Page 1 of Crash

1

TESSA

Of all the ways to start my day, crashing to the ground and subsequently knocking myself unconscious wasn’t what I had in mind. But little did I know, that in T-minus five minutes, that physical pain would be nothing compared to the emotional gut punch that was about to saunter back into my life. All six foot three of him, with his infuriatingly hypnotic muscles carved by unfair gods, a jaw that could start religions, and the kind of dominant energy that had the power to spontaneously combust every pair of panties within a five-mile radius.

Not that my brain was aware of any of that right now. It was too busy trying to reboot itself from my impromptu meeting with the sidewalk. Current status: rebooting basic human functions. Name loading … 47%. Species identification … 23%. Dignity recovery … failing to launch.

My eyes flew open. Big mistake. Fluorescent lights stabbed my retinas with the enthusiasm of a thousand tiny assassins while some sadistic gremlin with a pickaxe played demolition derby inside my skull. The antiseptic smell burned my nostrils as voices floated around me, growing clearer by the second while a blurry room slowly sharpened into focus. Gray walls. Heartmonitor. IV stand. Each detail a confirmation of my horrifying realization:

I’m lying in a hospital bed.

God Almighty, please no.

“Welcome back.” A woman wearing navy-blue scrubs and a disheveled bun materialized before me. “I’m Amy. You’re in the emergency room. Do you know your name?”

It took me a second to answer, on account of me mentally cataloging every embarrassing thing I could have possibly done while unconscious. The list was disturbingly long.

“Tessa Kincaid.”

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Because apparently, the universe likes to get itself a huge bowl of popcorn and laugh as I twist in agony.

“Um …” I closed my eyes, willing the fragments of memories to assemble into something less mortifying. “I was talking with a friend. Got lightheaded and …” Right, then came theI don’t feel so well, followed by my not-so-graceful descent into unconsciousness. “I … fainted. Kind of.” Not fully, but then the concrete slab smacked into my skull in the most unladylike landing, and, well, that finished the job.

The rest came in snippets. Muffled voices swimming above me. The wail of sirens. My body swaying in what felt like a boat in a storm but had to be an ambulance. My brain serving up consciousness with all the clarity of a drunk GPS, until one thought hit harder than that damn sidewalk:

“Which hospital is this?” I tried to keep my voice from non-shrieking level, like someone who hadn’t spent the last two years actively avoiding one specific emergency room in Chicago.

The city had dozens of hospitals. The odds that the EMTs would’ve brought me to his were astronomical.

“Mercy Harbor,” she answered.

F my life.

Calm down. This is fine. It will be fine.

Hospitals were big, and the chances ofhimbeing here, today, tending to this exact emergency room patient… Those had to be about as likely as me winning the lottery while being struck by lightning during a shark attack.

Right?

Nurse Amy focused on the monitor, her experienced fingers dancing across buttons with practiced precision as she repositioned a blood pressure cuff around my arm, which squeezed like it was trying to extract a confession.

“I’m going to recheck your vital signs and ask you a few questions, okay?” She placed a pulse oximeter on my right index finger. “Do you have any allergies?”

Only to good luck and sensible life choices, apparently. Side effects include spontaneous business failure, romantic disasters, and ending up in my crush’s ER at my absolute rock bottom.

“No.”

“Medical conditions?”

“No,” I lied, the word sticking in my throat like old gum. I’d gotten good at that particular lie over the last year, and as for today’s fainting episode, I preferred to follow up with my normal doctor about this. Not give this woman an excuse to keep me here any longer than legally necessary.

My phone buzzed with a message from my client, probably wondering why their wedding planner hadn’t called them back this morning. But the wedding that could either save my business or sink it completely would have to wait until I convinced the nurse to let me go.

“Look, I haven’t had any water today. I’m sure that’s all this is.”

“Do you faint often?”