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She pushed up in the hospital bed and sat up. There was a vase of pink roses that sat on a table near the window. She’d…she’d been driving. She’d been angry at her ex for texting her and hadn’t been able to sleep, and she’d taken a drive. And then on a bridge, her tire had blown out and she’d lost control. She’d hit a red truck on the back end and went off the side of the road, and…and…
Her head ached, and her arm was burning something fierce. She winced at the light above, closed her eyes, and tried to remember.
There had been a man, and fire. A man had been standing near the tree her car had crashed into, and he’d had his hands out, and he’d been pulling the fire from her car wreck into himself. Right?
She frowned, eyes closed. She could see the intensity on his face so easily, and the flames that consumed his eyes.
“You had a pretty big knock on your head,” Sasha said from the doorway.
Her sister looked worried, but a forced smile stretched her lips. She was wearing lavender-colored scrubs, which meant she was probably on-shift. Her sister was a nurse here. Timber had been brought to the right hospital. Sasha had probably bullied extra care for her.
“When…how long was I out?”
“Two days,” Sasha said as she took her place in a chair that had been pulled up beside the bed. “Which is wild because you didn’t really have any injuries. We couldn’t figure out the cause for the coma. We did brain scans and everything. Other than a burn on your arm, you are healthy as a horse. We knew you would wake up. We just didn’t know when. I’ve been visiting you when I can.”
Sasha leaned over to Timber’s bed and hugged her up tight. “You worried us.”
“Everyone knows?”
“Of course. I called the family right away.”
Timber stared at the pink roses as she hugged her sister. “Did Mom and Dad send the flowers?” she asked.
Sasha stiffened, and then eased back and sat on the edge of the bed, pity in her eyes. “I don’t know who the flowers are from. They just showed up. Look, Mom and Dad thought about coming to visit you. Really, they did. It’s just busy for them right now and—”
“Sasha, it’s okay. You don’t have to cover for them. I’m not a baby anymore.” She smiled and squeezed her sister’s hand. “As long as you are here, I’m completely good.”
Sasha offered her a sad smile, then stood. “I’m going to have them check you. If everything is okay, they will probably release you sometime today. Just let me know if you need a ride. I can take you to your place after my shift.”
She turned to leave, but hesitated at the door. “You scared me.”
“I’m okay.”
The sadness disappeared from Sasha’s lips and her smile brightened. “Thank God. Who else would listen to all of my boy problems?”
“Your dog?” Timber teased.
“He’s sick of me,” Sasha joked as she disappeared out the door.
Timber looked out the window. Okay, that made sense. She’d had a big knock on the head. The fire-man was probably a trauma response to her crashing. The impact of the car hitting the tree and the volume of her scream pierced her memory, and she winced hard.
It had hurt.
The airbag had deployed, and her leg had felt like it had been snapped in half.
She frowned. She’d been sure her leg was broken. Timber looked down at the sheets that covered her. She moved her right leg, testing it. There was no pain, no stiffness. Okay. Okay! Maybe she had imagined the broken leg? She rotated her legs to the edge of the bed and gripped the mattress as she prepared to put weight on her feet. She stood easily enough, if not a little clumsily, which was normal for her.
There was no pain. Her brain at war with itself, she pulled up her hospital gown to expose her legs, but there wasn’t even a scratch. What the hell?
She turned her legs this way and that, searching for even a bruise, but they just looked normal.
Another flashback of the impact of her car flashed through her mind and made her wince hard, close her eyes, and wait for the vision to pass.
When she opened her eyes again, she was even more determined to figure out what had happened. Her phone was sitting on a bedside table, just out of reach with the cord from the heart-rate monitor, so she plucked the monitor off her finger and ignored the beeping machine as she stretched forward, lost her balance a little, but caught herself. She grabbed her phone and opened up the camera function to check her face. Her reflection looked normal. No broken nose, no cuts fromthe glass, but she remembered—there had been blood dripping down her face. She’d felt the warm liquid oozing from the painful cuts on her cheeks, and her nose had been pounding with pain.
But looking in the camera now, it was as if none of that happened. Was she going crazy?
She remembered the man again. The fire siphoning into his body. The way his face had been strained with some effort she didn’t understand, and he was frozen mid-scream like he was in pain. “Are you okay?” She’d asked him that, and he’d looked confused.
