Page 7 of Heavy Crown

He appears over me, a mess of midnight hair, and eyes so dark they’re almost coal black. His white shirt is covered in blood, and he’s pressing a red button next to my other hand. I follow his movements in confusion.

Where am I? A hospital? Who is he?

Then I remember the bang, and I choke out a noise of distress. “Someone hit me.”

“Someone did, yeah.” He glances down at me, and his brow is furrowed.

“Why do you look so familiar?” I scan his features. There’s a tenderness in his expression I can’t reconcile, as though we’re acquainted with each other. Not that I’m opposed to a gorgeous man looking at me like that. But have we met before? It feels like I know him.

“I’ve been asking myself the same question.” He grimaces, and then he takes in my appearance again for a beat. “You’ve got such lovely green eyes. Like jade.” His voice is gruff and slightly mystified.

“Same as my mother.” I can’t tear my gaze from his. The intimacy is as if someone tore him out of my dreams and planted him at my side. The reality of what’s crossed my mind sinks in.

What a stupid thought. I must have damaged my brain.

A deep throbbing emerges from the dull ache behind my forehead. I touch my temple with my free hand, and there’s a bandage covering it.

“Concussion,” he says.

Then I realize he’s the reason my other hand is so warm. He’s holding my hand. When I glance down at our linked fingers, he lets me go and steps back from the bed just as a nurse knocks on the doorframe.

“You’re awake,” she says with a smile. She gives the man beside me a furtive glance and a wide berth. “How are you feeling?” She leans against the railing and checks the connections to the machines beeping away around me.

Attractive mystery man has stepped into the shadows of the room as though to conceal himself. Obviously the nurse realizes he’s here. So strange.

“My head hurts,” I admit. My throat is dry, too, but I didn’t notice when I was talking before.

“Nasty concussion,” the nurse confirms. “The doctor will be in shortly to speak to you.”

My skull throbs, and I turn to the guy standing at the side of the bed, where the light isn’t as strong. “Are you the one who hit me? You haven’t said who you are.”

Just then the doctor breezes in the open door. “Aurora Wilson. Happy birthday. You’ve had quite a lucky escape tonight. Must have had your guardian angel sitting on your shoulder.”

“Someone hit me.” The stretching ache in my head is making it hard to concentrate. “Did he hit me?” I point to the man beside the bed.

The doctor’s eyes widen, and something that sounds like a strangled chuckle escapes. “No, he’s the one who pulled you from the car before it fell into the ocean.”

Now it’s my turn for wide eyes. My brain thumps along to the increased rate of my heart. “You saved me?” I try to turn toward him and wince.

“Can she have more painkillers? She’s clearly in pain.”

Oh my God. Drugs. It’s like he read my mind. I press my fingers into my temple. “Is there something to make this better?”

“I’ll get the nurse to bring some in, and we’ll send you home with a prescription.”

“Home?” My stomach rolls when I remember what led me to West Shore Road tonight.

“You’ve got a concussion, whiplash, and a lot of bruising. You’re likely to be very sore for a few days. You’ll need to be monitored closely.”

Monitored closely? His words wash over me, but I can’t make my mind work properly.

The doctor rips off a scribbled note from his pad and hands it to the man beside me. “I understand you’re going to get her home and make sure there’s someone to watch over her tonight?”

“That’s correct,” he says.

“My purse.” I scan the room. “I need my purse.”

“It’s at the bottom of the ocean by now,” mystery man says.