Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I pop it in my mouth and chase it down with water. She smiles, bringing that sunshine back into this gloomy room, and adds, “Let me know if you’re still hungry after this. That turkey-and-cheese sandwich in the nutritional refrigerator is looking good. Also, the chicken noodle soup is a solid pick.”
“I will. Thanks.” The thought of eating soup again was not appealing. I eye the way she arranged the crackers, sausage, and cheese, alternating them around the plate. “This is good though.” I’d never tell her otherwise when she put so much effort into it.
She releases a breath as if she needed the reassurance. I make a stack on a cracker and shove it in my mouth. She watches, then loses her smile, and asks, “Do you remember what happened?” In a rush, her eyes drop to the bed between us, and she shakes her head. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable talking about it. I’m just being nosy.” She lowers her hand back, and a flush of color floods her cheeks. “It’s really none of my business.”
“It’s okay.” Ringing returns to my ears as a flash of heat throbs against my cheeks. And then nothing. The injuries that landed me in this hospital bed tell me it wasn’t all in my head, but it’s my head that can’t seem to grasp onto the memories that got me here. “Not much.”
Her hands find their way back to the side of the bed, holding on to the railing like she needs the support. “Do you remember what you do for a living?”
“I remember I’m a firefighter. I remember how to do my job.” Chuckling, I add, “Even my schedule for the week.” I rest my head back, staring up at the ceiling. “So much information returns so easily, most memories without hesitation, except for the grand finale.”
“What’s the grand finale?”
I chuckle, realizing firefighter humor might not land on citizens. Rolling my head to the side to face her again, I reply, “The fire. The backdraft. I can’t remember it.”
“It’s natural to block out traumatic events.” With a tilt of her head, she manages the slightest smile, though the concern in her eyes overrules it. “What about your life and family?”
“I remember my life and my mom. My coworkers. My friends. Just not the explosion.”
Her eyes widen. “There was an explosion?” Did she not know? I’d think it would have traveled the grapevine of the Cove and back again.
“That’s what knocked me from the ladder.” Yelling on the TV draws my attention to a sportscaster going off about college football. “Fighting fires can be dangerous.” Though I shouldn’t smirk, joking keeps my injuries from getting into my head deeper than they already have.
“Do you know what caused the explosion?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. I don’t know if they know yet. If they do, I’m out of the loop.”
She leans against the bed. Curiosity has her braving any boundaries she was worried about earlier. “Do you remember the town and the past, like high school or middle school? And before that?”
“Homegrown in Mountain Laurel Cove. I’m twenty-six. Studied architecture in college but decided to go to fireman’s academy after graduation. If we’re time traveling back further than that, I played football in high school and was crowned prom king.” I cock a brow, trying to keep the grin off my face this time. “I should feel more shame than I do over that.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed you were a quarterback.” She smirks this time, making me laugh.
“The night nurse brought jokes.”
“The nurse,” she whispers as if for her own ears. Odd, but I’m more curious about how she knew I played quarterback when I only said football.
“Do you live in the Cove or drive in for work?”
She crinkles her brow before seemingly checking the score of the game flashed on the screen. Her gaze slowly glides back to me. All seriousness has left the room, leaving us with a comfort settling between us, and easing her pretty features back into place. “I live here.” Her shoulders straighten, and she adjusts the tray in front of me. “You should eat and get some rest.”
“All I do is rest. I find you much more interesting.”
“Interesting is an interesting word choice.” She turns to the monitor and taps something on the keyboard.
“Why?”
“No reason.” She flashes another grin in my direction before heading for the door. “Give me a call if you need anything.”
“Anything at all?”
She laughs, looking back over her shoulder. “It’s a hospital, not a hotel. I’m a nurse, not room service, so keep it within this realm if you can manage, Mr. Culver.”
“Gotcha. Hey, Nurse?” Before she has a chance to get away again, I say, “You can call me Brandon. What should I call you?”
I’m knocked sideways by the prettiest smile I ever did see when she replies, “Autumn.”