Him.
I almost laughed as he gave my cheek a pat, then turned and walked off without waiting for me to say another word. Not that I would have. This felt like a giant cosmic joke. I flopped back against my pillow and covered my face with my good hand, trying not to dissolve into an endless scream.
Why was I in this bed and that motherfucker was strolling away? He got to go home, turn off his feelings, dick down his walking glitter-mesh fuck toy, and allow himself to forget me. He’d think of me sometimes—randomly. He’d see the disabledsection of the concert hall—men with canes and wheelchairs—and he’d wonder, for a single moment, how I was doing.
And then he’d forget again, because he wouldn’t really care. Not the way someone else might.
That was who Raleigh was. That was the man I had wasted so much time on.
“That was the boyfriend?” Perlah said, walking back into the room. “Honey, you know you can do better, right?”
I burst into laughter, which quickly turned into tears. Fuck, I hated crying over that piece of shit. In the weeks between me leaving him on the road and the accident, I’d only cried over the time wasted on him. I didn’t miss him. I no longer wanted him.
So why did I feel like this?
“Oh, honey.” She walked up and brushed her hand through my hair. It reminded me a little of the guy from the ambulance, but not comforting in the same way. “Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know.”
Swiping my hand over my face, I shook my head. My lungs ached, and every fiber of my being wanted to get up out of this fucking bed. But I wasn’t allowed yet. My spine was still healing, and I wasn’t going to take any risks in making all of this worse, killing my chance of making any of it better.
“He’s my ex,” I finally told her. “We worked together before it ended.”
“At an office?”
It was kind of nice she had no idea who I was. “We have—wehad—a band.”
“Oh. A nice band?”
I shrugged and tried to hide my smile. I really liked her. “It was nice at first, but it got kind of toxic over the years, and I was ready to move on.”
“What instrument did you play? No, wait, don’t tell me.” She lifted my hand and examined my fingers. “Guitar?” I nodded, and she grinned. “I always get it right. And singer too, yes? You have such a nice voice. Like…one of those piano singers who smoke too many cigarettes. Though you really shouldn’t be smoking.”
I huffed a tiny laugh. “I don’t smoke. My manager would kill me.” Fuck, my manager. Was Christopher anything to me now? I hadn’t spoken to him since I left, but…god. This was going to get complicated. There were probably a dozen texts and emails waiting for me on my phone, but my phone had been smashed in the accident, and Tollin was waiting on a new one to get here.
So much had been lost, but it was hard to mourn any of it.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding out how much my body was willing to heal. And if I was going to dig around in my past, it was going to be for the angel who saved me. The one who’d held me and kept me not only from falling to pieces, but from literally giving up my ghost.
There had to be a way to solve that mystery. He was an EMT, so clearly, he came to the hospitals in the city, right?
“Perlah?”
She was checking my IV, but she hummed as she looked up at my face.
“Is there a way to find out who brought me in the night of my accident?” I hadn’t been brave enough to ask before now, but fuck it. After seeing Raleigh, I needed something to hold on to.
She frowned. “It was an ambulance, honey.”
“No, I—I know that. I meant the specific EMT.”
“Oh. I don’t have that kind of information. I wasn’t on shift when you were brought in, and that was weeks ago.”
“There must be some kind of log, or—” I stopped when she pulled a face. “Right. That’s probably not appropriate, is it?” Irubbed at my eyes, feeling defeated. “I just want him to know that what he did saved my life.”
“The EMTs always know that you’re grateful for their help.” She gave my thigh a pat.
And I was sure that was true. Really. But the way I felt was more than that. He—the nameless brown-eyed man with the constellation of freckles, who loved a tiny island and ancient history—was more than a stranger. I could remember the timber of his voice, and I remembered there was a sadness to him that I’d wanted to soothe, but I could barely speak then.
