Total pages in book: 12
Estimated words: 10791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 54(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 36(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 10791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 54(@200wpm)___ 43(@250wpm)___ 36(@300wpm)
“Oh, please do go on.” I was positively beaming at this point. “Not everyone would agree. I get friend-zoned a lot. My game on the apps is shit, and my game in person at bars or clubs is even worse.”
“Then stop playing games.” He rolled his eyes like it was that easy to find someone to get serious with.
“I’m trying.” I gave him the most pointed of looks, holding his gaze until he let out a loud huff.
“What if we date and it goes badly?”
“What if it goes well?” I countered with every ounce of optimism I possessed. “What if this is the last first date either of us goes on?”
I ended on a passionate note right in time for a knock to sound above us, seconds before a hatch in the elevator ceiling opened.
“Coming in.” An older medic, maybe in his mid-forties, lowered himself into the elevator on a harness attached to climbing ropes with a medical bag on his back. “Hi. I’m Eric, and I’m a paramedic. Which of you has diabetes?”
“Me.” Marshall held up his phone. “Usually, I stay stable with my continuous monitor and insulin pump, but I can’t get a reading on the app, and something’s felt off all day. I thought it was simply nerves for a court appearance, but now I’m wondering if my meds are working. Sandwich helped though.”
“Excellent.” Eric was already busy checking Marshall’s vital signs, like oxygen and blood pressure, working quickly with efficient movements. “The firefighters are working on coasting the elevator to the next floor. If they can’t, we’ll take you both out through the hatch.”
I frowned up at the ceiling. Unlike Eric and Marshall, I was the opposite of lean and lanky. “I won’t fit. But you can take Marshall now. I’ll wait.”
“You will not.” Marshall made an indignant noise. “Besides, I’m fine now.”
“Actually, I’m not the happiest with your blood sugar reading.” Eric looked up from the small handheld monitor he’d used after pricking Marshall’s finger. “What have you eaten today besides the sandwich?”
“I was in a hurry. Coffee. Toast with peanut butter? I think. I remember making it, at least.”
“What if you forgot to eat it?” I suggested, already prepared to renew my offer to stay behind so Eric could rescue Marshall. However, before either could reply, the elevator gave a massive jolt. “We’re moving!”
The elevator jerked again, pushing us against the wall before the doors were pried open by two firefighters.
“Excellent work, Sean.” Eric nodded at the older of the two firefighters. “I knew your crew would come through.”
“Never in doubt.” The younger firefighter had an appealing, cocky grin.
“I’d like to bring you in for further monitoring,” Eric said as he helped Marshall up and out of the elevator, guiding him to a waiting gurney. Tennessee’s fiancé, Tate, an EMT, stepped to Marshall’s other side, urging him to sit.
“That’s a good idea, Marshall.” I used an encouraging tone. As much as I wanted to continue our conversation, I wanted him taken care of more. “You should listen to Eric.”
“Hey, Rory.” Tate nodded at me. “You’re welcome to ride with your friend or meet us there.”
“If he wants.” I turned back to Marshall, who had finally taken a seat on the gurney. He still looked far too pale and sweaty for my liking. “I’ll wait for you, Marshall.”
I meant the words on multiple levels. I’d wait here if that was what he wanted or wait at the ER. And I could wait for him to decide whether or not to take a risk on dating. After all, I’d already waited all these many months. Marshall was well worth my patience.
Chapter Four
Marshall
“The ambulance crew was right. Your insulin pump malfunctioned.” The emergency department at Mount Hope Hospital was crowded with a long wait to see this kindly but overworked nurse practitioner. He was a big bear of a forty-something guy, but he held my pump in a surprisingly delicate grip. I had a newer model insulin pump controlled via an app on my phone. “Possibly, it stopped getting data from your glucose monitor, or maybe a phone issue. You’re lucky you weren’t alone when your blood sugar crashed.”
“Yeah. I am pretty lucky.” I couldn’t believe I was saying that about getting stuck in an elevator, but things could have been worse. “And lucky Rory had a sandwich.”
“Indeed. Be sure to thank Rory for the rest of us.” The nurse practitioner clicked around on his tablet, mouth pursing as he muttered. Apparently unhappy with whatever he was looking up, he shook his head, returning his attention to me and the ER exam bed where I sat. “Have you managed your diabetes without the pump before?”
“Of course. I was diagnosed at seven. I’ve had a variety of different management medications and pumps over the years.”
“Good. I’m reluctant to have you put a new pump on if the phone app isn’t working right or the dose isn’t calibrated correctly. You’re going to want to get in with your endocrinologist ASAP. In the meantime, you can go with old-school monitoring and meds until the specialist can sort out your pump. I can write you some prescriptions.”