Page 3

Three

Dash

I tap my fingers impatiently on the tray table as I peruse the papers in front of me.

A phone call to one of my cyber experts late last night resulted in having a file with all the information he could dig up on one Dylan Theodore Durand couriered to me here at the hospital.

Born and raised in Indianapolis.

Dropped out of UCLA his junior year because he got a small part in a big action-adventure movie. His acting career didn’t take off but his producing did. And over the last ten years he’s made quite a name for himself.

On paper, he seems like a great guy.

Handsome, wealthy, altruistic, and engaged to one of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. They’re a power couple that everyone seems to love.

If I hadn’t heard him talking to her with my own ears, I wouldn’t believe that he was capable of anything nefarious.

Except there’s a sealed juvie record my guy couldn’t get his hands on.

Yet .

I told him it was a priority, and I didn’t care whom he had to bribe to get a glimpse at it.

There was also an incident in college, but the details are sketchy, which bugs me.

A he said-she said situation where there was simply what’s referred to as an “incident” in the report, and which was settled by the student services department.

Whatever that means.

That’s a red flag if I ever heard one, but I know the woman’s name, so I may send someone to talk to her. Something I would normally handle myself.

Except I’m still stuck in this fucking gilded cage.

My surgeon said I was good to go, but the neurologist said one more day of observation, since I’m still getting headaches if I don’t take the meds.

And it’s a catch-22. Concussions can cause dizziness.

Dizziness means I could fall. Falling could fuck up the already fucked-up hip.

The same one I need to heal as quickly as possible.

So here I am.

It’s one in the morning and I’m wide awake.

Again.

I close the file and shove it to the side as I get to my feet.

I’m more confident today, and though I still hate the damn walker, they said I can move to a cane if I don’t have any setbacks between now and when I’m released. And since I’ll be damned if I’ll use a walker at home, I’m going to be careful.

Besides, I’ve walked past Willow’s room multiple times today, making sure her dickhead of a fiancé isn’t back. But she’s been alone, which is as much of a relief as it is sad.

How does a beautiful, successful movie star not have a single person sitting with her?

Friends? Family? Private nurse? No one? Even the fiancé, who supposedly adores her, only comes by intermittently.

The research I did tells me Willow has a very involved mother in her life… so where the hell is she?

It all feels a little off to me.

So I spend some time basically stalking her room.

She’s as beautiful lying there in a coma as she is in the pictures I found of her online.

In some ways, even more so. There’s an innocence to her as she sleeps, and for some reason it breaks my heart that she might never wake up.

I don’t even know her but there’s something incredibly…

vulnerable about her as she lies there. It’s almost like she’s subconsciously asking for my help.

And I’m a sucker for a woman in trouble.

I hear a voice as I walk up to her room for the fourth or fifth time today, but this is a familiar one.

It’s Holly, and I’m momentarily confused.

“ As no objection was made to the young people’s engagement with their aunt, and all Mr. Collins’s scruples of leaving Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a single evening during his visit were most steadily resisted, the coach conveyed him and his five cousins at a suitable hour to Meryton… ”

What the hell am I listening to?

Holly must be reading to Willow.

Interesting.

Based on the verbiage, it’s some sort of historical novel.

And for some reason, I’m rooted to the spot, listening.

Holly’s voice is soothing, and the story gets my attention.

“ ...Oh! No—it is not for me to be driven away by Mr. Darcy. If he wishes to avoid seeing me, he must go… ”

Mr. Darcy.

Wait, this sounds like Pride and Prejudice.

Briar made me sit through the movie once, but I fell asleep. Romance really isn’t my thing.

“Mr. Dash, you should be in bed.” Renita is one of the not-so-nice nurses. Well, she’s okay, but a real stickler for the rules.

“I’m supposed to walk,” I say calmly. “And I can’t sleep. So the choice is either lie there and keep pushing the little button to bitch about anything and everything to the nurses or walk up and down the corridors without bothering anyone.”

She purses her lips. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes. Then I want you back in bed.” She turns on her heel and disappears into a room down the hall.

“ ...His behavior to myself has been scandalous; but I verily believe I could forgive him anything and everything, rather than his disappointing the hopes and disgracing the memory of his father… ”

The book is somehow much more interesting than the movie, and I stand there for what feels like a long time, listening to Holly read.

Sometime later—I’ve completely lost track of how long I’ve been standing here—Holly comes out.

“Mr. Dash.” She smiles. “Lurking in the halls again? Do you want a sleeping pill?”

I shake my head. “No, thank you. Your voice caught my attention and then somehow I got pulled into the story.”

“Pride and Prejudice. Such a classic. And apparently it’s Ms. St. Claire’s favorite book. Mr. Durand brought it in this morning, said maybe someone could read it to her. He heard that sometimes it helps coma patients if you read and talk to them.”

“Yeah? So how come he isn’t doing it?” I counter.

Her eyes meet mine, and I see a weird mixture of approval and disappointment in her eyes.

“I wish I knew,” is all she says.

“So… does it?” I ask. “Help, I mean.”

“We don’t know for sure, but yes, there are stories from people who’ve come out of comas saying that they could hear loved ones talking to them. Reading. Playing their favorite music.” She glances back to where Willow is still motionless on the bed. “But we’re losing hope for Willow…”

“Maybe she just needs a little more time,” I suggest quietly.

“We’re hoping so.” She pats my arm. “Anyway, I’m going to do my rounds and then come back and read to her some more. Try to get some rest, Mr. Dash.”

“You can just call me Dash,” I mumble. “Or Hudson.”

“You look like a Hudson.”

I don’t think I know what a Hudson is supposed to look like, but she goes on her way and I pause in Willow’s doorway, watching intently. I feel a little bit like a creeper, but I would never hurt her or do anything inappropriate.

I’m just worried about her.

I don’t know her, and I don’t know what’s going on with her fiancé, but he scares me. There is no doubt in my mind he’ll hurt her if he takes her home. Everything inside of me is screaming that she needs protection, and despite my injury, that’s what I do.

I protect people.

People who are vulnerable in some way.

And Willow seems to be vulnerable in every way at the moment.

It’s not like I’m going to fall asleep any time soon, so I look up and down the hallway, which is now deserted.

What would be the worst thing that could happen if I continue reading to her? Just for a little while. Maybe, if I’m lucky, it’ll make me tired. If not, at least I can feel like I’m accomplishing something by keeping her company when she’s spent far too much time alone.

I slowly walk into the room and sink into the chair at her bedside.

She’s pale and blond, her slight figure hidden beneath what seems like a mountain of blankets.

Eyelashes so light they’re almost invisible as they dot her cheeks like lace, and delicate features make her seem doll-like.

Her hair looks like spun silk, like someone has been taking good care of it since she’s been in the coma.

Part of me wants to reach out and touch it, but I keep my hands to myself,

Instead, I reach for the copy of Pride and Prejudice. It’s a hard cover, with fancy embossed leather and etched gold. The pages, however, are well worn and there’s no doubt in my mind she’s read this book many times.

I open to the page that’s bookmarked and pick up where Holly left off.

“‘… I had not thought Mr. Darcy so bad as this—though I have never liked him. I had not thought so very ill of him—I had supposed him to be despising his fellow-creatures in general, but did not suspect him of descending to such malicious revenge, such injustice, such inhumanity as this… ’”

Elizabeth is not a fan of this Darcy dude. I may have to go back and read what I missed to find out why.

I chuckle to myself and keep reading.

At some point, I must have dozed off because I wake with a start, someone touching my arm.

“Hudson. Good morning,” Holly murmurs. “It’s six a.m. and time for your meds.”

“Shit.” I sit up and roll my neck. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“A good book can do that to you.” She takes it from my hands and puts it back on the table beside Willow. “Let’s get you back to your room. I owe you a sponge bath today.” She’s kidding because I’m allowed to shower.

I groan anyway, just to mess with her. “I was just starting to like you…”

“You love me,” she says, laughing. “Now, up you go.”

For some reason, I’m reluctant to leave.

But I’ll be back.

If for no other reason than I want to find out what happens next.