Page 92 of My Fake Dating with the Grumpiest Highlander
“Fifteen minutes,” she answers in a trembling voice. “I tried his inhaler, but it isn’t working. I... I didn’t know where else to go. The clinic’s closed, the hospital is too far away…”
She looks at me.
Her eyes are full of tears and something that looks painfully close to shame.
“I know you have no reason to help me after the way I treated you, but my grandson…”
“Lay him down on the couch.”
There’s no time for apologies.
No time for anything except the emergency in front of me.
Mary switches on every light in the room while I kneel beside the child.
“What’s his name?”
“Robbie.”
“Okay, Robbie. I’m Dr. McLeod. I’m going to help you, alright?”
The boy stares at me with terrified eyes.
Every breath is a struggle.
I examine him quickly.
Severe wheezing in both lungs.
Respiratory rate too high.
Lips slightly cyanotic.
My heart starts pounding.
Not now.
Not here.
Not a child.
Panic rises suddenly inside me.
The memories from Edinburgh crash into me like a black wave threatening to drag me under. The monitor alarms. The shouting. The helplessness of watching someone die while being unable to stop it.
“Finn.”
Mary’s voice cuts through the chaos.
Calm.
Steady.
I look up at her.
“What do you need?” she asks.
The question pulls me back to the present. Back to the boy in front of me. Back to the fact that Idoknow what to do.
