Chapter 3

He moved through the living room, past the kitchen with its yellow sticky note still on the fridge, and down the hallway to her bedroom. The door was closed. He knocked, then knocked again harder when there was no response.

"Ericka, are you in there? We need to talk."

But there was no answer.

“Ericka, I’m coming in OK, I just want to talk.” He opened the door to find it just as it usually was, neat and tidy, only the stuff she needed for her classes was missing.

A message came up on his phone, a friend of his from his fitness classes: Man, everything all right? I just saw Ericka, she’s not looking so good. Apparently, someone found her passed out by a tree near the library. They're sending her to the hospital, dude. I managed to get her stuff, but in it, there was a listing for a place of her own. Did you know she was looking into buying her own place?

Dominic's heart hammered against his ribs as he read the message. The words blurred together, forcing him to read it twice. Ericka. Hospital. Passed out.

"Shit!" He slammed his fist against the doorframe, pain shooting up his arm. He didn't care.

He texted back frantically: Which hospital? What happened?

The three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. Dominic paced the small confines of Ericka's room, running his hand through his hair. His gaze caught on her bookshelf—romance novels mixed with Victorian literature, all arranged by colour rather than author. The sight made his chest ache.

His phone buzzed. County General. Not sure what happened exactly. Someone found her unconscious near the east entrance of the library. She's dehydrated for sure. Paramedics said maybe stress or exhaustion.

Dominic grabbed his keys and wallet, already heading for the door. The mention of a property listing nagged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside. That could wait. Ericka needed him.

The drive to County General took fifteen agonising minutes. Every red light felt like an eternity. He kept replaying last night in his head. The kiss. The way he'd pushed her away. Her hurt expression. Had she been up all night? Had she eaten anything? Had she taken her medication?

"Dammit," he muttered, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Ericka had been diagnosed with low blood pressure last year. She was supposed to stay hydrated and eat regularly. She'd been so good about it, always carrying that ridiculous pink water bottle everywhere.

He parked haphazardly in the hospital lot and sprinted to the entrance. The antiseptic smell hit him as soon as he pushed through the automatic doors. He hated hospitals, had ever since his mother's long illness when he was a teenager.

"I'm looking for Ericka Matthews," he told the receptionist, trying to keep his voice steady. "She was brought in this morning."

The woman typed something into her computer. "Are you family?"

"No, I'm her..." Dominic hesitated. What was he? Roommate? Landlord? Friend? The man who kissed her then pushed her away? "I'm her emergency contact." It wasn't a lie. They'd put each other down years ago, when they'd first moved in together.

The receptionist nodded. "She's in the ER, bay fourteen. Down that hall, through the double doors."

Dominic barely remembered to thank her before rushing in the direction she'd pointed. The emergency department was a maze of curtained areas and beeping machines. He scanned the numbers above each bay until he found fourteen.

He hesitated at the curtain, suddenly unsure. What if she didn't want to see him? What if he was the last person she wanted to see?

But he couldn't turn back now, not after last night. The curtain was slightly parted, and through the gap, Dominic could see her. Ericka lay on the hospital bed, looking smaller than he'd ever seen her. An IV line snaked from her arm to a bag of fluids hanging overhead. Her eyes were closed, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. Her usually vibrant complexion was pale, almost grey, under the harsh fluorescent lights.

He stepped inside, the curtain swishing softly behind him. "Ericka."

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, something like relief flickered across her face before it shuttered into careful neutrality. "Dominic. What are you doing here?"

"Marcus texted me. He saw them loading you into the ambulance." Dominic moved closer, his hands shaking with the urge to touch her, to make sure she was real and breathing and okay. He shoved them into his pockets instead. "What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

Ericka turned her head away, staring at the monitor tracking her vitals. "Didn't think you'd want to hear from me. Given... everything."

"Given..." Dominic's voice cracked. He pulled the plastic chair closer to her bed and sat down heavily. "Ericka, I've been looking for you all morning. I went to the library, to your class, and back to the apartment. I've been going out of my mind."

"You shouldn't have bothered." Her voice was flat, exhausted. "I was handling it."

"Handling it? You passed out by a tree!" The words came out harsher than he intended, and he saw her flinch. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I just... when Marcus said you were in the hospital, I thought..." He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice the terror that had gripped him during that drive.

A nurse bustled in, checking Ericka's vitals and adjusting the IV drip. "Good news, Ms Matthews. Your levels are stabilising. The doctor wants to keep you for another few hours for observation, but you should be able to go home this evening." She glanced at Dominic. "Make sure she eats something substantial and gets plenty of rest. No all-nighters for at least a week."

"She will," Dominic said firmly.

The nurse left, and silence stretched between them. Dominic watched Ericka's profile, the stubborn set of her jaw, the way she refused to look at him.