One of them stops a few paces away from me, his hands at his sides, facing palm out, as if to show me he’s not a threat. “Sir, I’m the hotel manager, Arthur Spokemore. We’ve gotten complaints. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “My boyfriend is in there, and he’s in trouble. I won’t leave until he answers the door.”
“Sir, the occupants of the room have already checked out. No one is in there. Now please?—”
“Open the fucking door then. Open the door and prove to me it’s empty. He called me and told me he was here.” The man glances at the guy he walked down the hallway with, and I snap. “Stop fucking looking at him! Open this fucking door, or I won’t leave. Call the fucking cops, I don’t care. But I’m not going anywhere until I see for myself that he’s not in this fucking room!”
The man sighs, but he motions for his partner to step forward. The second man swipes the key against the sensor, and it flashes green.
I grab the door handle and push through before he can open it for me. Immediately after bursting into the room, I see Wesley on the floor, his phone in his hand, but he’s not conscious.
“Oh, fuck. Wesley. Jesus fuck.” I rush over to him andpull his head onto my lap. With shaky hands, I check to see if he has a pulse and sob when I feel the steady thump under my fingertips, though it’s too slow for my liking.
Dimly, I hear the hotel manager on the phone with emergency services, but I can only focus on Wesley. His body is limp, his skin is clammy, and his lips have a blue tint to them.
I’m not an idiot—I know he overdosed on whatever he got his hands on. My heart hurts for him because he’s been trying so hard to avoid temptation.
What happened? What went wrong?
I glance around the room and see bottles of tequila and vodka scattered around the floor. The smell of the liquor invades my nose, making my stomach roil.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper as I stroke his hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you. I swear, I got you.”
“Sir,” a new voice says, and I look up to see a paramedic at my shoulder. How the fuck did they get here so fast? “I’m sorry, but we need access to him.” The woman gives me a gentle smile meant to set me at ease. It does but only moderately. “You can be with him the entire time, I promise.”
Nodding, I gently lower his head down to the floor and slide back, allowing her and her colleagues to reach Wesley. She pulls something from her bag and places it under his nose. Nothing happens for what seems like forever, then Wes breathes in deeply and coughs, his eyes fluttering open.
A choked sob bursts out of me, and I try to rush over to him, but I’m blocked by the paramedics as they pick him up and place him on the gurney I didn’t notice. Once he’s strapped down, they roll him quickly out of the room and into the elevator. I just manage to squeeze in with him, pushing them out of the way so I can grab his hand.
Tears streak his face as he gazes up at me, regret all over his expression. “Jaxon…”
“Shhh. It’s alright. They’re going to get you some help, okay? I’ll be there for you.”
He nods, then turns his face away from me, gentle sobs making his body tremble.
Everything happens in a blur of activity, and I find myself driving frantically behind the ambulance.
When we get to the hospital, I rush inside and follow the gurney everywhere they go, keeping my eyes on Wesley the entire time. But he won’t meet my gaze. He purposely looks at everything else as he answers the doctor’s questions.
My heart twists as I listen to him chronicle everything he’s taken tonight. His voice is laced with regret as he talks, tears clouding his words.
Once the doctor is finished asking his questions, he gestures for me to step out of the room with him so we can talk in private.
“What is your connection to the patient?” he asks.
“He’s my husband,” I lie, thankful no one has recognized him and if they did, they haven’t made a thing out of it. HIPAA and all that shit.
He sighs and clicks his pen over and over, driving my anxiety up the wall. “It’s too soon to tell, but from the paramedics’ use of Narcan, he overdosed tonight. From everything that he’s used, I’m surprised he’s still alive.”
I pull my lips in and wrap my arms around my middle, trying to hold myself together. So hard, he’s tried so hard to stay clean. He was doing so well, avoiding using or drinking, even when the temptation was in front of his face. I need to know what happened tonight so I can help him.
“Will he be okay?”
“We’ll run some tests to be sure. He should be able to leave in a few hours after observation.”
I nod and shake his hand.
When I step back into the room, Wesley is asleep, the blanket pulled up to his chin as his chest rises and falls slowly.
