Running Mate

I hated the moment I eased Addison down onto the crackling paper sheet. I knew it was necessary for me to step away for the nurse to be able to work on her, but it went against every instinct I had, which were all telling me not to. She looked so small lying there, so fragile. She’d felt so right in my arms, so protected. Pain like I’d never known crisscrossed through my chest. I’d spent more time with Addison than I had with any other woman, had given more of my emotional self to her than anyone outside my close circle. Inexplicably, I didn’t see her as the bane of my existence anymore, my ball and chain. I also didn’t see her as an off-limits piece of ass, either. She’d become more than I’d ever imagined she could, and if I was completely honest with myself, she’d become more to me. Much more.

I didn’t have a clue how sick she really was, but I knew I couldn’t bear losing Addison. Not now. Not now that I’d actually found someone I wanted to be with.

If I was really honest with myself, I didn’t think I would be ready come November either.

ADDISON

“BP is 110 over 60. Pulse rate 58,” a voice called from above me.

As I drifted in that shadowy state between sleep and consciousness, the medical jargon being spouted made me think I was in a Grey’s Anatomy episode. Did I forget to turn the TV off before I went to sleep? The more I thought about it, I realized I couldn’t remember even turning it on. If I really thought about it, none of the voices sounded like the cast.

When my eyes fluttered open, I stared up at a blinding fluorescent light. My body felt weightless, as if it were floating along on the surface of water. It took a few moments to process that I wasn’t outside or in a pool. Instead, I was riding along on a gurney through the halls of a hospital.

Whoa. How did I get here? The last thing I remembered was being on the bus. After succumbing to a coughing fit, a knock had come at the bedroom door, and Barrett’s weird cousin offered me some medicine. He swore it would stop my coughing and help me sleep, and against my better judgment, I took some. After taking the dose he recommended, I still kept coughing. I desperately wanted sleep, so I ended up chugging a bit more of it. And then some more. Then I went to sleep…or maybe I passed out. I wasn’t sure.

“Is she going to be okay?” a voice vibrating with emotion asked. When I eased my head to the side, I saw Barrett. He wore an ashen expression, and the fear in his eyes was palpable. Instantly, my heart beat a little faster. Did he care that much for me?

“We just need to get her temperature down and some fluids in her. She’ll be fine.”

I wanted to tell Barrett not to be so scared, that I was okay, maybe a little hungover, but my tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth. The light bearing down on me became too intense, so I closed my eyes. Within a few seconds, I floated away into the darkness.

The next time I woke, it was to my bladder screaming in agony. When I reached down to toss off the covers, I caught a glimpse of the IV tubing attached to my hand. “What the…” Oh right, I was in the hospital.

A gentle snore drew my attention to the left side of the bed. “Oh my,” I murmured at the sight of Barrett sleeping in an uncomfortable-looking chair. With his head lolled over like that, he was going to wake up with an awful crick in his neck. I marveled not only at the fact that he had stayed with me, but that Mr. VIP wasn’t stretched out in a cot. Although I couldn’t see him, I imagined that Ty was somewhere outside the door.

At the sound of my name, my gaze snapped from Barrett to the television on the wall across from me. “Holy shit,” I muttered at the sight of my face plastered across the screen.

“Yes, Harry, we’re live outside McKinley Hospital in Farmington where Addison Monroe has been admitted. Earlier this morning, Pete Chandler came out to speak to us. He assured us that Miss Monroe’s condition was not critical, and said she was kept overnight merely for observation after being diagnosed with pneumonia. She is expected to be released later today with strict R&R orders. Back to you.”

I gasped at the scene that played on the television. It seriously looked like something out of a romance movie. Barrett appeared every bit a larger-than-life superhero as he swept through the hospital doors with me cradled in his arms. His frantic gaze spun around the ER as he desperately pleaded for someone to help me, the fear in his eyes achingly authentic. The panic in his voice wasn’t exaggerated. He wasn’t trying to keep up the façade for the people in the waiting room. Then I remembered waking up in the ER and how he’d looked then. He wasn’t acting then either.

He cared about me.

A lot.

I would have to say it was quite surreal hearing your medical diagnosis on the news rather than from a doctor or nurse, but it was even more earthshattering that your fake fiancé exhibited such feeling for you—especially when you weren’t sure you felt the same. As I watched him sleep, I couldn’t help noticing how sweet and innocent he looked. Sure, he was still hot as hell, but there was something endearing about him when he was at rest. The cockiness and arrogance he normally wore were washed from his expression.

After a loud snore erupted from Barrett’s lips, he jolted awake, and his brows furrowed as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings of the room. Once he realized where he was, he whipped his gaze over to me. Relief instantly replaced the tension in his face.

“Hey,” I said with a smile.

“Hey,” he croaked. As he ground his fists into his eyes, he asked, “How long have you been awake?”