Page 9 of Cautious Love

My head hurts, but I know it’s just the head wound. It’s the shortness of breath that’s bothering me. He had his steel toe boots on.

Shit.

The longer I drive, the harder it is to breathe. I have to go to the hospital, but the clinic is closer.

Turning towards downtown, I drive as fast as I can and pray to God to get me there because I’m not sure I’m going to make it before passing out.

But somehow, I pull into a spot right in front of the clinic. They recently got an emergency wing put in.

I park my car, grab my purse, and take a deep, painful breath. I’ll walk in here and I’ll walk out.

I limp through the sliding doors and lean against the counter. “Hi, uh, I need help,” I tell the lady I think is Tatum Hayes behind the desk. My vision is blurry, so she could have a twin I’ve never seen before.

She looks up, and her eyes widen on me. I smile, but then the room goes sideways and the only thing I can see are those ugly nurse clogs. Why do people wear those?

“Duncan! Duncan! Bring a stretcher!” Tatum yells.

“I don’t need a stretcher, tell me where to go,” I mumble.

“No, honey, you need a stretcher.”

I grunt as I’m lifted onto a soft bed. Man, this feels nice. “Just patch me up. I have to get to work.”

“Shiloh, right?” she asks. “You’re not going anywhere,” she says, and I feel her icy fingers on my abdomen.

“Possible broken rib based on bruising, laceration to the head, top right temple. Lacerations on the inside of the mouth.”

“Shiloh, did you get into a fight?” she asks.

I mumble, but even I don’t understand myself.

“Okay, we can figure that out later. Let’s get you patched up, but you need to keep your eyes open, okay? You could have a concussion, so I need you to stay awake.”

I groan as they slip my shoes off and cut my uniform off me. “Mrs. Bradford is going to be pissed,” I mumble.

I feel like a rag doll as they gently undress me and cover me as they inspect my body. I want to sleep so badly.

“Stay with me, Shiloh,” Tatum says.

“Just let me close my eyes for a minute,” I say.

“Not yet, hun,” she says.

I groan and keep them open, as they roll me to a machine.

By the time they do their testing, poking, and prodding, and stick me with needles. I’m lying in a hospital bed and I can hear my phone ringing. It’s probably Greer wondering where I am for my shift.

“I’m going to silence your phone,” Tatum says.

“Can you answer it and tell them I’m not going to make it in?” I ask her.

She nods and slides it open. “Hello?”

“Yes, she’s uh … she can’t make it to the phone.”

“This is Tatum Hayes, and no, she’s not going to make it in for work … for a few days.”

“Why? Uh …” Tatum glances at me and then back at her feet.