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There’s no way to know what those limitations will be either, which bugs the shit out of me. At least, if I knew exactly what I’m dealing with, I could come up with a plan.

Instead, I’m wandering down a deserted hospital corridor in the middle of the night.

I’m almost to the other end of the hall when I hear voices coming from the last room. There shouldn’t be visitors at this time of night, so I’m about to turn and head back in the other direction when I pick up a few words.

“...what game you’re playing, but if I find out you’re faking it, I will fucking end you. Do you hear me? You in there, Willow? You fucking stupid whore—there won’t be any more of this fake coma shit when I get you home. And that’s happening soon. So whatever you think you’re doing, the jig is almost up.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I’m rooted in place.

Who is this guy and why is he talking to a patient like that?

I shouldn’t get involved—it’s not like I can do anything about it—but it feels wrong to leave. Instead, I duck into one of the computer alcoves the nurses use, my back turned.

A moment later, I feel him as he breezes past and I slowly turn my head, watching as the man practically saunters toward the elevators.

He’s medium height, average weight, with curly dark hair and expensive shoes.

That’s about all I can tell from the back.

Well, he has an expensive leather coat on too.

“Mr. Durand.” One of the nurses I recognize—she’s one of the nice ones—approaches him. “You know visiting hours ended a long time ago.”

“I know, Holly, but I just…” He sighs, his tone so sad and emotional I wouldn’t have believed this was the same guy if I hadn’t heard him talking not two minutes ago. “...I hate that she’s here alone. That she won’t wake up. It’s killing me.”

“I know.” The nurse puts a comforting hand on his arm.

“It’s been almost a month,” Mr. Durand continues. “Why isn’t she waking up?”

“Head injuries are tricky. We really don’t know. But the thing is…” Her voice turns serious. “If she doesn’t wake up soon, they’re going to suggest moving her to a long-term care facility.”

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head. “I’m taking her home. I can take better care of her than any facility.”

“She’s lucky to have you,” Holly says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Good night, Holly.” He gives her a blinding smile that almost gives me whiplash.

What the fuck is going on?

“Mr. Dash.” Holly spots me and comes marching in my direction. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“It’s loud,” I say with a shrug. “How’s anyone supposed to get any sleep? And I’m bored. And hungry.”

She shakes her head. “If you go back to bed and rest, I’ll defrost one of those acai bowls you like…with a little granola on top?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

“Are you flirting with me?” I demand, trying to sound stern.

She’s sixty if she’s a day, and she giggles. “I am not. But I will if it means getting you into bed.”

I laugh.

For the first time in a week.

And it feels good.

“Thanks for that,” I say, smiling at her. “I haven’t had much to laugh about this week.”

“Part of my job… now come on. Let’s get you settled and I’ll find you a snack. You can flirt with me after you’ve gotten some rest.”