Chapter 7
SEVEN
His beautiful heart.
BAILEY
The first thing I became aware of was a throbbing somewhere deep in my head. The second was that I hurt in a hundred different ways. My palms stung, my chest ached—especially when I inhaled—and any time I twitched, my muscles screamed in protest.
I tried to fool myself into going back to sleep, burrowing into the warm blankets and keeping my eyes firmly closed. It worked to an extent. I drifted in and out, becoming aware of my aches and pains each time I surfaced.
Eventually, I lifted my heavy eyelids, blinked against the brightness, and looked around. The walls were that standard off-white color that so many places shared, and the mattress beneath me was too firm to be mine. Not to mention the fact that I had a little more color in my bedroom than this.
Was I in the hospital?
I sniffled, whimpering when a shard of pain sliced through my poor nose. Fucking ouch.
Okay, but it did kind of smell of antiseptic and cleaning solution, like a hospital.
I needed to get up properly so I could look around. I planted my hands and started to push myself up but cried out when a searing pain tore through my hands like I’d laid them on a hot stovetop.
Dropping onto my back, I lifted my hands and stared at them. They were bandaged. What the hell had happened?
The door flew open, and Max rushed in, his eyes wide and his lips parted. When he saw me, he slowed. “Are you okay?”
He strode to my side and scanned me as if searching for mortal wounds.
Maybe it was wrong of me, but I kind of liked seeing him worry like that.
It showed that he cared, and I was more than willing to lie here and let him fuss over me, even if I didn’t understand what was going on or why I was here.
“Why did you cry out?” he asked, meeting my gaze now that he’d apparently decided I wasn’t about to bleed out in the bed of the… medical center?
I grimaced, then flinched when that hurt too. “I tried to sit up.”
He sighed and rubbed his chest. “Just stay lying down for now. Your body needs rest. If you want to get up later, call for me, and I’ll help you.”
I was tempted to ask what I was supposed to do if I needed to pee, but considering I had a creeping feeling that I was missing more than a few minutes’ worth of memories, it was possible that problem had already cropped up and had to be addressed.
If that was the case, did I really want to know? Or would I prefer to continue believing that Max had no idea I possessed normal human bodily functions?
Yeah, definitely the second option.
“How do you feel?” he asked, pressing the backs of his fingers to my forehead so gently, my heart ka-thunked in a way it really shouldn’t.
“My head hurts.” I silently assessed the rest of me. “Actually, everything does. What happened? Why am I here?”
“You activated the emergency signal on your personal locator beacon. We found you unconscious near the East Ridge Trail. You had injuries consistent with either a fall or…”
“Or what?” My mind was too fuzzy to recall much of anything.
“Or a physical assault. The doctor at Queenstown Hospital considers that the latter is more likely, and I agree with her.”
He looked sick at the thought. I probably should, too, but my thoughts were trickling like molasses, so it made sense that my emotions were probably delayed as well.
“Am I… okay?”
Because he was saying I’d been beaten, right?
His mouth turned down at the corners. “You have two cracked ribs, a broken finger—it’s been splinted—a few cuts, and a lot of bruising. Your nose was broken, and you probably have a concussion.”
I wanted to rub my temples or shake my head to clear my brain of fog, but that didn’t seem like the best idea. “Is that why thinking is so hard?”
“Probably. What do you remember?”
I racked my mind. I knew I’d intended to hike the East Ridge Track, but beyond that, I couldn’t lock on to anything concrete. In fact, the last thing I clearly recalled was Max walking me to my car after the Braddock brunch. “I don’t know.”
He dragged a chair over and sat beside me.
“That’s understandable. Short-term memory loss isn’t uncommon with a concussion.
Your memories will probably come back to you over the next few days or weeks.
Don’t push yourself, but you should be aware that the police will want to know what you do remember.
They’ll have to take a statement from you for the investigation. ”
Investigation?
Well, yeah. I guess if someone had attacked me, then it was a criminal matter. Unfortunately, I’d be absolutely no help to the police at the moment.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to walk back through the day. I’d gotten up and made a salad, taken it to Heather and Eugene’s place, shared brunch, and managed to talk to Max without embarrassing myself.
I knew what I must have done after that: gone home, put on makeup, chosen my outfit, packed my bag, and left for the hike, but the images that danced through my mind were vague and could have been from any of more than a dozen outings.
An ache started behind my eye, and I gave up and huffed, irritated with myself. It shouldn’t be so hard to remember something that happened only… huh.
“What day is it?” I asked.
“Monday.” He rose from the chair. “I’ll get you a drink. Are you hungry?”
I tried to tune in to my stomach, but with everything throbbing and my head so achy, it was impossible to tell. If it had been a day, I’d need to keep my strength up, though.
“Maybe for something light.”
He smiled, and even now, when there wasn’t an inch of me that didn’t hurt, it melted me. “Mum brought vegetable soup. How about that?”
“Sounds good.”
It was typical of Heather to want to take care of me. Tears prickled in my eyes. I’d really love a mum-hug right now, but I couldn’t hug my own because she was halfway down the country.
Had someone told her?
Surely they must have. Was she coming? And would she bring Dad with her so they could sandwich me between them the way they’d done when I was young?
I whimpered and realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks.
Max came in, carrying a glass of water. “What’s wrong?” he asked, hurrying to my side and setting the glass on the table beside the bed.
I tried to tell him that I didn’t know, but what came out was a muffled wail. God, if I hadn’t scared him off already, this was sure to do the trick.
Hesitantly, Max put his arm around me. The embrace was so soft that I hardly felt it, but his body heat radiated through me. I buried my face in his chest and bawled. He made a gentle shushing sound and stroked my hair with a tenderness that made me cry harder.
Why was I like this?
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe here. I’ve got you. Let it all out, sweetheart.”
I took solace in the strength of his chest and his familiar antiseptic scent. Eventually, my eyes puffy and probably hideously red, I managed to pull myself together and stop crying.
“Can I have a drink?” I whispered, because crying used up a lot of energy.
“Sure. Let me help you with it.”
He released me cautiously, as if I might lapse into sobs at any moment—a distinct possibility—and raised the glass to my lips. He tipped it up, and I drank a few mouthfuls, enough to ease the dryness of my throat.
At any other time, I might have enjoyed his help, but I just felt wretched.
“Has someone told Mum and Dad?” I asked as he moved the glass away.
He nodded. “They aren’t able to come to Destiny Falls because your Dad is at sea and your mum has your grandmother to care for, but she’s asked if you’ll call her as soon as you feel up to it.”
My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, doing my best not to cry again. I really would love to see Mum, but Granny wasn’t in any condition to travel, and she wouldn’t let anyone else assist her, so I understood.
“Do you still want that soup?” Max asked.
“Yes, please.”
He left the glass on the table and disappeared out of the room. When he returned, it wasn’t only with a bowl of soup that smelled delicious but with Nate in tow too.