Page 5 of Must Love Hockey
“And now you need to go to the emergency room,” Doc’s voice breaks in. “Everyone who self-doses should see a doctor afterward. They have to make sure there isn’t a second wave to the reaction after the epinephrine wears off.”
Emily leans back against the locker, her eyes closed. She puts a hand to her heart.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she whispers. “I’m just trying not to panic.”
“Would you like some water?” I offer, straightening up.
To my surprise, she grabs my hand. “Don’t go anywhere.”
Okay, then. The lady gets what the lady wants. I sit down beside her again. “Do me a favor, though? Look at me, so I can tell if you’re getting better or worse.”
Her beautiful eyes blink open. They’re a deep brown color, and they’re focused on me. “Better, I think.” She takes a deep breath. “My throat doesn’t feel so thick anymore. The sensation is so strange, though. Like I can feel the drug moving through my bloodstream.”
“Isn’t it trippy?” Wilson agrees cheerfully.
“Yousoundbetter,” Doc says. “Kids, get to the ER, okay?”
“Will do,” I promise Doc.
“Who’s gonna finish loading all this gear, though?” a female voice calls out.
I look up and see Heidi Jo, the GM’s assistant, smirking at me. “Well, Dirk and…” I’m not sure who I can ask to bail me out.
“Just kidding, Jimbo. Who’s a gullible boy? Dirk and I are already mostly done.” Heidi Jo skips off toward the loading dock, a giant hockey bag on her shoulder. And Dirk—the new guy—follows her with two more bags. He just started with us this month, and he still looks a little overwhelmed by the chaos of game night.
Wilson rests a hand on my arm. “She looks better already. Her lips aren’t as swollen.”
I turn back to Emily and see that he’s right. “That stuff is miraculous.”
“Nice goal tonight,” Emily says, blinking up at Wilson. “This is very surreal. Maybe I’m dreaming it.”
Wilson laughs. “Drop by anytime. But I better refill my prescription first. Give this to the ER doc, okay?” Whistling, he hands over the empty EpiStick and then heads back toward the dressing room.
“Where’s the nearest ER? Methodist, right?” I ask as I wake up my phone one-handed. Emily is still clutching my other hand. I’m trying not to notice how smooth her fingers feel against my skin.
“Methodist,” Emily agrees with a sigh. “I don’t want to go there.”
“I’ll bet. But Doc said you had to. And I promised.” I stand up. “Come on. Your driver is waiting.”
“Uber will be pricey. You have to let me pay you back.”
“It’s not an Uber,” I say. “I’m your driver in this situation. The van smells like hockey gear, but there’s no charge.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Of course I’m sure.” If I was having an odd and terrifying health problem, I’d want someone to drive me to the ER.
Tonight, Emily’s someone is me.
“Right this way, Emily.” I tug on her hand, and she stands, looking a little wobbly. “All right.” I put an arm around her waist, which would seem really forward at any other moment.
She leans against me as we navigate back up the ramp and out the loading dock. I help her into the van’s front seat, and I crank down the window. “Sit tight for a few minutes while I get the last of the stuff. Yell if you don’t feel well.”
“Honestly, I feel a lot better,” she says. “Take your time.”
I jog back inside and do a last sweep for any equipment that’s been left behind. Then Dirk and I carry the last of it outside and toss it into the van.
