A hospital bed.
I’m not back at the ranch.
Rory and my grandparents aren’t here.
And she’s not an angel.
Aspen—the flight nurse who pulled me off the mountain.
It’s hard to believe she’s real when she only shows up during my moment of need and disappears just as quickly.
But the palm squeezing my leg is real, just like the faint scent of mint she carries.
It was all that was left of her after her visit the other night.
Waking up to Becky poking and prodding me didn’t hold the same appeal.
“You were having a nightmare,” she says.
“What are you doing here?” The words scrape my throat.
I sound like a prick.
She didn’t do anything wrong, and I know that. If anything, I’m annoyed with myself.
“I heard you call out as I was passing by,” she says carefully. “You were thrashing. I didn’t want you to rip out your IV.”
That explains the hospital gown twisted around my waist.
Aspen’s gaze falls away, and the loss of it makes me feel unsteady, which can’t be good.
I’m still sorting through how I feel about that when I follow her gaze and find the dressing on my shoulder peeling back.
Fuck.
The adrenaline crash slams into me, bringing the sharp stab of pain with it.
I shift but can’t find a comfortable position.
“May I?”
I nod, my molars clamped tight.
Her hands are cool on my good shoulder as she adjusts the pillow behind me. “Let’s get you comfortable first.”
“Better,” I grit out.
“Let me glove up.”
She stops fussing and steps away, giving me time to get my racing pulse under control. I pull in slow breaths through my nose, watching her move.
Strands of dark hair slip from her braid, and the light from the hallway halos her at the sink. If it weren’t for the harsh fluorescents, she’d look almost unreal. It’s too easy to get caught up watching her.
She flits around my room like she belongs here. Like I don’t rattle her.
Nothing seems to.
I shut that thought down.
