I go to snatch the jacket I normally wear from the hook in the hallway and pause. I’ve fallen in love with the jacket. The subtle smell of Hunter in the leather always comforts me but I’m not sure it will do that now. Sucking in a short breath, I fight to remain emotionless and slip it on. The warmth and scent surrounds me like a shroud and when I look at Hunter, I find him watching me in that way that makes me toes curl. I remember the first time I wore this jacket. Is he remembering the same?
It’s weird because we really barely knew each other then and he thought I was a criminal but he still looked at me like I was his world at that moment.
I shrug off the thought and stalk past him to the back door.
He wheels the bike out, hands me a helmet and gestures with his head. “You getting on then?”
I shake my head to myself. I know why he’s chosen the Harley today. I’ll end up pressed against him and he’ll be hoping it weakens me. I snort. Too late. I’m already pathetic around him. It doesn’t stop the painful hurt from swirling through me though. He worked for my abuser. The man who effectively ruined my life. How am I meant to get past that? Even if I… feel for Hunter, won’t it always be tainted?
I climb on, try to keep and gap between us and force my thoughts to drift when we set off. Being on the bike works through my muscles and the powerful engine between my legs eases my tension. Before long, I’m flush against Hunter and enjoying the moment. Guess I’m hopeless when it comes to Hunter on a motorbike.
We pick up speed and round a corner, barely slowing down. I’m used to Hunter driving fast but this isn’t like him. I grip him tight as we head for the next street corner and he still doesn’t slow down. People, cars and traffic lights seem blurry when we turn too hard and the world tilts. It happens quickly. I can barely comprehend what’s happening.
The ground rushes up to meet me. Searing pain burns through my arm as it hits. My head rattles and I see gravel and red buses. When I stop rolling, I can’t move. Every part of me aches and I struggle to draw in breath and figure out what just happened. I roll my head to one side and through the cracked visor, I can just make out Hunter sprawled across the pavement. Lifeless.
Chapter Eight
Jess
Bleeping. The smell of chemicals. An ache in my head. Panic welling in my chest. I try to force open my eyes but someone seems to have glued them shut. Crisp cotton encases me, holds me down. It rustles and I hear voices—muffled, concerned voices.
Light invades my eyes as I finally drag them open and it hurts. I close my eyes and try again. A face comes into view, her features distorted.
“Who…?” My voice is gravelly.
Gravel. It stings. I remember it now. The bike, the road coming up to meet me.
Hunter.
I sit and my head swims. I squint at the woman—a nurse I realize—and reel my gaze around. I’m in a hospital bed, a printed blanket and white sheet tucked in so tightly it’s pinning me down. On the side table, a jug of water awaits. I register cold fingers against my wrist.
“Who are you?” I try again.
The dark-haired, slightly curvy nurse smiles. “I’m Sandra. You’re at Queen Elizabeth’s hospital. Just relax. You’ve been in an accident but you’re okay. We spoke when you first came in.”
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s not surprising. You did hit your head.”
“In the bike accident.”
“That’s what they told me, yes.”
“Am I… have I done some damage?” I feel so sluggish. I can’t get my thoughts straight. Maybe I’m brain-damaged.
“No, you may be mildly concussed but the fact that you were awake after the accident is a good sign. You were communicating quite well.” Sandra releases my wrist and jots something down on a clipboard before dropping it into something at the end of my bed. “We’ll get someone to come and take a look at you in a moment. Do you need something for your head?”
“I—yes please.” The pain seems to increase when she reminds me of it. Sandra turns and that fear rumbles inside me as fractured images come back. “Wait! Where’s Hunter?”
“The man you came in with?”
“Yes. Is-is he alive?”
“Yes, he’s alive. He didn’t wake up so they’re taking him down for a CT scan.” She comes back to my side and puts a hand to my arm as I struggle to loosen the blankest. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Just rest until we can get a doctor to look at you.”
“No.” I push back the bedding. “No, I need to see him.”
“Jess—”
“Please! I need to see him.” I finally free my legs from the bed and swing them over the edge. Fear makes me tremble. What if he dies? What is he’s so badly injured he’ll never recover? What if he’s forgotten me? Everything else seems so trivial now. The stab of betrayal has given way to the terror that I might never be able to tell him… tell him what?
That I love him?
Do I?
Shit. I get to my feet and stumble back onto the bed as my head spins. I’m wearing an open backed dressing gown and cold air swirls around my back. I probably just flashed half the patients on the ward. Sandra steps forward and kindly helps me put on a thin gown.
“Let me just get a doctor to check you over and then I’ll have a porter take you down, okay?”