Page 7 of Exposed Ink

“Did you have a good time?” Brandon asks while I drive us back to the hotel.

“The best. And I can’t wait to go to the zoo tomorrow. I was thinking we could do Brenna’s room with a zoo theme.”

“Yeah, that would be cool. What if we?—”

Brandon’s words are cut off when the car hits something—a puddle? I’m not sure—and starts to hydroplane. I’ve driven in the snow many times, but as I try to hit my brakes to slow down, it feels like nothing I do works, and within seconds, the car is spinning out of control. Between the rain and the speed, everything becomes a blur.

And then we hit something hard.

There’s a scream, followed by a cry, and then an immense amount of pain spreads throughout my body before everything goes black.

* * *

The Present

The beepingof the monitors and the smell of antiseptic shake me from my thoughts. I’m in a hospital, getting treated for OAS—oral allergy syndrome.

The last time I was in a hospital, I lost everything—my husband, my baby, and my entire purpose in life. But tonight, thanks to the paramedics who quickly got it under control, and the doctor and nurses who made sure I was stable once I arrived at the hospital, I’ll be okay.

My throat hurts, and I’m a bit itchy, but I’ll survive—unlike my baby girl and husband, who died that night because of me.

“Well, at least your face is less swollen,” a gentleman says, leaning against the doorframe with his feet crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest.

I can make out the town fire department logo peeking out on his left pec, and when my eyes meet his, I recognize him as the paramedic who reassured me it would all be okay. The entire drive, while I begged him not to take me here, he worked on me while also calming my racing heart and saving me from adding a panic attack to my laundry list of issues.

“Thanks,” I say with an awkward laugh. “I’m usually more careful about what I drink and eat. If the fruit is cooked, I’m good. It’s the raw stuff I have to stay away from.”

He nods, pushes off the doorframe with his shoulder, and steps inside. “I’m Shane Evans.”

“I’d tell you my name, but I’m sure you already know it, thanks to the pile of paperwork I’ve probably caused you.”

He chuckles, and if I wasn’t immune to the opposite sex, the soft laugh, mixed with his warm smile, would affect me in a way that I haven’t been affected in a long time. Not since my husband died.

“It’s all good. I was just finishing up and wanted to come by and check on you.”

“Do you check on all the patients you bring in?” I ask curiously.

The way his cheeks tinge a light shade of pink tells me my answer.

Shit, he’s totally going to ask for my number.

“I appreciate you checking on me, but?—”

“Oh my God! Thank God you’re okay!” Natalia storms into the room like the hurricane she is, the door closing behind her. “I was so scared.”

She throws her arms around me, and while she hugs me, my eyes meet Shane’s. They’re golden brown, reminding me of a warm brownie—delicious, but if eaten in large quantities, bad for your health. His arms are corded with muscle, and his shirt stretches across his chest in a way that’s natural yet shows off the fact that he works out and keeps in shape.

I notice there’s not a single tattoo in sight, and I briefly wonder if he has any ink. That thought has me averting my gaze because I shouldn’t be thinking about him in any way, let alone considering what’s underneath his clothes.

When Natalia pulls back, she notices Shane standing there, and even though she’s not facing me, I can hear the smile in her voice when she says, “And who are you?”

“I’m Shane,” he says. “I was the paramedic working on Kinsley.”

“Ohh,” she coos. “So, you’re responsible for saving my cousin’s life.”

She saunters over to him, and I roll my eyes. I love my cousin, but she’s such a flirt.

“She wasn’t anywhere near her deathbed,” Shane says with a chuckle, “but, yes, I helped alleviate her symptoms.”

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