Not now.
Maybe not ever.
CHAPTER TWO
Zane
Slamming my eyes shut, I bury my fists into the sockets and let out a silent scream. That fucker must have messed me up worse than I thought, because I am seeing things. No, not just seeing things—I’m goddamn delusional.
With a quiet groan, I remove my hands and open my eyes one at a time, slowly taking in the sterile room, and… “Fuck me.” She’s standing in front of me. Blair fucking Stevens is here. And she’s shooting me well-deserved daggers.
I try to sit up but the cut on my side pulls, and I bite back a wince. Though it’s significantly easier to focus on that than the hollow pit forming in my stomach. “Fuck me,” I repeat, unable to form any other words as my chest burns.
“Nope.” Blair pops thep, her hand on her hip, as she stares me down. “You missed your chance years ago.”
I almost question what she means until her eyes widen and she covers her perfect little pout with her hand.Oh, right…thefucking mepart.“Forget I said that.” She shakes her head almost violently, causing her hair to loosen and a thick curl tofall to her cheek. “I’m glad to see you’re okay.” She tucks the stray strand behind her ear and I follow the movement. “I’ll just check your vitals and be on my way.”
She fusses with the monitors behind me before shoving the claw on my finger and securing the blood pressure torture trap around my bicep. I can handle a lot of pain, but fuck, those things cause me grief.
Grief. Jesus. Not the best word to think about right now.
I flinch as the machine tightens around my muscle, and when Blair notices, she frowns. “What’s going on there?”
“You know…” I trail off as I shrug. “I hate hospitals.” The word alone brings up memories I buried deep, and being here now is excruciating. Not to mention, it’s as if they want you to suffer, with the stark white walls and bleak interior. It’s what nightmares are made of. Particularly mine.
“So, nothing has changed,” Blair muses and the smallest smile tugs at her lips, until I selfishly wipe it clean off her face.
“Everythinghas changed.” She knows that as well as I do.
Blair nods, as if in response to my inner thoughts, and a melancholy expression darkens her beautiful features.
“Okay. Well, if you don’t need anything…” She trails off, glancing behind her. “I’m going to continue my rounds.”
“Thanks. I’m good.”
Walking backward, she collides with the edge of the open door, snapping herself out of the daze she’s been under.
Then she’s gone.
As though I imagined the whole damn thing.
And fuck, maybe I did. I am in the hospital after all. And Blair’s not a nurse. She wanted to be a writer. It’s all she ever talked about. She was going to travel the world, setting her books in whatever exotic location she found herself in.
That can’t be her.
Maybe I’m still sleeping. Or God, am I in a coma?
Confused as ever, I stare at the door long after Blair—or not Blair—has gone, a million unwanted thoughts running through my head. Blair fucking Stevens.
I knew coming back here was going to be hard, but it’s so much worse than I ever could have imagined. There’s a reason I haven’t been home for years.
I want out.
I’m more convinced than ever that I conjured Blair, when for the next few hours, I have a different nurse taking care of me.
And this one has a strange, knowing smile on her face. As though the machines are telling her I’m crazy. That I’m seeing images of the girl I left behind. The girl I never got over.
Countless memories assault my mind, and I’m almost at my breaking point when the doctor stops by. I expect him to notice my impending madness, so when he clears me for discharge, it catches me off guard. And I almost beg him to let me stay.
