Chapter 4
brANDON
Staring at the door for the past twenty minutes hasn’t made it open.
At least not yet. I’m still hopeful, like an idiot, that the pretty redheaded nurse can read my mind.
I could have pushed the call button, and I have no doubt she would have returned quickly, but considering I don’t technically require anything, I haven’t resorted to that level of neediness.
My head throbs like it always does in the eleventh hour of the pain meds wearing off, so I stay still, not wanting to make it worse or awaken the anger in my back.
I flick on the TV, needing the distraction.
Overhearing the paramedics say I’m lucky to be alive has been running through my head for the past hour.
It’s hard to feel lucky when I’m laid up like this.
I should be focusing on healing to get out of this hospital sooner, but I can already tell it’s going to be an annoying journey to recovery.
A sexy nurse doesn’t hurt with the healing process, so I shouldn’t be in such a hurry.
But these sterile beige walls are going to get old fast. They already have.
The door opens, causing my gaze to whip to the side. I reach up to soothe the muscle I just tweaked in my neck but stop when I realize I almost ripped the IV out of my hand.
“You’re awake?” the night nurse asks, slipping in like she’s breaking the rules before closing the door quickly behind her.
“I’m awake.” And apparently, I’ve lost all game.
I smile, not because she’s made a routine round checkup feel like we’re up to no good, but because her smile evokes mine without permission.
It might be the middle of the night, but sunshine appears when she walks into the room.
The beige walls are not so dull with her soft smile around to brighten things up.
Strands of her shoulder-length hair fall to the side of her face before she tucks them behind her ear.
So many colorful rays shine throughout it, but even in the low light of the room, I can see the most prominent is a striking red.
She’s pretty without any noticeable makeup, and even baggy scrubs can’t hide her great body underneath.
When she comes closer, her eyes are lighter than mine, but the TV screen doesn’t reflect enough light to know if they’re green or blue. I’m hoping green to make a stunning combination with her hair. She asks, “How are you feeling? Any pain?”
I shift without thinking and instantly regret it. Groaning, I grit, “A little.”
“Seems like more than a little. I’ll get you something for that.” She wraps her fingers around the rail, studying me like I’m her personal experiment. “What about your appetite? I read in your chart that you haven’t eaten much.”
No ring.
No indentation.
Nothing is wrapped around her finger.
The heart monitor kicks up, exposing me. I grin. “I could eat.”
Her eyes shift to the monitor beside her, though. Busted. When she looks back at me, a laugh tickles her throat before she clears it. “Are you okay?”
“Great. Never better.”
Her eyebrows shoot straight to the ceiling. “Really? I would think you’ve been better.” She laughs, the soft melody overlapping the sports update on the TV. I click mute, hoping for the sound of her to fill the room instead.
Chuckling, I reply, “Yeah, I’ve been better.” I pick at a loose thread on the thin blanket covering my legs. “Any word on when I’m getting out of here?”
Sympathy fills her eyes as her expression changes. I hate pity, and I prefer she not wear it in my honor. “Nothing is noted. The doctors will be in after eight, but I don’t know their schedule.” She shrugs. “You’re stuck with me for the night.”
“I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
That brings her smile back around along with brighter lights from the TV, giving me a better look at her face.
Freckles scatter across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks, and the remnants of summer remain in a slight tan of her skin.
“I hate to tell you, but we’re sorely lacking in food options at this hour.
The cafeteria is closed, but I can grab you a cold sandwich or salad or heat you some soup in the microwave from the nourishment room.
Or,” she says, “I have sausage, cheese, and crackers. What are you hungry for?”
Thinking about her lips shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind, but I’m wondering how I’ve lived here my whole life and haven’t run across this beauty before.
“Mr. Culver?”
My gaze shoots up to hers. “Yeah?”
“What sounds good to you?”
I cock a brow, but that’s a cutting reminder of the pain in my head. “Right.” The throb deepens, aggravating the ache until I reach up with my free hand to rub my temple. “It all sounds like a lot of trouble for you.”
“Taking care of you is what I’m here for, so it’s no trouble at all.”
“The crackers sound good.” Not sure why, but a snack will suffice over the other options.
“Coming right up with a side of pain meds.” The rubber of her soles squeak against the shiny floor when she turns on her heels.
She pulls the door open so fast that strands of her hair fly into the air.
When she glances back, the light from the corridor shines on her, and it’s too bright to hide those pretty green eyes. “I’ll be right back.”
Damn, if I wasn’t already laid out, that smile would have knocked me on my ass.
As soon as the door closes, I rub my temple to ease the pain before reaching for the pitcher and pouring a cup of water. I drink slowly and wait before taking another sip to alleviate the dryness in my throat.
I watch the TV as the quarterback gets sacked.
The memories of the two times I experienced being tackled like that hit me like a freight train.
The concussion I got back in high school was worse than the one I have now.
I’m still hoping to bounce back just as quickly.
Age is a funny thing, though, when it comes to healing. I’m not seventeen anymore.
As soon as I take another gulp of water, the door opens again. My attention jumps from her to the whiteboard on the wall, but the only name listed is Debbie’s. Is it rude to ask her name? Seems only fair since she knows mine, which rolled off her tongue earlier like it was familiar.
She sets a white plate on the tray and then slides the table in front of me.
“Good, you have water.” She holds out a small cup with a pill at the bottom like it’s a treat I’ve earned from good behavior.
“Hopefully this will help.” After she glances at the clock on the wall, her eyes land back on mine, causing my heart to beat faster again.
I’m about to unplug that damn machine to keep it from giving away my secrets and reactions.
“If it doesn’t relieve you, in say . . . thirty minutes, let me know.”
I pop it in my mouth and chase it down with water.
She smiles, bringing that sunshine back into this gloomy room, and adds, “Let me know if you’re still hungry after this.
That turkey-and-cheese sandwich in the nutritional refrigerator is looking good.
Also, the chicken noodle soup is a solid pick. ”
“I will. Thanks.” The thought of eating soup again was not appealing. I eye the way she arranged the crackers, sausage, and cheese, alternating them around the plate. “This is good though.” I’d never tell her otherwise when she put so much effort into it.
She releases a breath as if she needed the reassurance.
I make a stack on a cracker and shove it in my mouth.
She watches, then loses her smile, and asks, “Do you remember what happened?” In a rush, her eyes drop to the bed between us, and she shakes her head.
“You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable talking about it.
I’m just being nosy.” She lowers her hand back, and a flush of color floods her cheeks. “It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” Ringing returns to my ears as a flash of heat throbs against my cheeks. And then nothing. The injuries that landed me in this hospital bed tell me it wasn’t all in my head, but it’s my head that can’t seem to grasp onto the memories that got me here. “Not much.”
Her hands find their way back to the side of the bed, holding on to the railing like she needs the support. “Do you remember what you do for a living?”
“I remember I’m a firefighter. I remember how to do my job.” Chuckling, I add, “Even my schedule for the week.” I rest my head back, staring up at the ceiling. “So much information returns so easily, most memories without hesitation, except for the grand finale.”
“What’s the grand finale?”
I chuckle, realizing firefighter humor might not land on citizens. Rolling my head to the side to face her again, I reply, “The fire. The backdraft. I can’t remember it.”
“It’s natural to block out traumatic events.” With a tilt of her head, she manages the slightest smile, though the concern in her eyes overrules it. “What about your life and family?”
“I remember my life and my mom. My coworkers. My friends. Just not the explosion.”
Her eyes widen. “There was an explosion?” Did she not know? I’d think it would have traveled the grapevine of the Cove and back again.
“That’s what knocked me from the ladder.” Yelling on the TV draws my attention to a sportscaster going off about college football. “Fighting fires can be dangerous.” Though I shouldn’t smirk, joking keeps my injuries from getting into my head deeper than they already have.
“Do you know what caused the explosion?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t know if they know yet. If they do, I’m out of the loop.”
She leans against the bed. Curiosity has her braving any boundaries she was worried about earlier. “Do you remember the town and the past, like high school or middle school? And before that?”
“Homegrown in Mountain Laurel Cove. I’m twenty-six.
Studied architecture in college but decided to go to fireman’s academy after graduation.
If we’re time traveling back further than that, I played football in high school and was crowned prom king.
” I cock a brow, trying to keep the grin off my face this time.
“I should feel more shame than I do over that.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed you were a quarterback.” She smirks this time, making me laugh.
“The night nurse brought jokes.”
“The nurse,” she whispers as if for her own ears. Odd, but I’m more curious about how she knew I played quarterback when I only said football.
“Do you live in the Cove or drive in for work?”
She crinkles her brow before seemingly checking the score of the game flashed on the screen.
Her gaze slowly glides back to me. All seriousness has left the room, leaving us with a comfort settling between us, and easing her pretty features back into place.
“I live here.” Her shoulders straighten, and she adjusts the tray in front of me. “You should eat and get some rest.”
“All I do is rest. I find you much more interesting.”
“Interesting is an interesting word choice.” She turns to the monitor and taps something on the keyboard.
“Why?”
“No reason.” She flashes another grin in my direction before heading for the door. “Give me a call if you need anything.”
“Anything at all?”
She laughs, looking back over her shoulder. “It’s a hospital, not a hotel. I’m a nurse, not room service, so keep it within this realm if you can manage, Mr. Culver.”
“Gotcha. Hey, Nurse?” Before she has a chance to get away again, I say, “You can call me Brandon. What should I call you?”
I’m knocked sideways by the prettiest smile I ever did see when she replies, “Autumn.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Autumn.”
She nods before letting the door close between us. I pop another cracker in my mouth and continue staring, hopeful she’ll return on her own accord since willing it didn’t work last time.
Nurse Autumn.
I could get used to her care.
Suddenly, being laid up for a few days isn’t so bad, not when I have company like her hanging around.
Lying back, I stare at the TV, but like any other time I’ve been given too much room to think, my mind starts spinning.
From the nurse to the night of the fire, images begin to blur as I eat another cracker stack.
And before I have a chance to get invested in the highlight reel, my eyes grow heavy.
Exhaustion commands I give in sooner rather than later.
Leaning my head back, I don’t have the energy or strength to fight this battle, so I close my eyes, letting darkness win another round.