CHAPTER1
Consistent beeping permeatedthe dark recesses of Bridget’s brain. Her eyelids were like glue when she tried to open them, and it took more than one attempt to pry them open even a little. Then she had to blink several times before she could see anything clearly. The bed she lay on was decently comfortable, but the beeping got louder.
The white board directly across from her had her name on it along with a slew of other information. Slow deep breaths were difficult, so Bridget switched to shallower breathing. Every muscle in her body was stiff, feeling as though it would take monumental effort to move. The room was small with a sliding glass door that was about a quarter of the way open, but it wasn’t easy to move her neck to see out of it.
Bridget counted to ten, closing her eyes and trying to remember what had landed her here. A hospital was not someplace she ever wanted to wake up in alone. It scared the living daylights out of her and proved just how solitary a life she lived. Flexing her fingers, she tried to reach for a call button or something, anything that would alert someone she was awake and needed answers and that she really didn’t want to be by herself, but she could barely move, and when she did, it hurt.
A new beep sounded next to her as the blood pressure cuff inflated and tightened around her arm. She couldn’t do anything to help herself—it was awful. She lay there, still and silent, because she wasn’t even sure if her voice would work. Or what she would say. A tear leaked from her eye, falling down her cheek and disappearing, the hot course it had taken burning her skin.
It was light outside, that much she could tell at least, but she could barely turn to see the window and attempt to figure out what time of day it was. Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes to refocus herself. She was the fucking sheriff. She could do this, figure out what she was doing here, how she had ended up here. Slowing her breathing, Bridget centered herself. It took longer than she wanted to admit, but the technique she’d learned from the one therapist she’d fired seemed to work at long last.
Feeling slightly more even-keeled, Bridget opened her eyes, found the clock on the wall, and read the time. A little after ten in the morning. All right, now she had to figure out what day it was. How long had she been laid up in the hospital without her knowing? And again, where the hell was everyone?
Squinting because she didn’t have her glasses, Bridget had to focus to make out the date on the board. She couldn’t make it out, the lines too blurry for her bad eyesight. And she couldn’t remember either. It wasn’t like whatever happened to her was coming back full force, or any tidbits for that matter.
Bridget rustled around, attempting to find the call button. She wanted to know what happened, and it would be easier to listen to someone tell her than try and figure it out from her non-existent memory. She had an IV in each arm and medical tape in more places than she cared to count. As she moved around, the tubes pulled slightly, but she didn’t stop until she found the small white remote-like device. She pressed the large button on the top and breathed a sigh of relief.
Someone would be coming soon. They had to.
Bridget tried to hold in her tears, gritting her teeth and tightening her shoulders until it hurt, but then she couldn’t loosen the muscles up again. Pain edged its way into the periphery of her mind, and her shallow breaths became harder to gasp.Fuck, what am I doing?
She needed to calm down. That much was obvious. Managing to do that, however, was not easy. Bridget had always been a ball of nerves and tension whenever she had to sit and think and be by herself, and not knowing how she landed herself here—and having no one come in and explain it to her—was beyond comprehension. She couldn’t do this alone.
Intentionally calming herself, Bridget closed her eyes and attempted to focus on her breathing, but the beeping and the gentle hum of machines kept distracting her. It took everything in her not to jump when the sliding glass door made a metallic sound as it was pushed open wider. Her eyelids flew open, and she stared at a middle-aged nurse with a short salt-and-pepper hair, dark blue scrubs, and wide hips.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, coming over to the machines and hitting a button. “This is your morphine drip. If you need more, hit the red button.”
A small device was shoved into her palm. Bridget moved her hand to look at it, finding the button on top. She clicked it, hoping the morphine would ease the ache in her chest.
“Has the doctor talked to you yet?”
“No.” Bridget’s voice did not sound like her own. It was crackly and hard, barely recognizable.
“I’ll get you some water for that.” The nurse pressed buttons on the machines and then leaned against the railing. “Do you remember waking up before?”
“No,” Bridget repeated, confused. She’d woken up before? The last thing she remembered was going to work in the morning, putting her gear on and getting into her cruiser. She didn’t even remember getting to the station. “What day is it?”
“Friday.”
Bridget’s eyes widened as shock rang through her. “Friday? What happened to Thursday?”
“You were in and out a lot of yesterday. Severe concussion.” The nurse’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry you don’t remember waking up any. You were pretty out of it when you did.”
Parting her lips, Bridget narrowed her eyes to try and see the white board again, see if this lady was telling her the truth or not. She couldn’t have missed an entire day. “What happened?”
“You were in a car accident. I’ll let the doctor explain your injuries, but it was pretty nasty.”
“Car accident?” Bridget closed her eyes and sighed, knowing the answer so she didn’t even bother to ask. “While on duty.”
“Yeah. We’ve kept the deputies out for now, but I’ll let them in if you want.”
“No, please don’t.” Bridget would be mortified if they all saw her like this. She couldn’t even remember the accident. She wondered if she ever would, but until that came to pass, she was stuck in the hospital.
“You’re in ICU, by the way. I’m not sure if you’ve figured that out. I’m Ann. I’ve been your nurse the last couple of days.”
Bridget looked at her, the compassion echoing in Ann’s eyes so full of pity and pain. Bridget almost couldn’t stand it. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she begged her brain to make it so she didn’t cry. She didnotwant to cry.
“It’s okay.” Ann reached over the railing and grasped her hand. “It’s okay to cry. It’s a shock to wake up in here, I’m sure.”