And hearing it stirs something inside me because I know that voice.
I know it well.
I focus every ounce of energy I have on opening my eyes. And when they finally part, the light is so bright it burns.
Instinctively, I squeeze them shut again before trying once more, and this time I manage to keep them open long enough for the blur to slowly recede and the room to begin taking shape around me.
Yes, there is no mistaking it, I’m in a hospital.
A squeeze around my hand brings my attention to it, and I blink down at the tangle of wires attached to my arm, noticing the hand wrapped around mine.
I follow it upward, until amber eyes meet mine.
Hunter.
“Love, can you hear me?”
He’s standing over the bed, looking down at me. His expression is full of worry and a softness I can’t explain.
That can’t be right. Hunter is practically allergic to emotions, and the last time he saw me...
I swallow and instantly regret it.
“Water,” I croak.
Or at least I try to.
He understands anyway.
Without taking his eyes off me, he adjusts the bed with a remote, raising me into a more upright position before bringing a straw to my lips.
I drink greedily.
He sets the glass down and backs towards the door without taking his eyes off me for even a second.
“I need a doctor.”
The room fills with doctors and nurses within minutes.
They check the monitors, shine lights into my eyes, ask me questions while muttering things to one another that I don’t quite catch.
Eventually, they seem satisfied.
After assuring me that everything looks good and that I’m recovering as expected, they leave.
Leaving me alone with him.
Hunter.
“What happened?” I ask.
My eyes find his, but he doesn’t answer, he just stares at me.
“Hunter,” I say again, my voice small.
He clears his throat.
“Are you in any pain?”
