Only now did Nina finally allow herself to truly look at her face. To study every feature.
She just wished it were happening under any other circumstances.
CHAPTER 15
Nina sat on a hard chair in the emergency waiting area, barely aware of how much time was passing. She flinched at every sound, every passing doctor.
“Are you the one who came in with the patient brought from Pushkin Street?”
She jolted and looked up.
A man in a white coat stood in front of her. The badge on his chest read: Dr. Adam Wright. Nina hurried to her feet, her heart freezing with anticipation.
“How is she?”
The doctor held several papers in his hands. His expression was far too calm for a moment like this.
“She has a concussion. We also had to put several stitches in her scalp.”
Nina clenched her fist.
“She’s going to be okay? Has she regained consciousness?” the questions spilled out of her.
“The impact was strong, but fortunately not critical. We ran a full examination and completed all necessary procedures.”
He studied her closely, clearly noticing how shaken she was.
“She’ll recover,” he assured her.
The pressure on her chest finally eased. She would recover. Everything would be fine. The relief nearly made her dizzy. And then, immediately, fear crept in—what if she hadn’t been there in the middle of the night? She couldn’t even allow herself to think about it. Who had tried to kidnap her? And why?
“Can I see her?” Nina asked before she realized she’d spoken. She should have left. Disappeared from Lynn’s life. Let the girl believe a stranger had saved her. That should have been the end. Their paths should have ended right there. But something held her in place—an aching, soul-tearing longing tangled with frantic worry.
“She hasn’t regained consciousness yet, but you may go into the room.”
Nina almost ran up the stairs.
The hospital room was small and dimly lit. The single window overlooked a dark hospital courtyard.
Lynn lay on the bed beneath an IV, pale as a porcelain doll. A bandage wrapped around her head, light hair scattered across the pillow, her lashes resting against her cheeks. She looked unbearably fragile. So impossibly small.
She stared and felt something ache painfully in her chest. She noticed dried blood tangled in her hair.
She had no right to be here. None at all. But she couldn’t make herself turn around and leave.
A delayed wave of guilt and regret tore into her.
How could she have left her? How could she have abandoned her to this world? What if she had refused Frank’s plan back then? What if she had simply chosen a different path and raised her?
Yes, it would have been hard. Terribly hard. But later… later the pain would have dulled, faded, and she would have simply loved her.
But Lynn didn’t look unhappy. Maybe this really was for the best. She’d probably been raised by a good woman—strong, steady, not broken the way Nina felt.
She was so exhausted she didn’t even notice when her head sank onto the edge of the bed. Didn’t feel how heavy her eyelids became, how her breathing slowed as everything else slowly blurred away.
The last thing she felt before drifting into sleep was warm fingers resting in her palm.
***
