Chapter Seventeen

 

Finnley

 

I woke up shivering and in an empty bed without Aven. My damn ulcer pain hadn’t let up in the least. It had shifted which it had never done before. Unlike the usual burning I felt mid-abdomen, it had turned into a sharp, stabbing pain on my right-hand side.

I struggled to sit, and the moment I was more upright, a wave of nausea hit me, making me repeatedly swallow as bile climbed my throat. When I forced myself out of bed, my legs trembled and resisted weight. Considering I hadn’t eaten much the previous day, I assumed that was probably why.

I worked my sore body toward my dresser, found a pair of joggers and a hoodie, and pulled them on with difficulty. When I bent to pull up my pants, the sense of something crawling up my gorge told me I was about to vomit.

I bolted for the bathroom and hugged the toilet as I heaved, throwing up nothing more than stomach acid. When the intense spasms passed, I sat back against the wall across from the toilet and clutched my side, drawing a sharp breath between teeth. Under my palm, my side felt bloated and hard to the touch. Confused, I drew up my hoodie and stared at where the pain was emanating. It was definitely bloated and… wrong looking.

Screwing up my brow, I checked the other side of my body. Normal. What the fuck? I held my hand over the spot that pained me and struggled to stand. A wave of nausea built again, and I hung onto the towel bar until it passed. Edging my way down the hall, I wondered what time it was and if Aven had already left for work.

“Aven?” When there was no answer, I called again, trying to work more strength into my voice. “Aven, I think something is wrong.”

He wasn’t in the kitchen. The clock on the microwave told me it was only five after seven in the morning. He didn’t work until nine, so I couldn’t figure out where he could have gone. Unless he left in the night and went home. Was he still angry? He hadn’t seemed angry when he’d come over the previous night. Where the fuck was he?

The pain stabbing in my right side prevented me from standing fully upright, and when I reached the kitchen counter, another wave of nausea hit with such ferocity, I turned to the sink, expecting to vomit.

Nothing came up.

Despite my warmer clothes, I still shivered. My teeth chattered, and beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I really didn’t feel well. The slightly raised area on my side was worrying me, and I hiked up my hoodie again to examine it. Fuck! What the fuck was happening?

I stumbled to the coffee table where I knew I’d left my phone the previous night and curled up with it on the couch, drawing up Aven’s number as I sucked in sharp breaths one after another.

I think something is wrong with me. Did you go to work already?

I waited a few minutes, and when he didn’t respond, I hit the call button, figuring he might be driving and unable to text. It rang long enough it went to voicemail.

“Shit.”

I moved, trying desperately to find a more comfortable way to lie but not succeeding. Where the hell was he? I lifted my shirt again and tears formed in my eyes at the sight.

“Aven, where are you?”

With my bottom lip trembling, I typed out another text.

Aven, I’m scared. Help me. Where are you?

I sunk lower on the couch until I was lying down, my body half curled in on itself as I hugged a tight hold on my side. Whatever was happening was getting worse, and if he didn’t call me back soon, I’d need to find a way to get to a hospital. Maybe I had an infection, or my ulcer was just that much worse. It didn’t feel the same anymore.

When my phone rang, I almost cried with relief. I connected the call, and Aven’s frantic voice blasted through.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Tears flooded to the surface unstopped, and I clung to the phone as if it were Aven and it could offer some form of comfort.

“Something is wrong with me. It hurts. I’m really bloated on one side, and when I stand up, I get nauseous. Oh, my God, Aven, help me, I’m scared. Something is really wrong.”

“I’m on my way. I’m coming, baby. Stay on the phone with me.”

I didn’t want to look at my side anymore. It looked… really wrong. My mind went all over the place with theories, and the incessant stabbing refused to allow me to forget. It didn’t matter how I lay, I wasn’t comfortable. Aven talked and asked questions, but I found it hard to respond and focus.

Moaning, I ground my teeth and closed my eyes. “Where are you?”

“Less than a block. Can you move? Can you meet me at the door? I’m taking you to the hospital.”

No, I couldn’t move. If I did, I’d throw up, or the pain would be worse. “No,” I whimpered.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you. I’m just pulling in. I’m hanging up, but I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

The line went dead, and I left my phone on my chest as I waited for Aven. He burst through the door a minute later and was by my side, hands on my face, touching my forehead and telling me to open my eyes.

“You’re burning up. Come on, I’m going to get you in the car.”

“Look,” I said before he could yank me upright. I pulled up my hoodie and watched the color drain from his face. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

There was a beat when Aven didn’t move or speak. His dark eyes shifted from my face back to my side. Then, he was in motion. With an arm hooked around my waist, he helped me to stand and waited as more nausea waved through my system.

Aven assisted me with my shoes and aided each wobbled step down the back stairs to the parking lot. He sat me in the car and helped me buckle up before returning inside and searching out my wallet, so we had my health card information.

As he drove, I rested my head against the window, unable to be fully upright and cradled my side as a new terror filled me. Aven kept his hand on my thigh and spoke calming words that wouldn’t compute among the swarm of thoughts racing through my mind.

The entire time, I held onto hope that my ulcer had simply gotten worse and that I’d just need a prescription dose of medication to handle it instead of the over the counter crap I’d been taking. I should have listened. How many times was I told to cut back on the shit I put in my body?

Aven parked in the emergency lot and didn’t waste a second getting me out of the vehicle and into the hospital. I wanted to ask him to slow down because moving so fast hurt, but I struggled to unclench my teeth and find the words.

Nothing of the outside world registered. If the emergency room was busy, I didn’t notice. I was dragged into triage where the nurse spat questions at me so fast I couldn’t answer. Aven struggled to be helpful, but it was clear it didn’t matter when the nurse gave up. She took a few vitals and moved me directly to an exam room which spiked my fear. I’d been to the emergency room a few times in my life, and there was always a wait in the waiting room after triage. They only took you immediately if there was cause for alarm.

“Aven?” I whined, darting my gaze around the room after I was helped onto the exam table.

“The doctor is coming. It’s okay.”

But why so fast? What’s going on?

Before I could express my concerns, a middle-aged man in a white lab coat came through the door holding a chart. He had light brown hair swept off his face, short at the sides, and intense green eyes that scanned my person once before returning to whatever was on the papers in front of him.

“Finnley Hollins, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What brings you in today?”

Was he kidding? Wasn’t it already on the chart? Why did the nurse batter us with questions if the doctor was simply going to do the same thing? I groaned, and before I could spit all my frustrations in his face, Aven jumped in.

“He’s fevered, abdominal pain on his side which is also raised and hot to the touch, and he’s nauseous.”

The doctor cocked a brow and put his chart down. “Do you take any medications regularly?”

“My Pepcid for an ulcer. Is that what’s wrong?” I clenched my teeth as I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. “It doesn’t feel the same.”

He ignored my question and withdrew a pair of gloves from a caddie attached to the wall before nodding to my shirt. “May I examine your abdomen?”

I peeled my hoodie up, exposing the swollen spot which was relentlessly aching. His hands were warm as he ran them over the affected area, gently at first.

“I’m going to apply a bit of pressure, and you tell me if it’s worse or better.”

I nodded and pinched my face in anticipation. He prodded over the spot that hurt, and the minute he released the pressure, the pain got way worse.

“Ah, fuck,” I spat. “Yes, that fucking hurts.”

Aven squeezed my shoulder and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Relax, baby. He’s trying to help.”

“He’s hurting, not helping.”

The doctor repeated the action in a few other places with similar results. His frown deepened. “Mr. Hollins, do you still have your appendix?”

What? What the hell kind of a question was that? I darted my gaze between the doctor and Aven in confusion.

“What? Yes, why?”

“I’m going to get a portable imaging machine in here right away, but I think you may be taking a trip to the OR right smart. I’ll be right back.”

The air in my lungs turned instantly hot. I shot my gaze to Aven and back to the door where the doctor had exited. Before I could question or process what he’d just said, my world began to shrink and darken at the edges. No air moved in or out of my lungs.

“Finn. Finn!”

Aven’s voice barely reached my ears, and I searched for him, darting my head around the room as my body trembled.

Oh, God! Oh, God! No! This can’t be happening!

“Finnley, look at me, baby.”

My lungs were screaming, starving for oxygen, but it was gone. All gone. I gasped, again and again, but nothing happened. Nothing worked. They’d closed up. Turned off. I couldn’t breathe.

“Finn, relax, baby, breathe.”

I can’t! I fucking can’t!

Aven’s hands tugged my face so I was looking right at him. While I attempted to suck air, I knew I needed to communicate with him, tell him to take me home. Tell him to get me out of there as fast as he could.

All I could manage was shaking my head in desperation, pleading with my eyes while I hoped he understood.

“Baby, calm down.”

“No,” I gasped and latched onto his shirt collar, shaking him desperately. “I… I… can’t. No…”

They were going to put me under. Put me to sleep. No! No fucking way! I tore from Aven’s grasp and stumbled off the exam table and across the room. I couldn’t express my need to flee, so I took action. I needed to leave. Now! Before I reached the door, I crashed into a blood pressure machine and landed hard on top of it. The world spun and shrunk as I tried to get a grip but couldn’t.

Aven’s arms went around my waist, and he pulled me back before I could find my feet again. I couldn’t breathe. Flailing and struggling in his arms, I gasped and formed what words I could so he would understand. He needed to understand. I couldn’t do this.

“I… can’t. Please,” I sputtered. “No…”

His mouth was by my ear, his voice calm in my chaos. “Baby, if they don’t operate, your appendix could burst. Finn, that’s really dangerous. Listen to me, baby, I know you’re afraid.”

No! He needed to take me home. I couldn’t go under. Oh, fuck! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! I fought Aven’s hold, kicked and struggled in his arms. My foot connected with the spilled machine and sent pieces to scatter into the hallway.

In seconds, the room was filled with nurses and the doctor, but their words were lost in the nightmare closing in on me. Aven spoke calmly in my ear as I struggled to find enough oxygen and the strength to get away. I was failing. No counting or singing was going to help, I’d slipped too deep too fast. Oh, God, help me! No!

The doctor was in front of me, his stern face and green eyes trying to tell me something. My lungs convulsed, and the pain I’d once felt in my side was so far gone it no longer mattered. Fear consumed me whole.

I grappled for Aven, desperately needing him to understand I couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t let them put me under. Oh, God, I won’t wake up. I won’t… I won’t.

The doctor stood and was shouting something to his nurses. Nothing made sense, but it didn’t matter. Aven spun me to face him, and his comforting hands were on my face. I fought for control, to hear the words passing his lips.

“It will be okay, baby.” His fingers stroked my tear stained cheeks. I was crying. Briefly, his chocolate brown eyes shifted to the chaos of people behind me, but when he peered back, I saw a look I would never forget. Regret. Pain. Hurt.

Even in my confusion, I knew something was wrong.

He pulled my head down to his shoulder, and I didn’t understand. Only when he spoke did I realize he’d pinned my arms down as well and had a restraining hold on the top of my head. His words tore my heart out.

“I love you, Finn, I’ll be right here. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

The sting in my neck made me jump, but Aven held me firmly against his body not allowing me to move. If I’d thought my anxiety was at its peak before, I was wrong. That tiny action caused me to explode.

Realization came down like a curtain, and the fear became so astronomical it consumed me. Paralyzed me. Aven’s eyes were the last thing I saw before the darkness stole everything, and his words lingered in the back of my mind, echoing all around as I was pulled under against my will.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I love you.”