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“Copy that, ma’am.”
“Put the weapon down.”
The pole clanked to the floor and the sound jarred him from whatever place his mind had gone. He blinked, blinked again, then focused on her. “What ...? Where ...?”
He was back. And mortified. Her heart went out to him.
She waved the onlookers away, took his arm, and tried to turn him back to the bed. “Careful, James. Watch the ribs.”
His eyes flicked from one person to the next, then met hers, but he finally made his way to the bed and lay back on the mattress, heat climbing into his cheeks, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring.
She turned to the others watching from the door. “Give me a few minutes, please? And shut the door.”
They backed out, leaving her alone with the man on the bed. He wouldn’t look at her, just kept his eyes closed, clenching and unclenching his fists while drawing breaths in through his nose and releasing them through tight lips.
“I have PTSD too,” she said.
He stilled but didn’t open his eyes.
“And I hate sleeping,” she said. “Which is why I agreed to pull a double and am about to drop. I can only sleep without dreaming when I’m so exhausted, my body has no other options.” She paused. “I’m not saying that I understand what you’re going through, but I can make an educated guess that the drugs overrode your plan not to fall into a deep sleep.”
His eyes opened and jerked to hers. “Yeah. Probably.” A slight pause. “I heard what happened to you.”
“Well, considering it was splashed across national news, I’m not surprised.” No one had been more disturbed than her to see her case used in a domestic violence documentary. It had been just a mention. Less than sixty seconds, but it had brought her more attention than she would have ever wanted.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She sighed. “I am too, but it was a year and a half ago and I’ve moved on. I think most everyone else has too.” The man’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. “At least I thought I had.”
“Nightmares?”
“Oh yes. Definitely those.” Another pause. “And seeing my dead fiancé wandering around the hospital today, which makes me wonderif he was the one who ran me off the road almost two weeks ago. That’s a new one.”
James frowned. “Sorry, what?” He seemed to have forgotten his own embarrassment and was now focused on her. Which had been the goal when she’d started the conversation, but now she squirmed, uncomfortable in trying to explain what her mind had possibly conjured. “I don’t know. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“Ran you off the road? On purpose?”
“Sure felt that way, but maybe I’m just...” She shook her head.
“And you think he’s here? At the hospital?”
“Of course not. It has to be someone who looks like him, but it was ... freaky.” She shuddered and cleared her throat. “But never mind that.”
“You guys were engaged?”
“Mm-hmm.” She clutched the necklace, ran the key through her fingers in an absent motion, then pressed the end of it against the pad of her thumb. Realized what she was doing and let it go.
James’ frown deepened, the concern in his eyes laser focused on her. “I can’t picture you staying in an abusive relationship. What happened?”
“That’s the question of the decade.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it, James. To anyone or myself.” A humorless laugh escaped her. “I don’t exactly know what happened, but around the time of my twenty-third birthday, I had made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let my parents’ weird marriage affect me. I was going to meet someone, fall in love, get married, and have a normal life. It became almost an obsession, if I’m honest. Like I had something to prove to someone.”
“To who?”
“I have no idea. Maybe just myself. When I met Adam, I had tunnel vision. My goal was to get the ring on my finger. And I did. But once it was there, all I felt was dread. I hadn’t even met his family at that point, so it was pretty fast.”
“Ouch.”
“No kidding. I kept telling myself this was what I wanted.” She shrugged. “I know some people won’t find it terribly current, but I just wanted to get married and have a family.” She looked away. “A normal family.”
