Chapter 1 #2
I lift my hand to the throbbing spot on the back of my head and hiss as I press my fingers to the tender knot.
“Easy,” he says, reaching for my hand and gently pulling it away from my head.
I hadn’t realized how cold I am until his warm hand wrapped around mine.
His fingers are long and slender, and there are calluses on his palms. But it’s the warmth I notice most. Seeping into my skin before he pulls it away.
“What happened?” I ask when he drops my hand and returns to typing something on the computer. It illuminates his face in a blue glow.
He looks back at me, leaning against the desk. There’s something so casually graceful in the way he moves, long lines that stretch on and on. “Your friend…” he trails off, lifting his brows in question.
“Wren,” I supply, a little surprised I have to. Everyone in our little speck of a town knows each other, and I’m not used to seeing people I don’t at least recognize. But he’s new. I would definitely remember him.
“Wren,” he says with a nod. “She said she heard a loud noise when you were on the phone and the line went dead. She went to your place and found you passed out, a huge knot on your head.” He gestures to a spot on his own head, right where his hairline meets his neck, where mine is throbbing.
“You were in and out when they brought you in, and then you fell asleep after we gave you some pain meds. Do you remember anything?”
I shake my head and the pain intensifies. He watches me, seeing the wince I try to hide.
“Slow movements,” he tells me, voice gentle but commanding.
“I don’t remember the ride here,” I tell him, sinking back into my pillows. “The last thing I remember was talking to Wren and hearing a loud crash.” I blink, stars pricking behind my eyelids as I do. “Do you know what happened?”
“No,” he says with a shake of his head. “But I’ll send them back in here to answer your questions whenever you’re ready.”
I let my eyes drift back toward the door. I can still hear my mom outside, chattering loudly on the phone with my dad. She sounds concerned, and the worry I felt earlier returns, lead sinking in my gut and thoughts swirling around in my aching head.
“Maybe just another minute,” I tell him. I feel a little guilty. I should bring them back in here, ask my mom what’s going on, but fatigue clings to me, weighing my eyelids down. The chill in the room finally gets to me, and I shiver beneath my thin blanket.
“Cold?” His gaze flicks from the monitor to me.
I nod. I’m not usually so transparent, but he’s observant. It’s unnerving.
He crosses to a cabinet and pulls out another light blanket. He drapes it over me, hands quick and efficient as he tucks it gently around my shoulders. His fingers brush my skin where the gown has slipped, and I go still, breath catching on instinct more than anything else.
It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, and I’m not in my right mind. I’m so tired that an innocent touch from my nurse sends goosebumps rippling across my skin.
He seems to realize it, too, because he steps back almost immediately, clearing his throat as his hips sink against the desk again, long legs stretching out in front of him and slender hands gripping the wood.
“Thank you,” I murmur. I don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed.
He nods. “Better?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Good.” A monitor beeps somewhere down the hall, but he doesn’t move yet.
“You likely have a concussion, based on the fact that you lost consciousness and have some gaps in memory, but the doctor on shift tonight ordered a CT scan to check for anything more serious. You’ll need someone to stay with you for the next twenty-four hours to monitor your symptoms. Have you had any concussions or other head injuries in the past? ”
“No.” A little surprising, considering my line of work. I’ve experienced many twisted and sprained ankles, scraped knees and elbows, and more pulled muscles than I can count, but I’ve managed to never hit my head. And judging by how I feel right now, I’m glad for it.
“That’s good,” he says, lips quirking in another uneven grin. A dimple appears in his cheek. “I’ve had my fair share, and every single one feels worse than the last.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You get a lot of head injuries working in the ER?”
He fingers the pocket on his scrub pants, pulling at a frayed thread. “Nah, I worked on a ranch in high school. Got kicked and thrown off enough horses to know to keep my distance.”
It’s surprising. He’s muscular but lean, tall but not imposing. Messy hair and kind eyes. Not the type I would have expected to see working on a ranch.
“So you’re not from here,” I say. “I knew I didn’t recognize you.” My voice is raspier than usual, my throat dry after being asleep for who knows how long.
He gives me a smile that feels a little indulgent. “No, I’m new to town.”
“What—”
Before I can finish my question, the beeping noise from outside changes, sounding more urgent. Jack pushes off the desk and checks his watch, his casual demeanor slipping into professionalism. “I need to go check on another patient. Someone will be here in a few minutes to take you to your CT.”
He’s out the door before I can say anything else, and I see blue scrubs disappearing around the corner into the room next door. Silence descends again for just a moment, the room feeling oddly empty before Wren and Holden come back in, my mother nowhere to be found.
“Your mom had to head home,” Wren says, answering the question before I can ask. “Your grandma got confused and upset and your dad needed help calming her down.”
That happens a lot during storms, and my mom leaving suddenly probably didn’t help. Guilt pricks at me once more, and although I try to hide it from Wren, I know she sees it.
“They’ll be fine,” she assures me.
I force a smile. “Yeah, I know.”
The door opens again, and another nurse comes in.
This woman, I recognize. She used to work at one of the pediatric offices in town.
Although my hometown, Fontana Ridge, is a tourist town, I know almost everyone who lives here.
We’re a small, tight-knit community, and new people are few and far between.
“Hi, Stevie. I’m here to take you to your CT.” She looks at Wren and Holden. “She should be back in about fifteen minutes.”
Sleep tugs at me as I’m wheeled across the hall and back to my room under the harsh fluorescent lights after finishing my CT scan.
I catch a glimpse of Jack laughing with another nurse at the desk, leaning on it the same way he was in my room.
My lids are heavy as the nurse helps me back into my bed, my head swimming.
Wren watches me with concerned blue eyes.
I sink into the pillows and roll my head toward her. “So what happened?”
Her bottom lip catches between her teeth and dread courses through me.
“How bad is it?” I ask before she gets a chance to respond.
She lets out a sigh, resignation pulling at her delicate features. “Bad.”
My head pounds, tension forming a knot in the space between my brows. It’s the middle of fall, my busiest season, and I’m going to have to spend every spare moment working on repairs. I just know it.
I close my eyes against the harsh lights. “I’ll assess the damage in the morning. I just want to pass out in my bed tonight. Can you stay with me? The nurse said someone needed to be with me for twenty-four hours.”
It can be like old times, back before Wren married Holden and had his baby and became a stepmom to his daughter.
Back when we used to cram into my little Airstream and eat whatever recipe I was experimenting with at the time and watch movies on my tiny TV, the one that could rival Michael Scott’s in The Office.
We haven’t had one of those nights in months, and it’s as much my fault as it is hers.
We both have more responsibilities than ever.
I remember when I used to dread winter in Fontana Ridge, when I would feel like the walls of my Airstream were closing in on me and I would go stir crazy trying to find things to fill my time until the town came alive again in the spring.
Now I’m counting down the days until I can slow down, until I can have a single moment to myself without feeling like the weight of my responsibilities are threatening to collapse me.
I really don’t need a damaged home to deal with right now.
“Stevie…” Wren says, and I open my eyes at the gentle tone in her voice. “We can’t go back to the Airstream.”
I blink at her, the words swirling around in my pounding head. “Why?”
“There’s a hole in your roof.”