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“They missed a spot.” She wasn’t sure if he could hear her or feel the touch of her fingertips to his cheek before her eyes darted to the clock on the wall.
It was 10 A.M.
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
She was supposed to be at the stables hiding her hungover eyes from the morning sun with oversized sunglasses. She was supposed to be laughing at Emily’s jokes over the drinks they’d shared the night before. She was supposed to be mulling over why she couldn’t seem to care about commitment to Timothy despite the fact they’d been dating for three years. She was supposed to be celebrating his latest promotion.
She wasn’t supposed to be with the man who’d shattered her heart beyond recognition, the one that had taken her years to get over. Sitting here with him, feeling the myriad of emotions in her soul, stirring up feelings she’d long since denied.
She was supposed to be having the time of her life.
Instead, she’d taken a call.
And that call had upended her entire being.
She hadn’t seen Lorenzo since he’d bailed before high school graduation, just after prom.
Just after they had...
“Ms. Carter?”
Katrina turned towards the questioning voice to see a young man standing in the doorway, not quite as disheveled as the others who had been in and out of the hospital room. His last name and title were embroidered on his white coat. Dr. Kincaid, it said. She licked her lips before she spoke.
“Trina. Please call me Trina.”
That’s what Lorenzo knew her by.
That’s who they’d asked for when she’d answered the call.
How had he known her number?
“Hello, Trina, I’m Dr. Kincaid.”
Her eyebrow involuntarily twitched, and she refrained from pointing at his coat and thanking him for stating the obvious. He held his hand out for her to shake, and she reluctantly released Lorenzo’s hand to do so. “Why hasn’t he been cleaned up thoroughly? Why is there dried blood on him?”
She wondered in a moment of panic if Lorenzo would do the same for her, speak up for her if she couldn’t speak for herself.
But she couldn’t know that; he’d taken himself out of the equation that was her life long ago.
“I assure you that he will be. They may have missed a bit after the surgery, but I will let them know.”
She swallowed though her throat tightened.
Surgery.
Dr. Kincaid added words likeinternal bleedingandpossible brain damageto the mix, all the while the word surgery lingered in her mind.
Lorenzo had hated hospitals.
He’d said he’d rather die than undergo surgery.
“We’re not sure the length of time between the accident and when it was discovered. He’d lost a lot of blood.”
Again, the obvious as far as the blood had been stated, but Katrina focused on other words.
Accident.
Length of time.
