A hospital room?
Her head pounded fiercely, and she couldn't remember what happened.
Across the room, the window blinds were open. It was pitch black outside.
Several machines hummed and beeped nearby, but she didn't know what that meant. She tried to move. Everything hurt. She strained her memory, pushing past the pulsing headache. She had to remember what happened.
And then, it came back to her.
Toby.
The ice storm.
The accident.
And blinding pain in her head and her side.
Had he shot her? She couldn't be sure. The wreck was a blur of images and noise.
An IV was taped to her wrist, which lay on top of the blankets. Someone was holding her hand.
Cord.
He was here.
She couldn't hold back tears. One slipped down her cheek.
"Hey there," he whispered. He used the knuckle of the hand that wasn't holding hers to wipe away her tear. "Are you in pain? I can page the nurse."
She hurt all over, but it was the fact that he was here that had brought her tears. How long had it been since the accident? She didn’t know. And then she didn’t care. Before the crash, she’d thought she might never see him again.
She tried to answer, but her throat was sore and scratchy. She blinked, or maybe she closed her eyes. Minutes later, a nurse bustled in and forced her fully awake, shining a flashlight in her eyes, pressing a thermometer against her forehead, taking her blood pressure, apologizing when getting the blood pressure cuff on made Molly shift. Her ribs pulled, and pain ripped through her.
"Can she have some water?" Cord asked.
"That should be fine," the nurse replied.
Another minute of clicking on her computer near Molly's bedside, and then the woman disappeared.
Cord pulled a chair close, clasping her hand again on the edge of the bed. He couldn't seem to look at anything other than her, which made Molly feel self-conscious.
He looked rough. Lines fanned around his eyes, stubble covered his chin and jaw, his eyes were haunted.
She remembered thinking, during the long, frightening hours in the truck that Cord was never going to forgive himself if something happened to her. And it had. Was he okay?
She opened her mouth to ask, but her throat was still so dry that a cough barked out. That slicing pain went through her ribs again and brought tears.
Cord grabbed the water cup from her bedside table, gently tilting the straw to her lips. He soothed her with a gentle touch to the apple of her cheek.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
"Hush." He set the cup down and took her hand again. As if he couldn't keep himself from touching her. "None of this is your fault."
If only that were true.
"If I hadn't tried to go to the hardware store…"
He frowned fiercely at her. "You should be able to go wherever you want, honey. And now you can."
