Page 88 of Paging Dr. VanRyan

“I was going to go get checked out,” I encouraged, remembering that. “Something hit me.”

“An orderly was pushing an empty gurney too fast. He hit you, and you slammed into the wall and fell. That ruptured your spleen.”

“Ah.” Made sense. Mono symptoms included fatigue and an enlarged spleen. Being hit that way would cause the rupture.

“There were a few mono cases I treated,” I mumbled. “More than a few, actually.”

“And you ignored your symptoms.”

I sighed, feeling weary. “I know.” I fumbled for her hand again, pressing it back to my face. “Don’t be mad, Maddy. I hate it.”

She leaned close, this time cupping my face. “You could have died. I would have lost you forever,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“Nope. Stuck with me. We’re getting back together.”

“You’re still under the influence of your anesthetic.”

“Nope. Together. Now is the right time.” I felt myself drifting off. “Perfect time.” I exhaled a long rush of air. “Our time.”

And I let sleep take me.

I drifted in and out for a while. Every time I opened my eyes, Maddy was there. Watching. Waiting. If I was coordinated enough, I searched for her hand. Once, I attempted to cup her cheek but missed her face completely. She picked up my hand and held it to her skin.

“My Maddy,” I mumbled before I slipped away again.

Finally, I opened my eyes, my head feeling clearer, my body aching. I blinked in the dim light of the room, hearing hushed voices. I turned my head slightly, surprised to see my parents, Daisy, and Maddy all talking.

Unaware I was now awake.

“I told the idiot to get checked. But did he listen?” Daisy huffed.

“Don’t call him an idiot,” Maddy replied.

I smiled at her defense of me. Briefly.

“You’re giving idiots a bad name.”

Mom held up her hand. “That’s my son you’re calling an idiot.”

I was always her favorite.

She sighed heavily. “Sadly, it’s a trait he gets from his father.”

“Hey,” Dad protested.

“It’s true. His stubbornness, his refusal to accept help⁠—”

“His good looks,” Dad interjected.

At least none of them scoffed at that statement.

“He should have listened to you ladies, though,” Dad admitted.

Suddenly, Mom began to cry. “He could have died, Richard.”

Dad wrapped his arm around her. “He’s fine, Katy. Your baby is going to be just fine.”

I hated hearing my mom cry. It did something to my chest.