Page 19 of Burning for the Billionaire 8

Chapter 9

Rowan

Iblink against thelight that practically singes my retinas. There’s a woman crying—sobbing uncontrollably, actually—standing over me. I’m not sure what’s happening except that I’m lying in a bed. But where? And why?

I open my mouth to speak, maybe to ask her why she’s crying or to ask where I am and what’s going on. However, nothing but a moan comes out. So, I flex my fingers in her hand again. I have this instinct to comfort her, although I’m still trying to figure out who she is. It’s hard to even remember whoIam. Trying to put my thoughts together is causing a massive headache.

“Rowan, it’s okay. You don’t have to speak. I’ll get a nurse.”

One question answered—I’m Rowan. And did she say anurse?

That’s when I register the familiar incessant beeping of monitors and realize I’m in a hospital.

“Nurse!”

I wince at the shrill call.

“Too loud.” She searches my face. “I’m really sorry. I’m just so happy you’re awake.”

When I just stare at her, her expression crumbles. I guess she sees my confusion because her eyes fill with tears again. “Oh, God, you don’t remember me, do you?”

Staring at her face, I’m drawing a blank. However, I know her voice. I feel like I’ve been dreaming about that voice for a while, but I can’t tell her that. She backs away from my bed and I have a moment to worry about how pale she’s gone before a nurse rushes in.

There’s a flurry of activity after that. A doctor is called, and I’m checked out by way too many people. That alone leaves me exhausted and I have no choice but to give in to sleep, even though I want to see the woman whose face I saw when I first woke up.

***

When my eyes open again, I’m a little less confused. I know I’m in the hospital. Doctors and nurses have been in and out, throwing a bunch of words around, so I learn I’ve suffered a severe head injury that had me out of commission, plus a spinal fracture.

That’s why I’m wearing a neck brace. The thought has me momentarily panicked and I wiggle my fingers and toes. They move, and I sigh my relief. That’s a good sign, I suppose. The doctor said I’ll recover just fine since there’s no spinal cord injury or damaged nerves. I’ve got months of recovery ahead of me, though. And a world of pain, I bet—I’m already feeling it.

Before the doctor left, I was finally able to speak to ask a few questions, although I don’t remember much of what he said because I’ve been so out of it. I recall him saying something about some of my cognitive abilities being affected for a while. That’s about right because retrieving some of my memories is a mammoth task.

There’s a soft knock on my door and my eyeballs—the only things I can move without too much effort—swivel toward it. She steps in—the woman I’ve been wanting to see. Her steps to my bed are hesitant.

“Hi.” She offers a smile. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Her question has me confused since she was by my side when I first woke up. But then I remember her devastated expression when she last walked out of here... because I don’t remember her.

I clear my throat, which feels like there are cotton balls stuffed in there. “Yes.” My voice is still gravelly. I drink her in—her long chestnut brown hair, her curves. And she’s got gorgeous eyes. I can’t even remember her name, yet attraction hits me in the chest.

“The nurse told me you were awake,” she says. “It’s good to see you so alert. I was here yesterday, but you were asleep. You’ve been in and out of sleep for days.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I haven’t been oriented to time since I first opened my eyes. Everything is just one big blur.

“Mel, Kevin, and Matt were here, too,” she continues.

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