The long drive around Hope Springs had done little to improve Ryan’s mood. All he’d managed was an hour and a half of self-recriminations, backed up with a repeated chorus in Percy’s voice, reminding him that he owed Hannah an apology. He’d do it before he left town, for whatever good it would accomplish. Maybe it would give her closure. For him, it would simply be another sign of how he’d fucked up.
Movement caught his eye as he pulled into the drive next to Percy’s SUV. Hannah flew down the porch steps, toward the truck. The potent mix of joy and shame at the sight of her was a punch to the gut. He hadn’t driven her away completely. But as he slid out of the driver’s seat, he got a good look at her ashen cheeks and the eyes peeled wide with fear.
“Percy! Percy’s passed out in the kitchen. I can’t get in!”
For one, chilling beat, Ryan allowed the terror. Then he locked it away, throwing himself into action. He flew past her, hitting the porch steps at a dead run. His hand fumbled the key as he jammed it into the lock, and he lost precious seconds getting it to turn instead of simply kicking the door down as he’d done his first night here. Inside, Duke was going nuts.
Hannah’s footsteps sounded behind him as he got the door open. They raced inside, following the frantic barking of the dog into the kitchen. Percy lay face down on the tile floor. One of the chairs was askew, as if he’d grabbed for it on the way down. A quick, visual assessment didn’t indicate any obvious broken bones.
Behind him, Hannah gasped. “Oh my God!”
“Dial 911.” He knelt, checking for a pulse. The beat of it pounded beneath his fingers. Dimly, he was aware of Hannah giving her name and the address as he gently rolled Percy over.
Percy moaned. “Janie? Is that you, baby?”
“Percy, it’s Ryan. Can you hear me?”
The old man moaned. Ryan checked his head for injury, but found no evidence of trauma. Why the hell had he passed out? Snapping his head up, he scanned the counter, noted the usual, huge collection of empty glasses. The three-quarters eaten pie was still on the kitchen table. Suspicion dawning, Ryan bent low to check his breath, catching the telltale fruity scent.
“Tell them we have an eighty-one-year-old male in probable diabetic ketoacidosis. Rapid heartbeat, incoherent and only semi-responsive.”
As she relayed the information, Ryan leapt to his feet and filled one of the glasses with water. Back down on the floor, he scooped an arm behind Percy’s frail shoulders and lifted him. “Come on, Percy. You gotta get some water.” As he pressed the glass to Percy’s lips, he flailed, knocking the glass away and spilling the contents down his front.
“Damn it, Percy.”
The tap switched on and a moment later, Hannah handed over another glass. Ryan tried again, taking a firmer grip on the old man’s arms. Percy tossed his head from side to side, but Ryan held firm, managing to get a little water in him.
“What’s the ETA of the ambulance?” he demanded.
“They don’t know. There was a massive, multi-car pile up at the edge of town because of the Christmas parade. There’s no ambulance available.”
Fuck.
“She says they can send somebody from the Volunteer Fire Department until an ambulance is free.”
“No time. He might slip into a coma before then. We’ve got to get him to the hospital now.”
She relayed their intent to the dispatcher.
Percy’s head lolled back. Ryan shook him. “Percy. Percy! Wake the hell up. You can’t go to sleep. Stay with me now.”
He groaned, his eyes fluttering.
“Tell me what to do.” Hannah’s voice shook.
“Find Percy’s keys. They’re probably on the hook by the front door.”
She sprinted out of the room, back only a few seconds later with the keys in her hands. “Now what?”
“Grab a few of the water bottles in the fridge.”
He shifted, scooping Percy into his arms. His weight was so slight as to be insubstantial, as if he were fading away already. Ryan should’ve figured it out sooner. He should’ve seen. He should’ve forced Percy to a doctor. Shoving away the guilt and thread of panic, he moved to the front door.
Hannah pulled it open, staying back a moment to nudge the dog back inside. Duke howled a protest at being left behind, but there was no place for him at the hospital. As soon as the door was shut, she skirted around him, yanking open the door to the backseat of Percy’s SUV. Ryan settled him inside, buckling him in to keep him from slumping over, and crawled in with him.
“Give me the water.”
She passed it over and he twisted off the cap, automatically pressing the bottle to Percy’s lips and tipping it back. At least half dribbled over his chin, but some of it went in. The old man’s throat worked as he swallowed.
“Good. That’s good, Percy. Keep drinking.”
“What—”
His gaze snapped to Hannah’s. “I have to stay back here with him to monitor his vitals and try to keep him awake while I force some water down him. You’ve got to drive.”
If possible, her face went paler. But she didn’t argue, hesitating only a moment before rounding the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. She slid behind the wheel, her breathing way too fast. It wooshed in and out, a ragged, sawing sound. From the back seat, Ryan spared her a glance. She shook like a leaf. In the rearview mirror, he spotted the tears streaming down her cheeks and the edge of full-blown panic written all over her face.
Shit.
Percy’s life depended on him getting this right. Modulating his voice to soothe, he said, “Breathe, Hannah. Slow it down. In for four, out for eight.”
Hands white-knuckled on the wheel, she did as he asked.
“You’re going to put the key in the ignition and crank the vehicle. Keep breathing.”
With a jerky nod, she followed orders.
“Check your mirrors, then put the car in reverse. We’re going to head to the hospital, and you’re going to do fine. It’s a short drive, and I’m right here with you.”
Another jerky nod, a few more breaths that had him wanting to scream, then she started the car and backed into the street. He could only pray they’d be fast enough.
Chapter 11
Hannah blinked furiously against the tears that wouldn’t seem to stop. Every muscle in her body ached with tension as she gripped the steering wheel, like that was going to offer her some kind of control of the situation. With every foot of travel, she waited for the flashback or the uncontrollable shaking.
From the backseat, Ryan’s harsh voice snapped, “Come on, old man. Don’t you dare make me call Mom. You know she’ll be down here in a minute to nurse you and drive you batshit. You want to avoid that, you stay awake!”
The whip of it made her flinch, even though it wasn’t directed at her.
As if he’d noticed her reaction, he spoke again. “You’re doing great. If you haven’t already, hit the emergency flashers.”
She hadn’t even thought of that. With trembling fingers, she stabbed the button.
“There now. That’s good. Drink some more water.”
The water bottle crackled, followed by a retching sound.