Page 2 of Crash

“No,” I said, channeling the same convincing tone I used when assuring a mother of the bride that rain on the wedding day was good luck. “I’ve never fainted before. Really, I’m fine.”

She smiled, but didn’t budge. “Dr. Hansen will be in shortly to examine you.”

My shoulders dropped in relief when she said, “Dr. Hansen.” Not Blake. Maybe the powers that be were finally calling off their vendetta against me.

A movement caught my eye through the doorway: an elderly man lying on a gurney in the hallway, his weathered face drawn with pain, making my own discomfort suddenly feel trivial. Rationally, doctors and nurses knew better than I did about urgent care priorities, and it was probably presumptuous to interfere, but I couldn’t relax until I knew he wasn’t being overlooked.

“Nurse?” I called out softly. “Is someone checking on that gentleman in the hall? He looks like he needs help.”

She gave me an appraising look, but, perhaps sensing the sincere worry in my tone, nodded and returned minutes later to assure me he was being well cared for, just waiting on next steps.

Only then did I let myself breathe easier.

Just as my muscles started to unclench, however, I heard it. His voice. That deep, rich baritone that had haunted my dreams for years. Outside my room, it rolled through the emergency room like a coming storm, my stomach performing a gymnastics routine worthy of an Olympic medal.

“Tessa.” A redheaded female without a single wrinkle on her alabaster skin entered my ER room, white coat pristine against navy scrubs. “I’m Dr. Hansen.” She glanced at my chart, then at the monitor. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”Lying. Definitely lying.“Ready to leave actually.”

Dr. Hansen’s exam went by in a blur of questions and vital checks while my body remained hyperaware of every shadowpassing by the door, every echo of that familiar voice. My phone buzzed again with probably the tenth call from my client. At this rate, I’d not only lose their wedding, but my entire business. Still better than?—

There. A flash of dark hair that was unmistakably his. Short, professional, but a little longer on top, imperfectly perfect. Lucky for my dignity, he had his back to me, but even that view sent my pulse skyrocketing.

Dr. Hansen’s eyes narrowed at the monitor. “Are you feeling anxious?”

Only about the fact that the man who’s starred in every romantic fantasy I’ve had since I was sixteen might walk through that door.

Oh, and as a bonus, he might discover the secret I’ve been hiding for the past year.

“Just … eager to get back to work.” I forced a smile. “Important client.”

“Well, your pupils are equal and reactive, no signs of neurological deficit, and your speech is clear.” She looped her stethoscope back around her neck. “But given the loss of consciousness, I’d like to get a head CT, just to be safe.”

“How long will that take?”Please say five minutes. Please say I can escape before?—

“Not long. And if the scan comes back normal, we should be able to discharge you.”

First good news all day. I could do this. Hide in this room until the results came back, then execute a strategic escape that would make Navy SEALs proud.

“The attending physician will be in shortly to complete your exam.”

Every organ in my body attempted to relocate itself. “I thought you were my doctor?”

“I’m the resident. Protocol requires the attending physician to examine you as well.”

“Is that really necessary?”Like, legally necessary? Constitutional-rights necessary? Geneva Convention necessary?

“He can examine you while we’re waiting for the CT.”

He. Not she. My pulse quickened into a drumbeat of apprehension.

“Don’t worry; it shouldn’t delay your discharge.”

Yeah, that wasn’t exactly my concern here. But before I could ask which attending was assigned to this particular room, she disappeared, leaving me alone with my mounting dread.

I stared at the ceiling, mentally drafting my petition to the universe for a mercy rule. Like I needed another masterclass in humility right now. Between my failing business, my train wreck of a love life, and this mysterious health situation I’d been hiding, surely, I’d maxed out my quota of life lessons.

The thing about rock bottom though is that it looks deceptively solid until life decides to break out its jackhammer.