“Why?” her eyes were beginning to fill with silent tears again.
I’d seen her cry three different times tonight. The first didn’t really count. It was the silent tears that fell while she clutched her throat as I carried her to the car. Then the silent tears she shed when the doctor gave her another shot and told her she had nothing to worry about. And then the tears that came when she was given paperwork and what was likely a bill. Her cries were silent, and it hurt more than if she’d just let out a shriek or a sob.
“I should have double-checked with the bartender.”
“It was a mistake.” She sniffed, wiping the tears away. “I’m the one that’s sorry.”
“Why?” I sat on the stool that was meant for the doctor and rolled in front of her, pushing the papers out of the way, holding her hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“This is just so stupid.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “If you wanted to get out of that stuffy place you could have just asked. There are better ways than faking your own death.”
She laughed a little. “You had an EpiPen.”
“Two actually.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t have one. And I knew you’d be in my truck enough to warrant keeping a few on hand.”
“They’re expensive.”
I shook my head. “Not really.” They were. “But I’m glad I had them.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
I kissed her hands. “Let’s not do that again.”
She snorted. “Not planning on it.
It was only an hour later when the doctor came in and gave us the green light to go home so long as we monitored her through the night to make sure nothing changed.
When we were back in the car and on the road she asked, “Can you take me to Rosalie’s place? I think I’ll stay there tonight, she can check in on me.”
“As if I’d let anyone else watch over you,” I said.
“I highly doubt your parents will approve of a uh—sleepover.”
He laughed. “God no. But it’s also close to two hours back to my place from here. Good thing I rented us a cozy Airbnb for the night. That was the other little surprise I had planned.”
“Really?” she asked, hope in her voice.
“Really. I thought we could sleep in and watch the sunrise from the full windows overlooking the beach.”
“Sunrise would be on the other side of the house then.”
“Looks like we’ll have to stay in bed all day,” I winked at her.
“Trask,” her voice hitched. “Thank you.”
“Happy early Christmas. Sorry it ended with your throat closing in on itself.”
She shrugged, a smile pulling at her lips. “Oh darn, I get to have you watching over me all night. What a bummer.”
21
ELIZA