Read Online Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) by Stephie Walls - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stephie Walls
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whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of hers, she’s not sharing. Piper’s quiet for most of the ride, so I don’t push. I understand my wife’s fear. I get it.
“Moby, when did you start feeling bad?”
“I’ve had a headache for a couple days.”
“Is that it? Just the headache?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Last night I felt weird. There were a couple times I got really dizzy like I’d stood up too fast, but it passed as quickly as it came, so I didn’t think much about it.”
“Anything else?”
I hesitate—this is like the Spanish Inquisition. I know I’m about to piss her off, but she was sick. “Last night after you went to bed my hand started to tingle, kind of like it was asleep. I couldn’t get it to stop.”
She glares at me, giving me serious stink eye, before turning back to the road. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I didn’t think it was anything to get worked up over.”
“We will revisit that later. What happened after that?”
“The tingling started in my leg,” I say it like it’s insignificant but based on my rapid decline I know now it isn’t. “I laid down on the couch hoping it would go away. I didn’t want to come to bed and wake you up.”
“So when you woke up it was worse?”
“I never went to sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable, and the tingling never stopped.”
“You’ve been up all night?” The shrill tone of her voice is indicative of her anxiety level. We are at DEFCON five. She’s cute when she’s stressed out. Her nose scrunches up at the top just a tad. Now probably wouldn’t be the best time to tell her.
I ignore that question because I’ve already answered it. “When I heard your alarm, I got up. You know the rest.”
“When did the dizzy spells start?”
“I had the first one when you sent me the text asking me to get you medicine at the drug store.” I mentally start to count down to the eruption, knowing she’s about to explode.
“You drove like that? What were you thinking, Moby? I would have come to get you!”
“I was thinking I didn’t feel good, and just wanted to get home but my wife was sick. I thought it was what you would do for me.” I shouldn’t snap at her. She had no idea how I was feeling last night. If she did, she wouldn’t have asked me to stop. It’s my own fault for repeatedly lying to her and telling her my head wasn’t hurting anymore.
She shakes her head, not saying another word until we arrived at Regional Hospital.
Her dad must have flown to beat us here. He lives ten minutes farther than we do, but here he is, standing outside the emergency room waiting to help me out of the car with two nurses in tow. Opening my door, he steps in to help me out; I assume he has no information about why we’re here because Piper didn’t tell him anything.
Swinging my right leg out the door, I try to the other one with it. It doesn’t move. No matter how hard I try to make the muscles do as I will them, my leg isn’t budging. Frustrated, I use my hands to lift it out of the car. The tingling in my left hand has rendered it useless, but I try just the same. Her dad, after watching me struggling for a second, reaches in the car and lifts my foot out the door before leaning in to bear hug me out. Once I’m up and out, my right leg is useful but just enough to allow me to pivot into the wheelchair, the nurse has lined up with the door.
Her dad leans back in the car and says, “Go park the car. I’ll take him in.”
She hands him my wallet. “His insurance card is in it. I’ll be right there.”
From the moment the wheelchair starts moving, everything becomes surreal. I see the people in the waiting room, the buzz of constant chatter fills my ears, but the nurse doesn’t stop. She takes me back to triage, talking a mile a minute, asking me to detail the last few hours. Her voice reminds me of Minnie Mouse and I’m having a hard time focusing on anything other than her animated tone.
“Moby, when did you start feeling bad?”
“I’ve had a headache for a couple days.”
“Is that it? Just the headache?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Last night I felt weird. There were a couple times I got really dizzy like I’d stood up too fast, but it passed as quickly as it came, so I didn’t think much about it.”
“Anything else?”
I hesitate—this is like the Spanish Inquisition. I know I’m about to piss her off, but she was sick. “Last night after you went to bed my hand started to tingle, kind of like it was asleep. I couldn’t get it to stop.”
She glares at me, giving me serious stink eye, before turning back to the road. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“I didn’t think it was anything to get worked up over.”
“We will revisit that later. What happened after that?”
“The tingling started in my leg,” I say it like it’s insignificant but based on my rapid decline I know now it isn’t. “I laid down on the couch hoping it would go away. I didn’t want to come to bed and wake you up.”
“So when you woke up it was worse?”
“I never went to sleep. I couldn’t get comfortable, and the tingling never stopped.”
“You’ve been up all night?” The shrill tone of her voice is indicative of her anxiety level. We are at DEFCON five. She’s cute when she’s stressed out. Her nose scrunches up at the top just a tad. Now probably wouldn’t be the best time to tell her.
I ignore that question because I’ve already answered it. “When I heard your alarm, I got up. You know the rest.”
“When did the dizzy spells start?”
“I had the first one when you sent me the text asking me to get you medicine at the drug store.” I mentally start to count down to the eruption, knowing she’s about to explode.
“You drove like that? What were you thinking, Moby? I would have come to get you!”
“I was thinking I didn’t feel good, and just wanted to get home but my wife was sick. I thought it was what you would do for me.” I shouldn’t snap at her. She had no idea how I was feeling last night. If she did, she wouldn’t have asked me to stop. It’s my own fault for repeatedly lying to her and telling her my head wasn’t hurting anymore.
She shakes her head, not saying another word until we arrived at Regional Hospital.
Her dad must have flown to beat us here. He lives ten minutes farther than we do, but here he is, standing outside the emergency room waiting to help me out of the car with two nurses in tow. Opening my door, he steps in to help me out; I assume he has no information about why we’re here because Piper didn’t tell him anything.
Swinging my right leg out the door, I try to the other one with it. It doesn’t move. No matter how hard I try to make the muscles do as I will them, my leg isn’t budging. Frustrated, I use my hands to lift it out of the car. The tingling in my left hand has rendered it useless, but I try just the same. Her dad, after watching me struggling for a second, reaches in the car and lifts my foot out the door before leaning in to bear hug me out. Once I’m up and out, my right leg is useful but just enough to allow me to pivot into the wheelchair, the nurse has lined up with the door.
Her dad leans back in the car and says, “Go park the car. I’ll take him in.”
She hands him my wallet. “His insurance card is in it. I’ll be right there.”
From the moment the wheelchair starts moving, everything becomes surreal. I see the people in the waiting room, the buzz of constant chatter fills my ears, but the nurse doesn’t stop. She takes me back to triage, talking a mile a minute, asking me to detail the last few hours. Her voice reminds me of Minnie Mouse and I’m having a hard time focusing on anything other than her animated tone.
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