Not Quite Forever (Not Quite series) (15 page)

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter fifteen sucked. Dakota had written three different twists in her story and none of them manifested into an easy chapter sixteen. She tried running to clear her head, but that wasn’t working. Running sucked. Who willingly put on shorts, a sports bra, and jogged around the block?

She hadn’t heard from Walt in three days.

On her phone was a missed call from him, but she refused to pick up the phone. She was stronger than that, damn it!

Dakota tapped a well-manicured nail against the desk and stared at her phone.

She grabbed it off the receiver as if it had insulted her by its mere existence.

With a forced smile on her face, Dakota lifted her voice and smothered it with Southern charm.

“Emergency Room, this is Rick?”

“Hello Rick. Can you be a dear and tell me if Doctor Eddy is on today?”

“We don’t give out the doctors’ schedules.”

“Oh, I don’t want his schedule. You see, he was so wonderful with my stepdaughter last week. I just wanted to send him a little something. It would be a shame if I sent it on a night he wasn’t working.” Dakota crossed her fingers and closed her eyes . . . as if those motions could change the outcome of this call.

“Oh . . . well . . .”

“I just need to know if I’m sending pizza or doughnuts. I have a feeling Doctor Eddy has a sweet tooth but doughnuts in the evening simply aren’t the same . . . wouldn’t you agree?”
C’mon, Rick.

One of the tidbits Walt had given her about the ER staff was their desire for food.

“In that case. He’ll be in tonight at seven.”

Gotcha!
“Bless your heart. I’ll be sure and send enough for everyone. Everyone was so kind. Thank y’all for being here for us.”

“No problem.”

Walt was back in town and yet a call hadn’t happened.

There were things she could forgive, but going back on your word wasn’t one of them.

Before turning off her computer, she found a local pizza joint that delivered and ordered six pizzas for the staff of the ER. She
was
a woman of her word.

Then she went to her bedroom and put on an extra layer of polish and a change of clothes.

Never go into any breakup looking your worst. Make ’em wish they had made a different choice.

Sometimes her Southern upbringing came in handy.

Before she left the house, she managed a couple of aspirin to help with the headache that seemed to be with her daily since Walt brushed her off.

The tears didn’t help.

After today, she wouldn’t shed another one. If Walt wanted her out of his life, fine. But he was going to offer some kind of explanation for the sudden departure.

He pulled into the doctors’ parking lot, found a spot on the second level, and locked his car before finding the back stairs close to the ER.

He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs.

She wore black stiletto boots and a mini with a tight-knit white turtleneck without sleeves. Her dark-rimmed sunglasses hid her eyes but the lack of smile on her face said everything.

Walt didn’t like the twist in his gut. The desire to reach for her, tell her he was being an ass, try and make her understand his worries even when he didn’t quite know them, was a physical ache. It didn’t help that she looked hotter than he’d ever seen.
“Dakota,” he whispered her name.

“Oh, shucks, Doc. You remembered my name. I’m flattered.”

He deserved that.

“We should talk.”

She placed her fingertips on her forehead and squeezed her temple. “You know, Walt. I thought we were doing fine. I’m only here to find out what the hell I did that made you run.”

“You didn’t do anything.” And standing by her side made him kick his own ass for not calling her.

“If you tell me it’s not me, it’s you, I won’t be responsible for my reaction.” She pushed the heel of her hand to her head. “This was a mistake.”

When she started to walk past him, he reached out. “Please.”

She shook out of his hold and removed her sunglasses with a swipe of her hand. The fatigue he saw in the mirror every day sat behind her eyes. The words
I fucked up
sat on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth to tell her he was an ass, a scared ass, and then she wiped the back of her hand under her nose and looked down.

Blood.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

She leaned forward and dug into the purse, retrieved a tiny tissue, and blotted her nose.

“Are you OK?”

“It’s a bloody nose, Doctor. I’m fine.”

Only the blood was overfilling her tissue and running down her arm.

His forearms throbbed as he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for her. It was obvious she didn’t want his touch.

That gutted him.

A drop of blood hit her white shirt, and she blew out a string of obscenities that would make a sailor take note.

“The ER is ten feet away with plenty of gauze to help you with that.”

She glared before twisting on her heel and walking toward the back entry.

He walked beside her, not touching, and punched in the access code. The double doors of the bay opened to the activity and noise of the department. A few heads swung their way.

“Hey, Walt.”

He smiled at Valerie before reaching into a supply cart just past the nurse’s station. He found a pack of four-by-four gauze and pulled a stack. He brushed her hand away as he pinched her nose and kept pressure.

“I got it.” She tried pulling away, but he reached around her to keep her put.

“Hold still!”

She growled and glared.

That he could deal with, then he saw a tear fall down her cheek. “Damn it, Dakota. We were moving too fast. I care too much.”

Now the tears were rolling. Thankfully, Valerie moved in and stopped all conversation. “You should sit down,” she told Dakota. “B-nine is empty. I’ll put her there.”

Valerie placed a gloved hand over his and led Dakota away.

Her head was pounding and her brand-new angora sweater was ruined.

Damn him!

Valerie moved her behind a curtain and pulled more gauze. Without taking away any pressure, she switched the cloth and forced Dakota’s head down.

The taste of blood rolled down her throat with a gag.

“Thanks, Valerie.”

“No problem.” Valerie took Dakota’s free hand and placed it over hers. “Hold this . . . tight.”

They made the switch and Valerie stepped away to pull more supplies from a cart at her side. “Does this happen a lot?”

Dakota shook her head. “No. Well, a couple times this past week.”

“This bad?”

Is this bad?

She swallowed again, hated the taste.

“No.”

“The humidity is down. Nosebleeds increase with the dry air.”

“I live closer to the beach,” Dakota told her.

Instead of asking more questions, Valerie pulled the blood pressure cuff from the overhead monitor and turned it on. “I’m just going to check your blood pressure.”

Dakota looked up only to have Valerie place a hand to her head and push it back down. “Humor me.”

Dakota rolled her eyes and lifted her left arm. What blood pressure and nosebleeds had in common was beyond her.

The cuff on her arm pumped up, started to loosen, then pumped up again. “Ouch.”

“Hold still.”

The death grip of the cuff finally gave way with an error message on the monitor.

Valerie moved away, saying she’d be back.

If not for the feeling of her nosebleed continuing, Dakota would have slithered out of the department. So long as she didn’t need to see Walt, she’d stay put.

Valerie returned with a manual blood pressure pump and replaced the automatic one.

After encouraging Dakota to spread out on the gurney, with her head down, Valerie took her pressure again. On the second attempt, Dakota started to worry. “Is there a problem?”

Valerie removed the stethoscope from her ears and attempted a smile. “Do you have high blood pressure?”

Dakota shrugged. “No. Not that I know of . . . why?”

“Your pressure is high, which might be why your nose sprung a leak.”

“What does blood pressure and nosebleeds have in common?”

“Quite a bit, actually.”

Not convinced, Dakota swung her feet off the gurney. With the movement, the bleeding worsened. “Make it stop, Valerie.”

“Keep the pressure and your head down. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared again, when she returned Walt was with her, his face stone white.

Here she’d taken so much time to make herself sex in high heels and now she was lying on a gurney with a perfectly brilliant sweater ruined and ready for burial, dried blood down her arm. So much for her plan.

“Hey, hon.”

“Don’t!”

He took her warning and passed a look to Valerie, who looked away.

“Your blood pressure is probably driving this nosebleed. We bring one down, the other will slow. In the meantime we need to stop up this bleed.”

As much as she wanted to tell Walt to go to hell, she couldn’t. “What do we need to do?”

“I’m more than willing to take care of you without paperwork, but the hospital needs to start a chart.”

Dakota closed her eyes, not willing to look at him any longer. She forced a slow, deep breath between her lips and blew it out. “Fine.”

Blood pressure was about emotions . . . right? She was young, not a chance it was about her crazy diet . . . which if anyone asked was damn good.

Valerie rolled over a portable computer and typed in a few facts while Walt rolled in a cart. Another nurse Dakota didn’t know stepped in and started hooking her up to the cardiac monitor.

“Isn’t this overkill?” she asked.

Walt pulled on a pair of gloves. “Your blood pressure is 210 over 120.”

She zeroed her gaze on him. “I’ve been a little stressed, Doctor.”

He swallowed, sat in a rolling stool, and pushed close. “Try and relax.”

Valerie interrupted them and sent a menacing look to Walt. “Dakota, are you allergic to anything . . . medications?”

“No.”

“Health problems? High blood pressure in the family?”

“I’m fine. As for my family, we’re from the South. We don’t know a damn thing about our parents until they reach seventy and then we know everything. Hard to tell what’s truth and what’s contrived.” While Dakota was talking, she lifted her head and more bleeding made itself known.

Walt stood, pushed his hand over hers, and pressed hard.

“That hurts.”

“Direct pressure stops bleeding.”

“I’ve been adding direct pressure for a while, Doc. It’s not stopping!”

Instead of commenting, Walt looked at the second nurse in the room. “Pull out a nasal tampon.”

“A what?” Dakota pulled away.

“Damn it, Dakota. Hold still.”

Valerie placed a hand on her arm and directed her attention away. “Do you take any medication?”

She started to shake her head, and then said, “Birth control.”

“Last period?”

Last what?
Walt was pinching so hard she couldn’t concentrate on what Valerie was asking her. “Three weeks, give or take. Ouch!”

“Hold this,” the second nurse handed her a blush-colored bowl and placed it under her chin. “Spit out any blood going down the back of your throat.”