“Why the hell would we drive her ourselves? We don’t know what happened to her and neither of us have emergency medical training. We can’t transport her safely.”
Blair covers her face with one hand. “We don’t have insurance.”
The concept is foreign to me. With parents renowned in the medical field who pressure me to follow in their footsteps, I feel as though I’ve been spoon fed the importance of medical care. My family has never faced being uninsured. I can’t wrap my head around being sick and not being able to see a doctor.
“We’ll worry about that later.” I whip out my phone and dial. I have to do something. “The sooner we call for professional help, the better.”
Blair flashes me a frazzled look. She hesitates, pursing her lips. “Fine. Call an ambulance, then! We need help.”
I lift my brows, phone pressed to my ear. “Already on it. Don’t move her too much, you don’t know what caused her to collapse.”
Blair’s eyes widen, probably panicking that she rolled her mom over. She takes Macy’s hand and presses her forehead to it.
“Her hands are cold and clammy.”
“Okay. Check for a pulse.”
Color drains from Blair’s face. As her fingers fumble over Macy’s wrist, she whispers, “Oh my god.”
A woman’s calm voice answers the phone. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance at 502 Spruce Lane, in Pine Hills Park. A woman collapsed.”
“Okay, sir, I have help on the way. Is she conscious?”
I lean in for a better look. “No. She’s passed out.”
“Is she breathing?”
“Yes.”
Blair murmurs to her mom, carefully stroking her hair, arranging it out of her face. Tears cling to Blair’s inky lashes and she bites her lip. I’ve never seen her like this. For some reason, I want to take her tears away, make her feel better.
I want to protect her, because only I get to make her cry.
These tears aren’t for me.
“It’ll be okay.” Blair flinches and swings her gaze to me. My chest cinches tight around my heart. “Your mom will be okay.”
Blair’s big whiskey-colored eyes shine under the fluorescent lighting. She nods. It’s strange to find her beautiful right now, with her nose pink and runny, her eyes puffy, and tears streaming down her face.
Beautiful and mine.
Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine.
I don’t know why I gave into the urge to comfort her. I owe her nothing. In fact, she owes me and her debt is yet to be paid.
Watching her gently hold her mom’s hand as tears drop from her chin, I forget about the lingering sting in my cheek where she slapped me. An invisible band around my chest renders it hard to draw breath. I fight against the instinct to crouch beside Blair, gather her into my arms, and inhale the scent of her vanilla shampoo.
She’s belonged to me since she signed that contract. Before that, even.
Possessiveness rears up and takes over. I set everything between us aside. The only thing that matters right now is control.
Minutes later, flashing red lights flicker through the windows, illuminating the walls. I open the front door. Once the paramedics bustle in, I scoop Blair into my arms, and lift her away from Macy.
The emergency responders k
neel on either side of Macy in the kitchenette across the narrow room. One is a woman with her braids twisted into a bun on top of her head and the other is a stocky man in an EMT uniform.