Emery presses a button on the machine, and the platform shifts so that I’m sitting up. Blood rushes down my neck into my chest, hot and liquid. I can see the rest of the room now. It isn’t a hospital, but I was right. It feels like one. There’s an IV cart. A counter with medical supplies.
But, also, another counter with machines and flasks and racks of tubes and syringes. Like in a laboratory.
“Are you in pain?” Emery asks, and I pull my attention away from my surroundings and back to her face.
Her eyes are mesmerizing, yes, but I see now that she also has beautiful skin: creamy and unmarred, with a dusting of freckles.
I shift my position, adjusting the blanket over my lap, and suck in a breath. “Aside from feeling like I was hit by a car and my right leg is on fire… yeah, I’m not great. What happened?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Emery asks.
I try to pluck the answer from my head but come up empty, nothing but a black tunnel in my mind.
“Nothing.” I close my eyes, thinking, trying to imagine a house, a car, a pet, alife. “No. Nothing.”
Annie steps forward. “The simple answer is that you feel like you’ve been hit by a car because you were.”
“I was hit by a car?” I’ve never been in an accident before. I’ve never even broken a bone. I don’t know where that certainty comes from; it’s the first thing I’ve felt sure about since I woke up. Is that what I did? Was I sleeping? “Who hit me? Was I in a car, too?”
“We don’t know who the driver was,” Annie says. “They drove off. And no, you weren’t driving. You were crossing the street.”
“They drove off?” I try to imagine doing that to someone. It doesn’t seem possible. “Did they do it on purpose?”
“It didn’t feel targeted,” Emery says quietly. “It was dark, and you were out for a run. They were speeding down the street and probably didn’t see you. Nobody would want to hurt you. You’re everyone’s favorite person.”
“I definitely like you more than I like Emery right now,” Annie says.
But what Emery said doesn’t make any sense. “The police don’t have a suspect?”
Annie looks sardonically over at Emery, and a beat of silence passes between the two women. “The police weren’t notified,” Annie tells me, still looking at Emery.
“I don’t understand,” I say, growing frustrated. “Why aren’t the police involved in a hit-and-run? Who found me, then? And I swear to God, if you two have one more silent conversation I’m going to pull these monitors off and get the fuck out of here.”
Not that I would have any clue where to go.
“I did,” Emery says finally. “I found you.”
My eyes narrow, suspicion sparking in the back of my brain. “Where?”
“I was waiting for you at home—” She shakes her head, swallowing back more tears. “Not at home,byour home. At the end of our street. I saw the accident and ran over, and you’d lost so much blood.” The tears spill over her cheeks, and I frown, my head spinning.
“Ourhome?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What do you mean, ‘our home’?”
“My name is Emery Martín.”
“Martín,” I repeat.
“Yeah,” she says, her smile wobbly. “I’m your wife.”
10EMERY
It would be easy to get lost in the absolute euphoria of having Luca back—as it is, I’m barely restraining myself from leaping on top of him and never letting go—but we aren’t out of the woods yet. The good news, I guess, is that he doesn’t seem immediately horrified to find out that we’re married. Bad news, however, is that there is zero recollection in his eyes. If anything, he’s looking at me like he thinks we might be up to something nefarious.
Which… fair.
I pull up a chair beside him and try to organize my racing thoughts. I was prepared to come clean about my job, but I realize I need to be careful and not completely overwhelm him.Okay, I think.Baby steps.
“What I’m going to tell you is incredibly confidential,” I begin slowly. “Even bringing you here, I’ve broken about fifty company policies—”
