Page 10 of Wild

"You have nice hands."

Erin ignores her again.

"You'll probably be spending the night at the hospital," she says, jotting something down on Mia's intake form.

"I don't want to spend the night at the hospital," the singer protests.

"Nobody usually does, but it's what's best for you."

"Don't you want to know what I'd prefer?" she asks, genuinely thrown.

Erin almost laughs. She'll admit the girl is persistent, and she has no doubt her moves work, because she barely has to try to get attention. For a moment Erin actually lets herself picture what would happen if she decided to play along, and the shiver that runs down her spine is sharp enough to travel all the way to the tips of her ears.

"As my patient, everything about you interests me," Erin replies. "As a person, honestly? Not really."

Mia goes completely still for a moment, head tilted just slightly, watching the doctor with something close to surprise, as if this is the first time her moves haven't landed on the first try. She doesn't look offended—to Erin, that seems worse, because Mia is looking at her the way someone looks at a game they've just discovered they can't win and have immediately decided to make their next challenge.

"Fair enough, Dr. Dooley," she says finally, and goes back to staring at the ceiling of the ambulance while she starts answering Erin's questions about her daily routine—whether she eats well, gets enough rest, whether she's under a lot of stress.

At first Mia resists, but she finds herself being honest with every question that comes out of the doctor's mouth.

"Drugs?" Erin asks.

Mia drops her eyes from the ceiling and looks at her.

"The occasional joint. You can ask Noah if you don't believe me."

"Why wouldn't I believe you?"

The singer stares at her for a second, thrown, then shrugs.

The hospital they arrive at is the same one where Erin works. It's not the closest one to Madison Square Garden, but it's the closest that MediSupport has a contract with, and since the patient wasn't critical, that's the protocol. Erin's grateful for it because she knows almost everyone on the ER staff.

Mia's gurney enters through a separate entrance given the patient's public profile, but that doesn't mean she's getting any special treatment.

"Dooley," Hassan says when he sees her, surprised. "Didn't know you were working tonight."

Erin points to the company logo on her polo shirt and shrugs.

"Event coverage, man," she says as Barry keeps pushing the gurney.

"Got it." He smiles. "What've you got for me?"

"Patient is Mia Wilder, twenty-six. Syncopal episode mid-performance. Bradycardic pulse on arrival, regained consciousness with a post-syncope panic attack."

Hassan glances at Mia and does his best to keep a straight face, even though his fourteen-year-old twins are going to lose their minds when they find out he was the attending for their favorite singer. Barry and an orderly wheel Mia into an ER bay while Hassan and Erin hang back in the hall, Noah a couple of steps behind them.

"History? What do you know?" Hassan asks.

"Four or five similar episodes in the past few months. Diagnosed by her entourage as dehydration." Hassan's mouth drops open.

"Who diagnosed her?"

"Doesn't matter." Erin would rather not think about it. "The presentation is consistent with recurrent vasovagal syncope. Fits her situation: constant stress, caloric deficit, chronic sleep deprivation. Impossible schedules, pushed to the limit."

Hassan nods.

"Got it. I'll order a blood panel, ECG, twenty-four-hour Holter, and a tilt table test if everything else comes back clean."