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“I…I don’t remember any of it.”

“That’s okay. It might come back to you in small pieces. Is there someone I can call? Someone to come sit with you?”

That was the question of the day. Who would she call? Certainly not her parents.

“Your parents were here yesterday. I think they said they’d come back today, but they wanted to let you rest.”

“Of course they did.” Bridget tried her damnedest not to roll her eyes or move too much. They wouldn’t want to sit in the hospital with their broken daughter who was no good to them. She’d never fit the mold they had created for her, and it was impossible to. She’d eventually given up—at least, she told herself that.

“Is there anyone else I can call? A partner maybe?”

Bridget stared at her, confused as to whether she meant a work partner or a lover. Either way, no, Bridget didn’t want anyone called. Yet she couldn’t very well be alone, could she? Could she do this and manage to survive all by herself?

“You know,” Ann started, patting her hand again, “I’ve got someone I can call for you, okay? She’ll love to come sit with you until someone else can come.”

“Who?” Bridget nearly shattered. How could this woman she’d never met before read her so fucking well?

“Chaplain Melville. I promise you she’s not like any other chaplain you’ve met.”

“I don’t believe.”

“It won’t matter to her.” Ann squeezed her hand. “All she’ll be is someone who can sit here. All right?”

Bridget nodded, though she wasn’t sure why she was agreeing. She did not want to be preached to or at. Her parents would do that enough when they came.

“Can I call her?” Ann looked so sincere, and the last thing Bridget wanted was to sit by herself for hours to cry out her pain.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Ann left the room, her feet silent on the linoleum floor.

Bridget shifted as best as she could, but pain came searing back through her when she did. This time it wasn’t just in her chest but in her back and in her leg, her head, and her arm. Whatever the hell had happened must have been bad. She lay still, pushing the damn button Ann had given her and hoping it would be enough to take the edge off. Except, it didn’t dispense the medicine.

Cursing under her breath, Bridget closed her eyes. She needed to know what was wrong with her and what exactly she needed to do to heal and how long it would take. She needed to know when she could go back to work.

Ann came back in, that same soft smile on her lips. “Hey, she’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay. What happened?”

“You were in a car accident.”

Bridget nodded. “I mean, what’s the damage? I hurt everywhere.”

Ann’s look turned pitying. “I can give you some oral medicine to help take the edge off if you need.”

“That’d be good. This—” she raised her hand as much as she could “—isn’t doing anything.”

“It only dispenses every so often. It’s not a continual drip.”

“Perfect,” Bridget muttered.

“In terms of your injuries, the doctors will give you more details, but you cracked quite a few ribs, which is probably why it’s hard to breathe, you broke an arm and a leg, along with your ankle. I believe you’ll need surgery to fix that before you leave the hospital, but they wanted to be sure the internal bleeding stopped first. That was the primary concern.”

“Internal bleeding.” Bridget’s mind spun. What the hell had happened to her? It was like something had run her over several dozen times.

“It sounds worse than it was, I promise. You did have some abdominal surgery in order to stop the bleeding, but the incision isn’t too large. The main reason you were brought here is because of the head injury and because you weren’t waking up.”

“Head injury?”