Page 134 of Forbidden Game

I frown, confused by the question. But it’s enough to rip me out of the painful memory. I haven’t had a nightmare about the accident in years, and never one as real as that had been. Everything comes flooding back, but recent memories are still hazy. I fight through them.

“Twenty—” My voice stutters, and I see his eyes widen. “Twenty-six. Sorry,” I rush out.

“Don’t be. That’s good. That’s really good.”

Relief floods his wrinkled face, and he lets out a sigh, patting my hand before pulling a chair to the side of the hospital bed.

My body itches at the familiarity of the scene. I hate hospitals. Hate being in them. Hate what they remind me of.

“Thank God, Sydney. You had me worried there.” A watery tear drips down his face.

“What happened?”

“There was an accident; a car hit yours.”

A new wave of panic rolls over me as flashes come back to me.

“The girls.” The words leave me with such raw pain.

“They’re fine. Just a bit bruised up, like you, but fine. The vehicle hit your side first, but the car you were in was quite the tank; it took most of the damage. The other driver died on impact though.”

My chest hollows at the mention of death, but the relief I feel that the girls are all right wins out.

I let out a sigh only to wince at the pain it creates. My ribs feel like they’re on fire.

My hand comes up to cup my side, but it sets off a jolt of pain in my shoulder. Stars burst in my vision.

“Are you sure nothing’s broken?” I wheeze.

“Trust me, that boyfriend of yours made sure you had every test possible.” He gives me a pointed look that says I have some explaining to do. “Your shoulder was dislocated, so they had to reset it. Your ribs have bruising, but there’s nothing they can do other than monitor it. The others have some whiplash.”

Suddenly, I break down in tears, everything becoming way too much. My dad starts crying as well, and it just spurs me on further. It hurts, but the emotions wrack my body with violent sobs.

I know better than to keep it in.

“Sydney.”

I look up through blurred eyes, but I don’t need to see to know who it is. That voice is written in my DNA.

“Parker,” I sob.

The bed dips with his weight as his hands come around my face. The whites of his eyes are lined with red, making them look even more icy blue than usual.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little sore.”

“Sorry.” He immediately removes his touch.

“No.” I fight through the fire in my shoulder to grab his hands. Our connection is what I need right now. Seeing him is what I need. “Don’t be sorry.”

He grips my hands more tightly and brings them up to his forehead briefly before placing a kiss on them. He looks up at me from our joined hands. Worry lines are thick between his brows.

“But I am. I am so fucking sorry, love.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve made you stay in the car with us.”

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