Page 196 of Show Me

“Don’t move your head.” Her hands are gentle but efficient as she checks the swelling near my temple. “You’ve got a pretty significant bump.”

“Feels like it, and no, I’m not moving my head.”

“Any dizziness?”

“Yes.”

“Nausea?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Very.”

Jake mutters a curse behind us as Emily exhales. “Alright.” Her expression shifts from friend to EMT. “We’re taking you to the hospital.”

My chest tightens instantly. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. No softness. Just certainty.

And that scares me but not as much as realizing my stalker isn’t watching me anymore. They’re intent on hurting me.

Chapter One Hundred Three

Ruby

As the nurse wheels me down the hallway, I swallow down another wave of nausea at the oppressive smells of the hospital. Antiseptic. Plastic. Something faintly metallic underneath it all.

The overhead lights feel too bright against my eyes, and every bump in the floor sends another pulse of pain through my skull. My stomach rolls again as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Once I’m settled into the exam room, Emily says, “Hang in there.”

I crack one eye open. “You say that like I’m about to pass out.”

“You might.”

“That’s encouraging.” I sigh and sag against the pillow.

“Don’t turn your head. Or open your eyes all the way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” My attempt at levity lands flat with my eyes halfway closed.

“She’s been bossy since the ambulance dropped you off,” Bella says from the other side of the bed.

Emily shoots her a look. “I’m an EMT. I’m allowed.”

“You’re also her best friend,” Bella says dramatically. “That means you’re allowed to panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You are.”

Their bickering settles an uneasy feeling in my chest. For the first time since waking up in the grass, I don’t feel alone.

A few minutes later, the curtain slides open.

The doctor steps inside, already skimming the chart clipped to the end of my bed. He looks to be in his early fifties, silver threading through the dark hair at his temples, white coat hanging open over navy scrubs. A stethoscope rests around his neck, reading glasses tucked into the pocket of his coat.

After sanitizing his hands, he offers me a reassuring smile. “I’m Dr. Reynolds.” He slips a penlight from his pocket. “I’m going to check your eyes.”

The light flashes into my left eye. Then my right. “Follow my finger.”