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I smoothed my apron and held out my hand, “I’m Brenna O’Brian.”

“Oakland, is that what you called him?” Daisy’s eyes tightened slightly.

I smiled, unable to conceal my pride even in the most tattered of states.

“He’s a doll. If you two need anything, my salon is on Main Street. I’m there Monday through Saturday.”

“I appreciate that.” Her unexpected gesture of friendship gave me just enough pause to ask, “What is the name? Of your shop I mean?”

“Daisy’s Mane Attraction,” she gave my hand a squeeze, “It’s gonna be alright. You two are going to be just fine. We’re a small town, but we look out for each other.”

My eyes misted, and I lowered my head to compose myself.

“Goodnight, Brenna.” Daisy bid, the gentle sound of the bells announcing her departure.

Chapter Seven

Hit and Run

C.C.

The beeping started again, stirring me from a deep slumber. It wasn’t the sound that had me racing to reach the surface of consciousness, it was the need to confront Patrick’s ghost.

“Mr. Henshaw.” A nervous, youthful laugh sounded from beside me. Her head was turned, a long sliver of light-blonde hair dangling between us where it had escaped her neat, but simple, bun. Her hands were locked on my shoulders. “Hey, it’s alright. Calm down, okay?”

I barely registered her words, my hands scrabbling against her weak restraint as I searched for Patrick. My mind now fully alert, I knew there was no such thing as ghosts.

“Ginger,” The nurse panicked.

“Where is Patrick?” I asked only to become irritated with myself.

If I began asking for dead men, they’d go increase my medicine and start to call me delusional again.

The frantic one began to shush me, while an older woman who was moving toward us like a bull suddenly joined her efforts.

“Mr. Henshaw, take a few breaths for me. You might recall being in your vehicle.”

“Someone fuckin’ hit me,” I recalled, a hint of outrage settling over me. “Who was it?”

Ginger shook her head, “I’m not sure, that would be a question for law enforcement, I’m sure they have their reports.”

“They usually do,” I grumped, earning another nervous giggle from the blonde.

Ginger nudged her and focused on me again, “Mr. Henshaw your vehicle was struck from behind, what I do know is the trauma was described as being a hit and run with rear end impact and air bag deployment. I assume law enforcement would have pursued any suspects, but I do not have any access to that information, beyond what came with you upon arrival. Which is typically only things that pertain to a patient’s injuries.”

Her words made sense, even if I’d tuned her out about hallway through her long-winded monologue.

“Yeah. Fine.” I groaned, carefully sitting up.

The blonde cautiously permitted the movement. I blinked a few times and glanced at her chest.

“Kelsey,” I read off the name badge, “That’s your name?”

“It is, Mr. Henshaw. I apologize for such a rude awakening–”

“Never– No mind all that, darlin’. Be a doll and go on out there to that long desk and jot out my discharge papers. If I was struck in an accident, you ain’t got no cause to involuntarily put a hold on me.” I knew that much from past staycations.

“Long–”