesn’t elaborate, and I can tell he won’t.
Emory opens the folder and scans its contents.
“Holy shit,” she whispers.
When I try to get a peek, she snaps it shut, shaking her head and mumbling about HIPAA laws. I want to argue that we’re in my bedroom, but I notice her concerned face and stop.
“What do you want me to do, sis?”
