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My phone chimes, and because it’s connected to my car, the text gets read out through the speakers.
“Hey Carter, just wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to come over later. I’m really sorry, but I fainted at work and I have to stay here a few more hours.”
I’m thankful that the road is empty because I swear my vision goes white for a moment as I process what she’s just told me—that she fainted, that she's hurt, that she’s still at the hospital.
Angela needs me.
I fucking floor it.
I pullinto the parking lot of the hospital a mere twenty minutes later, tires screeching.
Normally, I’m calm in a crisis. I make plans. I consider the options and outcomes with little emotion and without panicking. I’m pretty sure I’d thrive during the apocalypse, and I always carry a first aid kit with me.
But from the moment I hear Angela is hurt to the moment I get to the door of the ER, my heart is pounding and I can’t think straight. I keep thinking of ways I might be able to help her and then tossing them out because I’m not a fucking doctor, and this is a situation where I truly have no idea what I’m doing.
As I walk into the ER, I’m reminded of the fact that Angela is surrounded by doctors. And she knows exactly what to do for herself in a situation like this. She’s the most competent person I know, and I’m sure she’s the best damn nurse in the entire hospital. Hell, in the entire damn state.
I walk up to the desk and wait a few minutes before someone is able to help me, and I use that time to steady myself with a few deep breaths. By the time the receptionist asks me what I need, I feel okay.
“I’m here to see my girlfriend,” I say. “She works here, but she texted me that she fainted so I want to check in on her.”
“What’s her name?” the receptionist asks.
“Angela Burns.”
The nurse who has been standing behind the desk looking intently at a chart gasps and suddenly looks up at me.
“You must be Carter!” she says. “Angela has told me so much about you over the last few days. It’s so sweet that you came! I’m Aline.”
“Is she okay?” I ask, anxiety rushing through me once more.
“She’ll be okay,” Aline says. “One of the doctors is checking her over right now.”
“Can I see her? I know I’m not family but?—”
“You can come back with me, and if Angela says she wants to see you, then you can,” Aline tells me. “Mags, I’m gonna take him back to see Angela, and then I’ll come help you some more,” she tells the receptionist, who simply nods and starts talking to the next person in line. I get the sense that everyone at this hospital is a bit overworked at the moment.
Aline leads me into the ER, and we walk past bed after bed sectioned off with curtains. At the end of the row, she stops.
“Ange, you have a visitor,” she calls out.
“He can come in,” she says.
I push aside the curtain and find her propped up in bed, an IV in her arm. A doctor is sitting on a chair next to her, looking at something on a computer.
“How’d you know it was me?” I ask.
“You’ve got overprotective written all over you, Steel. You keep rations in your backpack, and are always offering me extra layers.” She gives me a wry smile.
“What happened?” I ask, sitting on a chair by her bed.
“I fainted from dehydration,” she says flatly. “And exhaustion. I finished with a patient and started walking over to check on someone else, and I just collapsed.”
The image flashes through my mind and I wince. “Are you alright? You didn’t hit your head or anything?”
“I did,” she tells me. “But not very hard. I feel fine.”
I feel my hands start to shake.
