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“Trevor?”
The voice is so soft, I might’ve dreamed it, and then I hear it again.
“Trevor?”
Peeling my eyes open, I swallow and blink up at the nurse beside my bed. “You aren’t Genevieve.”
She points to the name badge on the left side of her chest. “Abby. I’m a student nurse. But if you’d rather have Genevieve, I can send her in,” she whispers.
Genevieve is the charge nurse. She’s also sixty-five, getting ready to retire, and told me I remind her of her son, which is why she sneaks junk food in on a daily basis for me. I’m tempted to tell her to bring Genevieve back, but Abby is a nice change of pace.
She has black hair, piercing gray eyes, and a smile that should make my dick twitch. Should being the operative word, because my dick doesn’t do a damn thing. Traitorous appendage hasn’t shown an inkling of interest toward anyone since it stood tall and proud the night I kissed Claire.
“I know your sister, Adley. We’re in school together,” she says softly while fiddling with the IV pump.
“I’m sorry.”
She laughs and then covers her mouth. “Ooops,” she whispers, her eyes darting to the side of me.
I smile. “Why are you sorry, and why are we whispering?”
She nods, and I follow her gaze. “I didn’t want to wake her up.”
There’s a big blob of someone curled up on one of those horrid hospital chairs next to my bed. Whoever it is has snuggled up in a blanket, and when he or she shifts, I see a streak of wild, red hair.
Is that…Claire?
“How long has she been here?” I whisper, because now I don’t want to wake her up either.
Abby shrugs. “I’m not sure, but you two have been sawing logs for a few hours. She looked cold, so I gave her a blanket.”
“Thank you.”
Abby shrugs. “No need to thank me. She’s been through a lot. It was the least I could do.”
She has been through a lot. More than you know.
Claire lets out a soft snore, and I can’t help but smile. She’s always so put together—dress clothes perfectly pressed, high heels, and her hair fixed in a way that makes me want to pull the little pins out and see how it looks cascading down her back. It’s nice to see her out of her element for a change. Although I could do without the circumstances that brought us here.
“I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Thank you. Would you mind pulling the blinds shut on your way out?” I ask.
Claire needs to get some more rest. She’s going to need it to heal, both physically and mentally.
Being trapped in a fire is exhausting to a person, even if there’s no physical damage. There’s something about being stuck in a burning building, surrounded by flames and smoke, wondering if you’re going to make it out, that does a number on one’s subconscious. Not to mention that Claire had her father’s death in a fire to contemplate during those tense moments, which I’m sure made it a million times worse.
“Sure thing.”
Tugging the blinds shut, Abby walks out and closes the door behind her. I’m grateful no one else is here and I have a few minutes to sit back and watch Claire.
Before the fire, I hadn’t seen her for three weeks. Three weeks of wondering whether Mo had set her up on another date. Three weeks wondering if she was thinking about me half as much as I was thinking about her, and three weeks of doing my damnedest to avoid her because I knew if I saw her I’d cave—I’d beg her to forget everything I said, just for another chance of feeling her soft body against mine.
But if I did that, I’d have to come clean.
Claire shifts around in the seat, drawing her knees to her chest. Her face scrunches up, and she lets out a soft cry, mumbling something I can’t quite understand. She rustles around again, and I reach out, resting my hand on her back. She settles under the weight of my touch, and something inside of m
e roars to life.
