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Ann nodded. “But you seem to be far more together now. I’ll let the doctors know you’re awake so they can come talk to you about everything.”

Bridget swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

Yet the one question she had still hadn’t been answered. What kind of car accident had she been in? If these were her injuries, it must have been catastrophic. She remained quiet until Ann left the room after puttering around some more and inputting information on the computer. Bridget had never much been one for small talk, but just Ann’s presence was soothing enough for her.

Almost as soon as Ann left, another woman came in, her stark white collar against her black shirt making it obvious who she was. Bridget couldn’t remember her name, however. Ann had said it so fast. Her hair was shoulder length and a nice light brown, and her eyes had that same pitying look Ann’s did.

“Hi, I’m Chaplain Melville, but you can call me June if you want. Ann said you could use some company.”

Bridget had to hold back her tears again, and she was so mad at the fact that she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She felt stupid for it. She was never one who showed her emotions like this, and the feeling of it was worse than the pain from her laundry list of injuries.

June stepped right up to the bed and grasped Bridget’s hand. “Hey now. It’s all right. It’s good to cry, you know.”

“I don’t like it.”

June gave her a small smile, her lips curving up beautifully. “I understand that. I don’t like it much either. It’s kind of a real shitty feeling mixed with the release, isn’t it? Oh, and the headache afterward.”

Bridget stared at her with wide eyes. “Did you just cuss?”

Rolling her eyes, June chuckled. “Ann said you’re the sheriff.”

“I am.”

“I thought it might make you slightly more comfortable. You don’t have to act a certain way for me, Bridget. I’m here to be whatever you need right now, okay?”

“Okay,” Bridget whispered. “When my parents show up, I need you to kick them out if they try to stay longer than an hour. I can’t handle more than that with them.”

June’s gaze softened. “Do you want me to let the nurses know that too?”

“Please.”

“Done.” June gave her a brilliant smile. “I’ll stay here as long as you need. Is there someone else we can call to come sit with you, though? Someone who is a friend or another relative?”

“No.” Bridget couldn’t look her in the eye when she admitted this. “No, there’s no one.”

June didn’t answer, just squeezed her hand. Ann came back in and pushed a pill at her with some water. It took Bridget a bit to be able to sit up enough to sip the drink and swallow it, but the water felt heavenly on her throat.

June stayed with her and chatted about whatever topics they came up with. Bridget was just sliding back to sleep when the voice she most dreaded hearing echoed down the hall. June must have caught her tension, because she straightened up and turned toward the door.

“My parents,” Bridget whispered, eyeing June like she was about to be thrown into the family secrets. “Be warned. They’ll likeyouat least, so long as you don’t curse in front of them.”

“Duly noted,” June answered.

Sharon rushed into the room, her dark wool jacket over her shoulders, her dark pin-straight hair down her back. She eyed June suspiciously, stopping right in the door, her gaze flicking to June’s hand clasped over Bridget’s. Sharon said nothing as Edward came in behind her.

“I’m Chaplain Melville. I work at the hospital.” June didn’t remove her hand from Bridget’s, for which she was very grateful.

“Oh!” Immediately, Sharon’s entire demeanor changed. “I thought…never mind. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Bridget stared wide-eyed at her mother and father. “I am.”

“How long have you been up?” Sharon asked.

“Few hours at most. I don’t really remember. I can’t see without my contacts.”

“Edward,” Sharon turned to her husband, “Did you bring her glasses?”

He shook his head. Bridget nearly snorted but held it in. Why would her father ever remember something useful like that? Her mother, on the other hand, would likely purposely forget the glasses if only to make it harder on Bridget. That had been the name of the game her entire life growing up. In the shadow of her perfect siblings, she was the youngest and the worst screwup of all of them. Landing herself in the hospital in ICU was only proof of that.