Until There Was You(54)

“You don’t look so good,” Posey said, aiming her light at his face. It seared his retinas, and he closed his eyes and held up his hand. “Liam? You’re white as a ghost.”

“Push the damn button,” he ground out, pulling in another breath. His chest felt like it was in a vise, and he couldn’t inhale deeply enough to get sufficient air. A rasping sound came from his throat.

“Holy Elvis! Are you okay?”

“The button, Cordelia, the button!” Finally, she pushed the thing. A bell rang, then went silent. Not reassuring. Not one bit. Cordelia dropped to her knees beside him. “Liam?” she asked, shining that stupid light into his face yet again. Her eyes widened in horror. “You’re all clammy! Does your chest hurt? It does, doesn’t it?”

It did. And apparently he was rubbing it with one fist. She grabbed his wrist and gripped it, the flashlight clattering to the floor. “No, no, no,” she muttered, yanking her phone from her pocket. “Hello? We’re stuck in the elevator in the Mirren Building, and I think a man’s having a heart attack! I can’t tell… No, he’s down…and I— Okay, okay!”

“It’s not…” But what if it was a heart attack and not simple, choking panic? The vise on his chest clamped down harder. “Cordelia, I—”

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” She shoved him to the floor with surprising strength, thunking his head against the floor, and if he’d had the air, he would’ve told her to knock it the hell off, but—

“Oh, please, don’t die, don’t die,” Cordelia chanted, ripping open his shirt. She put her ear against his chest. “Bieber! I can’t hear anything, he’s gasping! I think he’s dying!” Her phone clattered to the floor, and she was suddenly straddling him, her knees pinning his arms.

“Cordelia,” he managed, and— Oof! What little oxygen remained in Liam’s chest was suddenly pushed out as Cordelia began pushing on him. Hard. “Cord— Oof!” Crap! That hurt!

“Hang in there, Liam! Think of Nicole! Hey! 911 people! I dropped the phone, hurry up, hurry up!” She pushed down again, and a searing pain lanced through Liam’s right side.

“Stop,” he grunted. She was killing him.

The elevator lurched, then rumbled, then began descending again. “Thank you, God!” Cordelia said, giving him another compression. The pain in his side flashed light behind his eyes, and Liam managed to wrench his arm free grab and her wrist. “Stop fighting, Liam!” she said, wrestling with him. “Help is on the way!” Another chest compression, another white-hot pain down his side.

Then the doors opened, Cordelia barked, “He’s having a heart attack!” and the paramedics descended.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“NO SIGN OF A HEART attack,” the doctor said. “Looks like you just cracked a rib.”

That’s right, Posey thought. Rub it in.

“I didn’t crack a rib,” Liam said, his words running together. “She did. She broke me.”

“It looked like a heart attack,” Posey snapped. “Go back to sleep.”

He’d dropped right off after the first shot of painkiller. Men. Such wimps. She’d broken two fingers last year trying to move a fountain with Mac, wrapped them with electrical tape and got back to work. “It wasn’t a heart attack.” He sounded like a grumpy toddler.

“I know, Liam! But if it had been, maybe I would’ve saved your life, okay?” She turned to the doctor for some female solidarity. “He was clammy, rubbing his chest, couldn’t breathe. Err on the side of caution, I figured.”

“Panic attacks can look a lot like cardiac issues, you’re right,” the obviously brilliant woman said.

“See?” Posey said, looking at Liam. His eyes seemed to be moving in opposite directions.

“You broke me.”

“Oh, sac up and stop whining.”

“Some nurse you make. Why don’t you just stab me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Are you two married?” the doctor asked.

“No!” they snapped in unison.

“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Well, Mr. Murphy, we have a consult coming in, and then you’ll be able to go home, okay? Just rest for now.” She looked at Posey. “He’ll need someone to drive him, obviously.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Posey said.

“You should,” Liam said. “You should do a lot more than drive me. You should be my servant.”

“Oh, for the love of Elvis,” she muttered.

“Here are the follow-up instructions,” the doctor said. “Call his primary physician if you have any questions. You’re free to leave after the consultation, okay? Good luck.”

Posey glanced at the sheet, which advised limited activity until he felt better (which she guessed would be never, based on the total wimp he’d been thus far). There was more information on panic attacks than cracked ribs.

A panic attack is a sudden episode of intense fear that develops for no apparent reason and triggers severe physical reactions. Panic attacks can be very frightening. When panic attacks occur, patients may think they’re having a heart attack or even dying.