Page 62 of Bean

My heart leaped into my throat as his body trembled. A seizure?

Panic overwhelmed me, and I did the only thing I could think of and ripped my phone off the table, dialing 9-1-1 with shakingfingers as I hoped I was quick enough to save his life if it was really in danger.

“Well.” The first responder—who wasn’t an EMT if the title on his shirt was anything to go by—said as he stood up. “I’m not a neurologist, but I’d say this was most likely a seizure.”

Bean was awake but not quite with it. His eyes were still glazed, and he hadn’t said much since he’d stopped shaking. The call to 9-1-1 had yielded an ambulance and this guy in the SUV with the fire department logo on the side. He’d arrived about four minutes before the ambulance and had managed to get Bean to respond to him before the paramedics walked in through the door.

He was calm too, which helped me stop freaking out that I was about to lose him.

“Do you know much about his history?”

I shook my head. “Just that he has a TBI. He was in the Army, and there was an incident. I don’t know a lot about it,” I confessed, feeling foolish that I had no real answers.

The guy smiled at me and set his hand on my shoulder. “You can relax. He’s going to be fine. These things happen, and I’m not even going to recommend transport to the hospital.”

“Really?” I was a little shocked at that.

“He has a medical alert card,” the guy said, pointing to the contents of his wallet that I’d emptied. “There’s an emergency number on there you can call. It looks like a friend or family.”

Well. Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that. Not that I’d ever been in a situation like this before, but still. Doing this with Bean, I should have known. I should have asked.

“I’m a terrible boyf—uh.Friend,” I said.

The guy raised a brow at me, then grabbed the card off the table. “Why don’t we call this number together while these guys finish checking him out?”

That sounded like a good idea, even if the last thing I wanted to do was be away from him. “I’m Jarek, by the way,” I told him as we walked into the kitchen, where the half-done chicken and dumplings were still on the counter.

He grinned, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. If I wasn’t in such a state and completely enamored with Bean, I might have processed how good-looking this man was. Because he definitely had the silver-fox thing going for him with his salt-and-pepper beard and gray streaks in his hair.

“I know,” he said, winking. “I heard you on the call. I’m Dayton. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Is it?I’m not your worst call of all time?”

He chuckled and laid his hand on my shoulder again. “Not even close.You did well. Not everyone can think calmly or rationally when they’re as scared as you were. Don’t beat yourself up because you didn’t think of everything.”

The low rumble of his soothing words helped, and I was able to take a few breaths before grabbing the card from him. I looked at the name and felt an instant rush of relief. Nash was listed as the contact.

Putting his number in my phone, I dialed and said a small prayer as it rang and rang. And rang.I braced myself for voicemail before a rumbling voice picked up.

“Yo, this is Nash.”

“Hi. Uh…you don’t know me. My name is?—”

“Jarek. Yeah, I got you in my phone. Bean asked me to save your contact info. Everything okay?” Nash’s voice was short, clipped, and matter-of-fact without being cruel or accusing. But he sounded worried.

“Bean had an incident. I picked him up from work and he seemed a little off. We were cooking, and he just, ah, kind of lost it.”

“Lost it?” Nash was quiet for a beat. “Did he hurt himself again?”

My ears rang. “What do you mean hurt himself again?”

“I take that as a no.What happened?”

“We were cooking, and he kind of lost his grip on the present.Then, the next thing I knew, he was unconscious and shaking.I figured it was a seizure, so I called 9-1-1.The paramedics say he’s okay, and they showed me his medical alert card with your number on it.” I felt entirely out of my depth. I knew Bean—really, I did. But there were also things I clearly didn’t know and probably needed to figure out.

“Ah, hell.” Nash groaned softly. “He hasn’t had one of those in a while. Are they transporting him?”

“No. Though if you think they should?—”