Hospital.
I’m in a hospital.
A wave of nausea rolls through me as the memories come in jagged, broken flashes.
The truck.The scream.The impact.
I gasp, eyes flying open.
Everything is too bright.Too white.Too loud.A blurry figure leans over me.A nurse, I think.Her voice is gentle, soothing.
“Hey, honey.You’re awake.That’s good.You’re safe.”
Safe.The word seems foreign.
My throat feels raw when I try to speak.“Wh… what happened?”
“You were in a car accident,” she says, adjusting my IV.“You’ve been unconscious for several hours.”
Her tone is calm, careful.
Too careful.
Fear curls in my belly.
“I—” My voice cracks.“I need to call someone.”Things feel confusing.Like I should know something and this should make sense, but nothing feels right.
She hesitates.“Your emergency contact was already notified.”
My stomach sinks.“Who?”I whisper.
Before she can answer, footsteps echo in the hallway.Heavy.Familiar.
But I don’t know why they’re familiar.The door bursts open, and a man fills the doorway — tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, patched cut, eyes like a storm barely held in check.
He looks like someone carved him out of every bad decision I’ve ever been tempted to make.
He looks dangerous and devastated.
When his eyes land on me, something in his expression breaks wide open.
But I don’t recognize him.
He strides toward me, chest heaving, jaw tight, like he’s holding himself together with pure force of will.“Kelly,” he rasps, voice rough and thick with something I can’t name.
My breath stutters.His presence is overwhelming, yet familiar in a way that’s frightening.
The nurse steps between us instinctively.“Sir, I need you to stay calm.”
He barely hears her.
His eyes stay locked on mine.
I search my memory, my whole life, for a place to put him.
A name.A moment.Anything.There’s nothing.
My voice is barely a whisper.“Do,” I pause not wanting to upset him, “do I know you?”
