Tenderness? A pull to this stranger? To the way she was
looking at her with so much concern?
“I’m okay,” Giana groaned, the words bitter and nasty on
her tongue. Something tasted like blood in her mouth. Had she
bitten her lip when she’d fallen? Nothing really hurt besides
her head.
The ring swirled in the air between them. What was that?
Was this woman her fiancée? If she was engaged, wouldn’t
she remember? Then again, shouldn’t she remember what her
own house looked like and the other members of her family
besides her parents?
“I’m not going to the hospital.”
The stranger blinked, stunned. “Why? You need to go.
There isn’t any blood that I can see but hitting your head like
that is dangerous. You
’re not okay. Please, let me call an
ambulance. You shouldn’t move.”
Giana hated hospitals. She loathed them. She knew that
bone deep, like an age-old instinct, without knowing why. It
was a reflex, and with it came fear. Acid flowed over the back
of her tongue, and she nearly choked on the foul, cold taste of
terror. She swallowed it back, also by old instinct. She sat up,
feeling around the back of her head. All that was there was a
small bump underneath her hair. She winced when she touched
it, but there was no wetness. No blood.
She stared the stranger down. She was on her knees in a
wool coat that also looked vintage. She leaned back as soon as
Giana sat up, obviously against her wishes, since her nose
scrunched up and worry made her eyes bright. Her hair had
been neatly pulled back from her face, her makeup tastefully
