He sat on the bed, then set his fingers to the girl’s wrist. Her pulse fluttered too fast. Which could mean anything or nothing at all.
Now what? He had no stethoscope, no blood pressure cuff, no thermometer. He was out of options.
“You have any idea what happened?” he asked.
“She saw something that upset her.”
In the hall there’d been the two women and himself. Sebastian might seem big and tough and scary, but he’d never had anyone faint at the sight of him before.
Mary shook the half-empty bottle in her hand. “I dumped it on the floor.”
“Accidents happen.”
“Not an accident. I wanted her to stare into the water, to see.”
“Microbes?”
Mary wouldn’t be the first psychiatric patient he’d met who was a germaphobe. She was probably nearer the hundredth.
Mary cast him a disgusted glance. “The future.”
“You think Willow can see the future in the water?”
“I know she can.”
“And does Willow believe this, too?”
“She’s never said so.”
“Can’t imagine why.” Sebastian returned his gaze to Willow’s beautiful, still face. What was it about her that called to him? His ridiculous need to save everyone, which had gotten worse after he’d been unable to save his sister?
“Why do you think Willow can see the future?” Sebastian asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
As the explanation probably involved headache-inducing kooky talk, not really. Sebastian was saved from answering when Willow began to come around.
Her eyes opened. He was struck again by how very blue they were. Sebastian had never seen eyes the shade of a tropical ocean. He’d never seen an ocean—tropical or otherwise—although he’d always wanted to. It was on his to-do list.
Willow smiled as if she knew him, as if she’d known him a long time, and just as she had before, she reached out to touch his face. He should have gotten to his feet. He should not have let her touch him, but he was captivated by the expression in her eyes. Her palm cupped his cheek, and his heart stuttered.
“You’re here.”
Her voice made him shiver. Or maybe it was just her words, which also indicated that she thought she knew him. And that couldn’t be true no matter how much he might want it to be.
“Miss Black, I’m not—”
Her fingers flexed, her nails scratched against his three-day beard. “You are. I’m touching you. You’re real.”
“You have difficulty understanding what’s real and what isn’t?”
Her smile deepened. “Never.”
Sebastian lifted his eyebrows, and she laughed. This time his stomach twisted, and lower, in a place that had no business doing so anywhere near a patient, he leaped.
He stood so fast he bumped into Mary and had to grab her before she landed on her ass. “Sorry.”
She gave him a look like his mother always used to whenever he’d thought something he shouldn’t. Mothers were like that. Then she took his place on the bed next to Willow.
“Run along, Doc. She’ll be fine now.”
“Doc?” Willow repeated.
“Sebastian Frasier,” he said. “I’m replacing Dr. Eversleigh.”
“Shiny new paper pusher,” Mary muttered.
“Among other things.” In a small place like this, the administrator also treated patients, just not as many as the rest of the doctors. It was one of the reasons he’d accepted this position over the others he’d been offered. Sebastian liked being a practicing psychiatrist. He also liked being the boss.
His superior, Dr. Janet Tronsted, was in charge of state health services. When she’d appointed him the administrator of this facility, she’d said, “You’re in charge. Unless there’s a problem, you won’t be seeing me.” Then she’d peered at him over the top of her vintage cat-eye reading glasses. “You do not want to see me.”
As this Janet reminded him of another Janet—Janet Reno—same haircut, same biceps, same build—he’d had to agree. Her reputation preceded her. She was hands-off as long as you did your job. If you didn’t, her hands would be around your throat—figuratively, he hoped—and they’d definitely be all over your record. You’d be lucky to get another job anywhere. Ever.
Someone called his name in the hall. “Should I send a nurse to check you out?”
“No.” Willow sat up. She wasn’t as pale. Her hands didn’t shake. “I’m embarrassed more than anything. I—uh—didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Mary thought you might have had a vision.”
“No,” Willow repeated, scowling at Mary, who scowled right back.
Did that mean she hadn’t had one now or that she never had?
Sebastian’s name was called again—louder, closer. Not the time to press the issue. Really not his issue but her doctor’s. He made a mental note to find out who that was and have a chat.
“It’s nearly lunchtime,” he said. “You should eat.”
“I will.”
As he had no more reason to stay beyond a strange desire to keep staring at her, Sebastian left. He headed back the way he’d come, just as the nurse who’d been calling for him barreled around a corner and bounced off his chest.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR