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She pursed her lips. “Yes.”
“Student president.”
She nodded but didn’t look up. “That too.”
“You ran the Helping Hand program.”
She set the tablet down onto the table beside the bed, dislike still in her eyes. “I did.” She shrugged. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
Okay. This was encouraging. “I signed up to help out with the food drive.”
“You signed up to get into Lana Larson’s pants.”
“True.” A slow smile curved his mouth as the memories returned. “But I didn’t have a chance, now did I? Not with you ordering me around like a drill sergeant. Christ, I barely had time to scratch my—”
“Let’s not do this.” Her mouth was firm, those green eyes of hers hard.
“Do what?” He slowly slid from the bed and stood, forcing Regan to look up at him.
“This.” She gestured wildly. “Whatever it is. I’m not interested in walking down memory lane with you.” She took a step back. “Not in the least.”
There was silence for a few moments as the two of them stared at each other. And curiously, Wyatt felt something stir inside him. Something wicked. His eyes fell to her mouth. To the generous curve of that sexy-as-hell bottom lip. To the pink tongue he could just see.
Suddenly, he was thinking things he had no right to think. Mainly, how would she taste if he dipped his head and kissed her?
“Regan,” he said slowly. “Let’s grab a coffee or something so I can apologize properly for being such an asshole on prom night.”
“Coffee?” She looked surprised as hell, and that was a good thing. Meant he’d knocked her off ba
lance.
“Yeah. Coffee.”
“You actually think coffee will make things okay?”
He searched her face, saw the confusion, and he got it. She hated him and had every right to. But still, if he could make things right, then he could leave Crystal Lake without a guilty conscience. Maybe that was selfish of him, but at the moment, he was going with it.
Just then, the curtain was yanked back, and Daisy Miller, the pretty EMT who’d brought him into the emergency room, appeared. Her blonde hair was no longer slicked back into a bun but hung loose, and her wide blue eyes smiled up at him. Uniform gone, she looked at him expectantly.
“You ready?” she asked.
“Um…” Maybe he was concussed, because in that moment, Wyatt had no idea what Daisy was talking about.
“You’re clear to go.” Regan picked up the tablet from the table and took a step back. “Cognitive tests were normal, and your bloodwork is good.”
“Regan.” He sure as hell didn’t want to leave things like this.
But he was dismissed. She nodded to Daisy and, without another word, stepped past them. Wyatt watched Regan Thorne leave the emergency room, his eyes moving over her as she pushed her way through the double doors.
The Hello Kittys attached to her running shoes lit up when she walked. They were the last things he saw. It was that one image he’d think about many times over the next few months, because, as it turned out, life was about to throw him a curveball he hadn’t seen coming.
A curveball that would give Wyatt Blackwell lots of time to think.
Chapter 2
Eight weeks later…
Winter in Michigan meant one thing—snow, and lots of it. This particular January was no different from most Regan remembered, and she shook off a bunch of the fluffy white stuff as she slammed the door behind her and tossed thick pink mittens and a bunch of mail onto the hall table. It was Friday, just past seven, and the only thing on her mind was a glass of red wine and maybe a few episodes of The Gilmore Girls.
