Page 2 of Breaking Bristol

Everyone else I’d met was just as kind. I’d even made friends with a few of the women, Georgia being the first. She was best friends with Cheyenne, and they’d welcomed me into their group without question. Cheyenne was also the mother of a student, so I talked to her almost every day when she dropped her daughter Lucy off. She invited me to the Christmas celebration at her new house tonight, but I politely declined because I didn’t want to intrude on her and her husband Sutton’s precious family time.

I remembered what those days used to be like—the mess from making sugar cookies, the sound of children’s laughter, the feeling of love and happiness so thick it was palpable. But that was all before. That life was gone now. It wasn’t mine anymore, and I feared I’d never have it again.

So instead of my quaint little cabin filled with the aroma of cookies or boisterous with laughter, it smelled of a frozen pizza baking and was soundless except for the low hum of a television.

When the timer on the oven went off, I got up to remove my Christmas dinner. I pulled open the utensil drawer and slid my hand along the side to grab the pizza cutter. Once my fingers were around the handle, I took it out and gasped at the blood dripping down my arm. “Shit.”

I ran to the sink and turned the water on, wincing when it rained on a large laceration on my palm. I didn’t even feel my hand getting sliced open, but it was deep, and the pain began to settle in. I yanked a bunch of paper towels off the roll and pressed it tight, but in only a couple of minutes the white absorbent sheets were saturated with bright red blood.

“Dammit!” I tossed them into the trash and grabbed a dish towel to wrap around my hand, then shoved a couple more in my purse just in case.

It was still rather warm for the end of December, so I drove to the closest emergency room with the windows down, partly for fresh air but also as a distraction since my hand was now pounding in pain. I followed the signs and parked in front of the entrance, then walked inside.

Only one other person was in the waiting room, but they were sleeping, so I was hopeful I could get seen immediately. I went to the reception desk, and a woman standing in the corner talking to a security guard came right over as soon as she saw me. “Oh my,” she exclaimed as she asked my name while handing over a clipboard with forms to fill out.

And without uttering a word, I turned around and walked out because, for a moment, I forgot.

Living in a town that made me feel safe with people who genuinely cared and never pried about my past or questioned why I was here made it so easy to forget why I was here in the first place.

Warrenville was small and quiet, but the hospital was in Lawless, a larger town about twenty minutes away, and I hadn’t taken the time to think about what they would ask of me that Shane could possibly use to track me down.

I’d been lucky so far. I paid rent that included all utilities with cash. I got hired at the school with my credentials and the written letters of recommendation I provided. The only reference they called was the only person who knew where I was, the same person who helped me escape and provided me with a phone and car that wasn’t in my name.

I didn’t even have a checking account; instead, I cashed my paychecks at the issuing bank and purchased everything I needed with cash.

There had been no reason for anyone to have my personal details until now… and I was freaking out.

I tossed the blood-soaked towel into the trash and got another out of my purse then hurried to my car, where I stood and stared for a long minute before I plopped down on the curb and burst into tears.

I didn’t even know if me giving the hospital my information was traceable, but I felt like I was finally safe and not looking over my shoulder every two seconds, and I didn’t want to risk that.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” My head lifted at the sound of a soothing, masculine voice, and my watery gaze collided with emerald-green eyes that took my fragile breath away. “Do you need help inside?” he asked, crouching in front of me.

“No,” I croaked and then embarrassingly cleared my throat. “ I-I was just leaving.”

He tilted his head that was covered with a backward baseball cap, then purposely looked at the bloody towel I was clutching before his gaze came back to me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“What’s your name?” he asked gently.

“What’s yours?”

“Dr. B,” he answered. “And you are…?”

I studied him, and every feature on his handsome face told me he was harmless. I’d been wrong before, but I’d have liked to think I was a better judge of character after the really fucking hard lessons I’d learned. I thought about giving him a fake name but decided against it. “I’m Bristol.”

“Hi, Bristol.”

I refused to let myself comprehend how sexy his voice was when he said my name. “Hi.”

“Have you been seen yet?”

My head jerked minutely.

“Do you need help getting inside?”

I looked over his shoulder when I answered. “No. I was already in there.”

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