The Forbidden Throb Chapter 17

Emma's POV:

Each vehicle splashed by without slowing, their warm, dry interiors a cruel reminder of comfort just beyond reach.

*So much for calling a rideshare*, I thought, checking my phone again.

The app showed wait times of forty-five minutes or longer – the storm had apparently brought transportation to a standstill across the area.

Only public buses maintained their routes, soldiering through the downpour with stubborn reliability.

When the 86 bus finally appeared through the rain-blurred night, I nearly sobbed with relief. I climbed aboard, water dripping from my hair and clothes, earning a sympathetic grimace from the driver.

"Rough night, huh?" he asked as I fumbled for my transit pass.

"You could say that," I managed, my teeth beginning to chatter.

The heat inside the bus did little to penetrate my sodden clothes.

I found a seat near the middle, away from other passengers, and leaned my forehead against the cool window. Streetlights smeared into watery brushstrokes as we moved through the storm.

*What a spectacularly awful day*, I thought bitterly.

From spotting Nicholas at the mall and watching him buy that silver necklace for Megan right in front of me, to being summoned home by Victoria only to discover she and Robert had been secretly asking Nicholas for money behind my back, and now getting caught in this relentless downpour.

The universe was clearly determined to remind me just how small and insignificant I really was.

By the time the bus reached my stop, I was shivering uncontrollably.

The walk to my dormitory building felt interminable, rain penetrating to my skin. When I finally stumbled into my room, I didn't even bother turning on the lights.

I simply peeled off my wet clothes, took a hot shower, pulled on the warmest pajamas I could find, and collapsed into bed, too exhausted to even dry my hair.

---

Morning arrived with a dull pounding in my temples and an uncomfortable heat beneath my skin.

I blinked at the ceiling, trying to will away the heaviness in my limbs. My throat felt like I'd swallowed sandpaper.

"Great," I croaked to the empty room.

Olivia had left for a journalism conference in New York yesterday; the neat arrangement of her desk and perfectly made bed somehow made my side of the room seem even more chaotic and pathetic.

I forced myself to sit up, immediately regretting the movement as the room tilted alarmingly.

I had a research paper due for Professor Laurent's class, and I couldn't afford to miss my afternoon tutorial. Fumbling for my phone, I saw it was already past eleven – I'd slept through my morning alarm.

"*Just push through it*," I told myself, swallowing a couple of ibuprofen dry. "*You've managed worse.*"

I managed to make it to my afternoon class, though I remembered little of the lecture.

The day passed in a blur of lectures I could barely focus on and conversations I couldn't follow.

By evening, the shivers had returned despite the unnatural heat radiating from my skin. I tried to concentrate on my laptop screen, but the words swam before my eyes, refusing to arrange themselves into coherent sentences.

When I finally gave up on work and decided to get some more medicine from the communal kitchen down the hall, I found myself strangely disoriented.

The corridor seemed longer than usual, the walls bending at odd angles.

*This isn't right*, I thought distantly, placing one hand against the wall to steady myself.

The cool surface felt shockingly good against my palm. I closed my eyes for just a moment, trying to gather my strength.

The next thing I knew, someone was saying my name, their voice seeming to come from the bottom of a well.

"Emma? Emma, can you hear me?"

I tried to respond, but my tongue felt too large for my mouth.

There were hands on my shoulders, then under my knees. The sensation of being lifted, of floating.

"She's burning up..."

"...campus health center closed for the night..."

"...take her to Mass General..."

Fragments of conversation drifted over me as consciousness ebbed and flowed.

Car doors opening and closing. The rhythm of movement. Bright lights overhead. The antiseptic smell of a hospital.

"Her ID says she's a BU student..."

"...temperature of 103.8..."

"...need to start an IV for fluids..."

Voices faded in and out like badly tuned radio stations.

I tried to focus, to respond, but the effort was too much. It was easier to let the darkness pull me under again.

---

I awoke to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the feeling of something cool against my forehead.

For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd gotten there. Then the sterile white ceiling and privacy curtains came into focus, and with them, the realization that I was in a hospital.

"Welcome back."

That voice. I knew that voice.

I turned my head slowly, wincing at the stiffness in my neck, to find Daniel Prescott sitting in a chair beside my bed.

He wore navy blue scrubs under his white coat, his hair slightly mussed as though he'd been running his hands through it.

Despite the late hour – the clock on the wall read 11:47 PM – he looked alert, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

"Daniel?" My voice came out as a rasp.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. "We seem to keep running into each other, don't we? Though I hadn't expected our next meeting to be quite like this."

I tried to sit up, but he gently pressed me back with a hand on my shoulder.

"What happened?" I asked, confusion clouding my thoughts as I glanced around the hospital room.

"Easy. You have a nasty case of influenza, compounded by exhaustion and dehydration. Your body needs rest."

"How did I..." I trailed off, struggling to piece together the fragments of memory.

"A classmate from your dormitory brought you in." He checked something on the chart at the foot of my bed. "A Ms. Rebecca Chen? She found you collapsed in the hallway and called an ambulance."

I vaguely remembered the Chinese-American girl who lived three doors down. We'd exchanged pleasantries in the elevator but never really spoken beyond that.

I made a mental note to thank her properly when I returned.

"The ER was swamped tonight – this weather always brings an influx of patients. I happened to be on duty when they brought you in."

His expression remained neutral, professional. "Your fever's come down, but I'd recommend you stay overnight for observation."

I nodded weakly, too tired to argue. "Thank you."

Daniel glanced at his watch. "Is there someone we should call? Family? A friend who could come stay with you?"

The question brought an unexpected lump to my throat.

Olivia was out of town. My grandmother was hours away in Portland. And my mother...

"I should call my mom," I said reluctantly.

Daniel nodded and handed me my phone from the bedside table.

Victoria answered on the fourth ring, her voice tight with annoyance at the late-night call.

"Emma? Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry," I began, then had to stop as a coughing fit overtook me. When I could speak again, I explained the situation as briefly as possible.

"Oh my goodness!" Her tone shifted to theatrical concern. "You're in the hospital? That's terrible, sweetheart. I would come right away, but..."

I closed my eyes, already knowing what was coming.

"Robert has that important meeting in the morning, and I can't leave Leo alone. You understand, don't you?"

"It's fine, Mom. I just wanted to let you know."

There was a pause, then her voice brightened. "You know who you should call? Nicholas! What a perfect opportunity for you two to spend some quality time together!"