I blink at him for a moment, mentally assessing my body. My headachesand my shoulder feels bruised, but other than that, I think I’m okay.
“She said her head hurts,” my mom says, pulling my attention away from Jack. She opens her mouth to say more, but then her phone rings, echoing loudly in the small room. I try not to grimace at the noise. She pulls it from her pocket, and the sound ricochets, a song from the eighties that I can never remember the name of but know every word to. She winces when she checks the screen, and looks back up at me. “It’s Dad. He’s home with your grandma. I better see if everything is okay.”
Worry spikes through me.
“Do you want me to take it for you?” Wren asks, twin divots forming between her brows. “So you can stay.”
“No, no,” Mom says, waving her off. Her pink nail polish is chipped, and it’s so unlike her. She’s had a standing appointment at Betty Jo’s Nail Salon every two weeks since I was born and she decided she needed to do something to pamper herself and have some alone time. The fact that they look like this now makes me realize she’s been missing appointments, and guilt swallows me.
The phone quits ringing then picks up again. On my arm, the blood pressure monitor begins squeezing. Mom bumps into my bed as she tries to move around Holden in the small room, sending the TV remote clattering to the floor. It’s everything all at once, and my heart rate jumps, pounding too loudly in my aching head.
“Actually,” Jack’s voice cuts through the noise, gaze ricocheting between all of us. “Why don’t you all step out? I need to get some vitals from Stevie anyway.”
Wren’s eyes catch mine. “You good?” she asks, and I nod, the headache at the base of my skull growing more insistent.
Outside, thunder cracks, the storm still raging. Everything is much too loud.
I watch as Wren, Holden, and my mom shuffle from the room, Mom answering the phone as she goes. I can hear my dad’s voice from here, her volume turned all the way up. Silence descends after the door squeaks shut, leaving Jack and I alone, the blood pressure cuff letting out air the only noise in the room. From my spot in the bed, I can see the red numbers flash on the screen, signaling that my blood pressure is in a dangerous range.
His lips quirk in a grin, one side lifting higher than the other. “You looked a little overwhelmed,” he says, moving closer. “Thought you could use some quiet.”
“They mean well,” I tell him, as he sidles up next to my bed and checks the computer beside it.
“Oh, I’m sure they do,” he says, looking sincere. “Doesn’t mean it’s not a little overwhelming, especially after the hit you took.”
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 andslender, 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, leadsinking 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 sotiredthat 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.
