I was careful to remain calm and reassuring.
I knew the stats on these incidences, so I had reason to be optimistic.
He’d been given epinephrine quickly after his attack and help had been called immediately.
We’d done everything right.
From the dire expression on his face, you wouldn’t think so, though. He pulled the oxygen mask down, squeezing my hand even harder. “Tell the boys—”
He started, but I cut him off. “Shut it, Moreau. And for the nine hundredth time, keep your freaking mask on.” I snapped it back onto his face and smiled. “You can tell them yourself the next time you see each other.”
“Geneviève,” he said, his voice raspy and gruff.
“Moreau,” I said, leaning in close. My fingers ran through his hair, exactly how I knew he liked it. “You’re going to be fine. I know this is scary right now, but this kind of thing happens all the time. As soon as you get to the hospital, they’ll get you on some steroids to help you breathe easier.”
He shut his eyes and it broke my heart.
Beau Moreau, superstar hockey forward, was truly afraid.
When he opened his eyes again, he looked at me and said, “I love you, Geneviève.”
The radio on the paramedic screeched. “Estimated arrival, please?” He gave them a time that was only a minute or two away. I breathed a sigh of relief. “History of allergy?” the hospital staff on the other end asked.
I looked up at the paramedic and he smiled at me. “Peanut, since he was a toddler. He avoids tree nuts as well. I administered his epinephrine at ten-fourteen tonight.” I gazed down at Beau, looking at his still swollen eyes and lips. The redness on his face, neck and chest had abated somewhat. But he still looked a wreck. “And I’d give him another one if I had it.”
He held onto my hand even tighter now, and I was certain there was definitely no longer any blood flow to my fingers. “After this, you’re carrying two with you everywhere you go.”
Beau nodded, then yanked hard on my hand until my torso fell half on and half off him. “Beau,” I said, trying to move back.
“Lay here. Please,” he grunted out, reaching his far hand over to hold my head to his neck. He was breathing erratically. But he was still breathing.
“Okay,” I said, then allowed myself to cuddle in like I used to. Beau shut his eyes. He had completely perspired through his shirt, but I didn’t care.
To me, he smelled—and felt—divine.
His spicy, manly musk surrounded me. And for one glorious moment, I pretended we were back at our apartment. In bed.
“All right, lady and gent, we have arrived,” the paramedic said as he stood up, removing the IV fluids from the interior of the ambulance to the gurney.
I bolted up. “See? You’re still alive, just like I said. Now, the docs are going to fill you up with all the good stuff.”
“Stay. Please,” he barely got out. The swelling on his eyelids was so bad now he only had tiny slits to see through.
“I’m here, Moreau.”
“Why,of all things, would you take a brownie?” I asked, sitting all the way back on the chair.
They’d stuck Beau in a bed in the emergency room and hooked him up to a monitor. The meds had worked quickly. Thank goodness.
I could tell he was feeling better when he’d asked me for a sponge bath. I laughed and rolled my eyes at him, but part of me really wanted to do just that.
Imagining a soapy, wet, Beau Moreau was hugely preferable to the scared, panicked, Beau Moreau I’d been with an hour and a half ago.
I’d kept the conversation light.
The way he kept looking at me, I knew he had more to say.
However, I didn’t particularly want to hear it.