Every Glance (Every Life #3) (3 page)

I can hear his wheezing, and I know it’s not good.

“Hey, kid, can you hear me?”

A little head peeks over the side. He appears to be about seven or eight years old, and he has the cutest curly brown mop of hair and big blue eyes . . . and blue-tinged lips. Shit.

“I’m going to get you down from there, but I need you to do one thing. Pull up on that knob and open the door.” He immediately follows my orders, even though he’s struggling for each and every breath. I can tell he’s a brave little thing.

“Good job. Now, sit on the floor of the car, and let your feet dangle out.”

He scrambles to follow my orders, but his movements are unsteady. Partially, I’m sure, from the car moving with him, but mostly because of the severe lack of oxygen. He’s going downhill fast.

“You’re doing great, buddy. Now, I’m going to stand right here under you, and I want you to slide off, just like you would from a tall stool. I promise I won’t let you fall, okay? Trust me.”

He clutches at his chest with one hand and shakes his head.

“I know you’re scared, but I need to get you some medicine, and I can’t do that until we get you down.” I grab onto his tiny Converse shoes. “See? I can reach your feet. It’s not far. I’ll count to three, and then you just slide off. Ready?”

He nods.

“Okay. One . . . two . . .
three.”
As soon as that last word leaves my lips, he launches himself from the car right into my waiting arms. “Good job, buddy. Let’s get you down to your mom and get you some medicine.”

Sawyer is waiting on the truck’s ladder, so I lower the kid down to him before descending. I hear the wail of sirens pulling into the square, so with the boy cradled in his arms, Sawyer jogs over to the street to meet the paramedics. The mom is especially worried, so I walk with her, trying to soothe her and letting her know that he’ll be just fine.

I give the medics what information I have, and they immediately get him strapped in and start pumping the oxygen into him. I can tell Sawyer is just itching to get in there and do something, but there’s nothing left to do. I’m glad he was able to get his paramedic job back a few months ago. He’s a lot happier now that he’s able to help people again.

Before she gets into the ambulance, the mom hugs both Sawyer and me, thanking us for helping Simon.

Hmm. The name suits the kid.

She jumps in and grasps Simon’s shaking hand, and as the doors close, I hear her mutter, “Your mom is gonna kill me.”

His mom? Well, she may not be his mom, but I can tell, whoever she is, the woman is someone close to him. Maybe it’s a good thing that his mom wasn’t there. She might’ve knocked the ride operator out and scaled the side of the Ferris wheel. Then, we probably would’ve been rescuing the both of them.

“Well, that was scary,” Makenna says as we watch the flashing lights grow smaller in the distance. “I’m proud of both of you for helping him.”

I shrug. “Anybody would have. I just hope he’s going to be okay. I’ll probably swing by the hospital on my way home and check on him.”

“We’ll go with you,” Sawyer says. “I’ll be worried about him all night if I don’t.”

And so we do. It’s not like any of us would be able to have fun at the festival after all that anyway.

The ER physician had him on a breathing treatment when we stopped by, and he said his oxygen levels were almost back to normal. Poor kid. I’m all too familiar with his situation. Luckily, my asthma got a little better with age, but when I was much younger, I had a worn spot on the front pocket of my jeans from my inhaler. I never went anywhere without it. Which, of course, fueled the fire of incessant insults and teasing from other kids in my class.

And I think kids are even meaner now, especially with social media and the general lack of respect for humanity. I can’t imagine being in elementary school in this day and time.

Sawyer and Makenna head home after I let them know Simon is doing better, so while I’m already at the hospital, I decide to go ahead and check in on a few of my patients that were admitted this week. We have an elderly gentleman named Tom who is in the early stages of congestive heart failure. There’s also Hadley, a preteen with an ugly case of pneumonia. And we can’t forget Beau, a forty-two year old man who fell from a second story window and shattered his shoulder and broke four ribs.

Don’t feel too sorry for him just yet. He was trying to sneak out of his girlfriend’s house when her husband came home earlier than expected.

“Doctor?” A soft voice calls out just as I’m stepping out of the last patient’s room.

I spin around to see the woman from earlier. Simon’s
not
-mom, whoever she is.

“Hi. I’m Kyler. Simon’s aunt and probably now-former babysitter.”

Ah-ha. She
is
related.

“Dalton Hoover. Nice to officially meet you, Kylie.”

She grins ever-so-slightly. “Ky-
ler.
My mom had a strange fascination with giving my sisters and me masculine sounding names. There’s also Aiden and . . . aaaaand I’m rambling. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you helping Simon tonight. And me. We left in such a rush to get to the festival because his class was performing a karate demonstration, so I ran out without the inhaler. A rookie mistake that I’ll never make again, I’m sure.
If
his mom ever lets me see him again. He was so damn insistent on riding that thing alone, so I let him. If I had ridden with him, he probably wouldn’t have gotten nervous in the first place, and never would’ve . . .” She trails off for a second. “Sorry. Doing it again.”

She’s kinda cute, but probably a little young for even my taste. I doubt if she’s even twenty.

“I was just doing my job. You don’t have to thank me. I’m glad to hear he’s going to be going home tonight. He’ll probably need to see his regular physician tomorrow, just to be on the safe side, but I’m sure the ER doc already told you that.”

“Oh, yeah. And Simon’s mom should be here before they release him, so she’ll get all of the instructions. I just saw you and wanted to thank you for jumping in there and helping tonight. Although, I must admit that I thought you were lying when you told me you’re a doctor. I’ve had too many guys use things like that as pick-up lines, and let’s be honest, you barely look old enough to have gone through a gazillion years of med school. I actually didn’t believe you until I saw you come out of that room with a stethoscope draped around your—”

She pauses and meets my amused gaze.

I can’t help but laughing. “Rambling again?”

“Sorry, I do that when I’m nervous,” she admits, clasping her hands together to keep from fidgeting. “My sister is probably going to murder me, and just my luck, the guy that rescues my nephew just happens to be a really good-looking doctor. I’m batting a thousand here. There’s no chance I’ll
stop
rambling for hours.” A fit of giggles erupts from her wide smile. “Please, get away while you still can.”

There’s something really pleasant about a woman that can laugh at her own perceived flaws. I’m slowly getting there, but I have trouble with taking myself too seriously far too often.

“Tell you what, Ky
ler.
I’ll go down to the cafeteria and grab a couple cups of coffee, and I’ll hang out with you until your sister gets here. Maybe if I’m here as a buffer, she won’t freak out on you too bad. I’ll be sure and brag on how well you handled the situation.”

One side of her mouth turns up. “Are you kidding me? I called the guy a ‘stupid carnie’ and told him that he was a heartless waste of oxygen.”

“I must’ve missed that last part,” I say. “But you did just fine.”

She bites her lip and nods. “Okay, then. One cream, two sugars.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Once I return, we locate a quiet corner of the waiting room, which is unusually empty for this time of night, and settle in with our coffees. I find out that she’s a twenty-one year old college student, working on the last year of her business management degree, and she lives in a little apartment just outside of town. She is the youngest of three girls.

I tell her about my fast track through high school, college, and med school to beat my father’s record of becoming a practicing doctor by the age of twenty-six. My father didn’t get his license until he was nearly twenty-eight. And I list all of the “perks” of being an only child of a respected pediatrician and a college biology professor. Needless to say, the push to succeed was ever-present in our household, and science and medicine were shoved down my throat as if my entire life depended on it. Turns out, it eventually did, I guess.

Once she gets over her rattled nerves, Kyler is a lot of fun to talk to. Her laughter comes easy. She has a keen ability to find humor in nearly everything. And the most intriguing part about her is her smile. It’s a no-holds-barred, purely genuine, feel-it-in-your-gut kind of smile.

Just chatting and laughing with her for the last hour has significantly brightened my night, and I haven’t even thought about Kathryn.

Well, until just now, that is.

Kyler’s phone chimes in her purse, just as my own rings.

“This is Doctor Hoover,” I answer, standing to take a few steps away from her.

“Doc, it’s Maribeth at Hillcrest Manor. Sorry to call so late in the day, but I don’t really know how you want me to handle this. Mr. Lincoln hasn’t been doing so well today. He’s not really eating or drinking, and he has a bit of fever. If it’s any indication of how he’s feeling, he didn’t even fight me when I wanted to draw some blood. It doesn’t appear to be anything that would warrant a trip to the hospital yet, but I’m worried about him. I even smuggled some chocolate past Georgia for him, and he refused to eat it.”

For lack of a better term, William is Sawyer’s surrogate grandfather. The old man hasn’t been in decent health for years, and the last six months have been particularly rough for him. But this doesn’t sound good at all.

“I appreciate you calling to let me know, Maribeth. I’ll head over there right now and check him out. I may want to get him admitted tonight. See you in a few.”

I shove my phone into my pocket and look at my watch. Since it’s nearly eleven o’clock, I’d better get over there if I have any chance of getting any sleep tonight. I’m on-call tomorrow.

“Sounds like you need to go,” Kyler says.

I turn to find her standing behind me. “Yeah, one of my frequent flyers isn’t doing too well, so I have to get over to the nursing home. How long before your sister gets here?”

“She just texted me. Her flight just got in, so she’s on her way from the airport. She should be here in about fifteen minutes or so.”

“Oh, okay. I can wait that long.”

She rests her small hand on my crossed arms. “But you don’t have to. I’m a big girl. This won’t be the first or last time I’ve made my sister mad, and now that you’ve helped me calm down a little bit, I’m not worried about it anymore. She’ll get over it. You go take care of your patient.”

“You sure?” I ask, trying really hard not to put any thought into the fact that her hand is still on me. Must be a product of all the years of girls being repulsed by me, but when a woman gets that close, I start reading way too much into it.

She’s not into you, Dalton. It’s a friendly gesture. Down, boy.

“Absolutely,” she assures me. “
But
you can repay me by going out to dinner with me sometime this week. If you have time, of course.”

Friendly gesture, my ass. “Sounds great. I’m off Wednesday night. Will that work for you?”

She dips two fingers into my front pocket, and my heart stutters for a second until I realize she’s pulling out my phone. She punches in some numbers, and her phone’s muffled ring sounds from her purse. “There. Now you have my number. Just call me with a time, and I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“O-okay.” Get your shit together, Dalton. “I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.”

“Good.” She turns back toward her seat, but not before winking at me.

Hmm . . . this girl’s got some game.

And I like it.

“WILLIAM?” I CALL out softly before poking my head into his room.

“I figured it was only a matter of time before they called the quacks in.” His hoarse voice is laced with agitation, but then again, it usually is.

“Aww. I love it when you have pet names for me. How are you feeling?”

William huffs. “As good as any old blind man in his death bed ever feels, I guess.”

“Oh, come on now,” I protest while checking his chart. “You might have one foot in it, but you’re not quite in your death bed just yet. Any pain anywhere?”

“There’s a pain in my ass right in front of me.”

I roll my eyes, knowing he can’t see it, but it makes me feel better. “If you were any sweeter, you’d be like vinegar. Answer my questions, old man, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“No pain. See ya later.”

“Not so fast.” I pull out the blood pressure cuff tighten it around his arm. “What about dizziness, headaches, or blurred vision.”

I couldn’t help myself, but it does get a little chuckle out of him.

“I haven’t had blurred vision for close to twenty years now. But to answer your questions, no. I’m just tired. Nothin’ else.”