Page 102 of The Golden Boys
“You—” A frustrated growl leaves my mouth when nothing else will.
I hang up because I can’t take another second of this bitch’s rambling. The only thing that’s come of this is that I now know what caused the reaction.
I’m also now aware of the measure of Parker Holiday’s stupidity.
And that shit is off the charts.
* * *
I told Sterling to take off once Southside was stable. I plan to call for a ride when I’m ready to go, but I don’t expect that to be anytime soon.
It shouldn’t jumpstart my heart the way it does when she finally comes to, but I’m on my feet and at her side. At first, I reach to grab her hand, but catch myself just in time, shoving them both inside my pockets instead.
Southside blinks a few times and then reaches for her head with a groan.
“Are you okay?”
It takes her a second to get her bearings, and then she settles her confused gaze on me. “Where am I?”
That inkling to take her hand is back again. And I resist it again.
“You’re at the hospital,” I say. “You had an allergic reaction to something you ate.”
I don’t give a shit about protecting Parker, but can’t shake the warning she gave at the cemetery. I know that, if it gets out what she’s done, the girl would sing like a canary, giving up every detail of whatever she might know. Do I believe she actually has something on me? Not quite. But are the stakes too high if she does? Completely.
“My head,” Southside moans, letting her eyes fall closed again.
“Are you up to speaking with the doctors? They have a few questions they wanted to ask once you woke up.”
It’s still taking some getting used to, speaking to one another without there being venom in our words.
She nods. “Sure. I can do that.”
I leave her for only long enough to stop at the nurse’s station, then I’m back in the room, standing at her bedside like a dutiful boyfriend.
Dude, what the fuck are you doing?
I check my behavior and go back to the chair in the corner instead.
“Ms. Riley?” Dr. Turner says when he enters the room.
Southside offers a faint smile and sits up a little. “Hi.”
“You gave us quite a scare,” he adds with a smile. “Any idea what you ate that did this to you?”
I glance toward Southside and she’s clearly confused. “No. I’m usually pretty careful, but … I must not have been tonight.”
When she goes quiet, Dr. Turner nods. “Well, we got some epinephrine into your system as soon asthiskind, young gentlemen rushed you into ER. His quick action likely saved your life tonight.”
Southside turns toward me, offering a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. My guess is it’s weird hearing someone use any of those words to describe me. I’d have to agree with her on that.
“No EpiPen?” the doctor asks.
“I keep one in my purse, but I left it in a friend’s car. Guess I thought I knew what foods to avoid,” she explains.
“Sometimes these things can sneak up on you, which is why you never want to assume, understood?” he asks in a stern, and yet caring, voice.
Southside nods. “Understood.”