Chapter 5
Lily
I’ve never been one to elevate stuff above people. I mean, how could I? I literally have nothing. But waking up to see Ranger Rick or whatever his name was, reading some of my most private thoughts—I want to murder the man.
I wince as I swallow the grittiness in my dry mouth. The slurred question I barely put together echoes in the room’s silence, and the pounding in my head intensifies as I glance around, the fluorescent lights burning my irises.
“I, uh, wasn’t reading it. It fell. Was just putting it back.” The ranger’s voice is authoritative, similar to the last time I remember him, but this time there’s also a waver in the undercurrent of his timbre.
I snort. “Yeah, looks like it.”
My leg’s asleep, and I shift, biting my lip. It feels like my head could explode. The IV in my arm stabs me, and I grab for it, ripping it out.
I half expect an alarm to sound, but nothing happens.
The man in the corner crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at me. What was his name?
Doesn’t matter.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Pinebrook Hospital. You had an accident on your hike today.” The professionalism in his voice returns, and the softness from moments ago vanishes. I’ve become the job again. I’m shocked his slobbering friend isn’t here to sniff out if I’m high or not.
I remember through the pain of my headache. The Four Mile Trail. Stopping to blow out my candle. After that, the storm opened up and the rain poured in torrents. Visibility went to hell, and by the time I almost reached Glacier Point, I turned around before the pathway washed out too much.
It wasn’t helpful. The hike down was slow and muddy. The last thing I remember was turning the corner of a switchback and slipping. The rest is black. Void.
“Right …” I say.
His hair appears lighter under the lurid hospital lights, but it’s still a dark brown buzzed into that stereotypical jarhead cut. Another second ticks by, and I’m confused by his presence. Is he here to take to a report?
There’s a knock at the door and an older man in a white lab coat enters, clipboard in hand. He smiles at me, but I can’t spare one in return.
“You’re awake!” He exclaims far too gleefully for me and this shitty migraine I’m working with.
“Appears so.”
Ranger Asshat snorts.
“Well, let me get some vitals. You had a nasty gash on that pretty head of yours, but we put a couple stitches in it, and it came together all right. Should be minimal scarring. You had a fairly serious concussion, so your head will probably feel like it’s on fire.”
I nod as he moves to listen to my heart, and my gaze floats over to the man in uniform staring back at me. He diverts his eyes.
Another ranger enters the room as the doctor drags a pointed light from his pocket and floods my vision with it, giving me commands to follow.
“I’m Ranger Dan. I’m sure you’ve met Noah already,” he says, waving around my ID in his hand.
Shit.
And Noah? Did I know that?
“You mean Ranger Rick in the corner snooping through my bag?”
Ranger Dan raises his eyebrows and chuckles. “Ranger Sullivan saved your life.”
He did? Was I close to dying? I have a concussion and a couple of stitches. Surely, I wasn’t going to die. Although, left on the trail in terrible conditions, unconscious …
I sigh, staring at Ranger Dan with a so what? look. Isn’t that his job? Like the only thing law enforcement is good for?
“He carried you miles down the trail when the communications weren’t working.”
I shrug, but inside something squeezes at my chest. I ignore it. “What? Ranger Noah couldn’t build a boat for the floodwaters?”
Even the doctor stops his annoying tests to stare in shock at me. I chew my lip, avoiding eye contact with Noah. I’m being rude, but I’m still sour over his peeking at my notebook.
Several more seconds of silence tick by before Noah clears his throat.
Ranger Dan blinks and approaches with my license. “Is there anyone we can call for you, Lily Parker? I made a call to the Ruin sheriff and spoke with one of the deputies. They were very familiar with your name. Say you haven’t been around those parts in some time.”
The rhythmic beep, beep of the monitor turns to a running beepbeepbeep giving away the thundering of my heart. “You, you called Ruin? Did you tell them where I was?”
Noah steps closer, tilting his head to the side and placing a thick, deft hand on the footboard of the bed.
Ranger Dan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Which, maybe I have. I have a head injury, after all.
“I told the deputy that you’d been in an accident and hadn’t woken up yet. That we were trying to get in touch with any family members. Is there someone specific you’d like me to call for you?”
I swallow. “No. There’s no one.”
Noah’s knuckles tighten on the rail of the bed.
“I-I have to go.” I struggle to sit up.
“Whoa now,” Dr. Young says. “Easy does it. I really should recommend you stay here overnight for observation.”
I snort. “Overnight? Listen, Doc, I don’t have insurance.”
Unfortunately, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Well, we can work with that. The hospital has programs for those who can’t afford their stay. I can send someone up to help you file some paperwork.”
I have to admit the thought of sleeping in my car with the knife-like pain stabbing through my head has me wanting to curl up in the fetal position and cry.
Maybe sleeping in a normal bed would be good, refreshing, but …
I seriously can’t afford any of it. Have-to-scrounge-around-the-dark-recesses-of-my-car-for-change, can’t afford it.
“I need to get back to my car,” I say.
Dr. Young shakes his head. “Even with a mild concussion, I must recommend against driving for one to two days.”
I glare at him. “I’m fine.”
“Listen, how about you stay overnight tonight to make sure everything is okay, and I will come back tomorrow to drive you home,” Noah speaks up, studying me from his annoying perch at the end of the bed.
It’s like he’s glaring down at me, and I narrow my eyes at him. “One good deed for the day just isn’t enough for you, huh?” I snap.
I don’t want to appear desperate, but I definitely don’t have anyone I can call to bring me to my car. Maybe my boss, but he’s at the diner all the time and never takes a break, not even for his own kids.
There’s no home for me to return to, but I don’t say that. Instead, I keep my mouth shut, weighing my options.
Noah steps back, like I’ve struck him. It isn’t new for people to look at me the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m so screwed up in the head any decency I’ve acquired in my younger years is now sparse enough to act like a total bitch. I’m used to it.
“I’ll call in the morning to see if she’s ready for discharge then I’ll take her home. Thanks, Dr. Young. Dan, I’ll see you around. I have paperwork to fill out.” Then, gaze skimming past me, he dips his head and walks out the door.
Sliding down in the bed, I slip the cool sheets up and over me, contemplating the sudden loss of warmth with Noah’s departure.
“Are you sure there’s no one I can call for you?” Ranger Dan reaches toward his chest, removing a business card from his uniform’s front pocket.
I shake my head, wincing with the movement. Sleep. I need sleep. I’m exhausted. My head continues to pound even while Dr. Young and Ranger Dan exchange words I don’t hear.
When they exit the room, I roll my head toward the tiny window situated in the far-left corner. The desire to write presses me, but the heaviness of my eyelids wins out.
For the moment, I’m safe. And whether I hate the thought of it, Noah is the reason for that.
They took my soaked clothes when I got to the hospital and put me in one of those barely there gowns.
As I roll out of bed in the morning, feeling hit by a semitruck, the chilled air bites my exposed ass and I curse, fumbling to close the fabric behind me.
If it could even constitute as fabric. More like a paper napkin.
I shuffle to the en suite bathroom to relieve myself, which is a breeze with the spotted gown. At least it has that going for it.
When I exit, my door is cracked open. A thin slice of light shines along the dingy floor and, on instinct, I search the room. There’s no one here.
Voices trickle in through the sliver, muffled and deep.
The clock on the wall opposite my hospital bed tick, tick, ticks but it’s only 8:00 a.m. The familiar voice of the male nurse who interrupted my sleep seventy-five times last night to take my blood pressure and other vitals says words like, “she’s up” and “I’ll get the discharge papers. ”
I tiptoe on the cold floor, sockless—which is just lovely—toward the door.
Quietly, I widen the gap enough to poke my head out.
Fitted pressed pants in that awful forest green stand at the nurse’s station.
Noah’s stocky thighs fill them out, and my gaze roves over his backside until I’m staring square at his wide shoulders.
He’s in full ranger uniform today, including the hat, which makes me cringe.
He nods as the nurse hands over a packet of papers, and I scowl.
A cart squeaks in the opposite direction, and I scan past the cafeteria lady rolling breakfast trays down the hall and spot the large EXIT sign at the end. The stairs. I wonder if I’d make it there before someone noticed me.
My feet slap against the tiled flooring as I hightail it over to the heavy door, gown flapping open be damned.
I make it all of four long strides before—
“Ms. Parker!”
Shit.
When I turn, the male nurse runs up to me, and I chance a peek at Noah who leans, unfazed, against the nurse station with raised eyebrows.
“Ms. Parker, I’ve got your discharge papers right here. We need to go over them before you leave, and I believe Ranger Sullivan was going to drive you home? And, um”—he swallows, eyes dipping down my front—“wouldn’t you like to change first?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t exactly have anything to change into, but I guess … what the hell.”