My Image of You

by Melanie Moreland

  Without thinking, I raised my camera and started clicking. Her gaze flew up, and I captured her startled expression and flushed cheeks to perfection.

  Leaning forward, she grabbed it out of my hand. “Stop that.”

  “The camera loves you.”

  Her cheeks darkened even further. My fingers itched to capture that. They itched to touch her. I stuck my hand back out, to introduce myself. “Adam Kincaid.”

  “I know. I saw your chart, remember?”

  I chuckled at her tone. “Just wanted to do it properly. Your full name? Or should I just call you Nurse Nightingale?”

  She shook my hand, rolling her eyes. “Alex Robbins.”

  I held her hand tighter. “Robin? Another lovely bird. A pleasure, Ms. Robin.”

  “Robbins,” she corrected.

  I winked at her, knowing full well the correct name. But I wanted to tease her—I liked her sassing me back. “Robbins. Got it.”

  I coughed, my throat feeling dry. “May I have some water?”

  She poured me a glass, and I drank the cool beverage.

  “Better?”

  “My mouth tastes like sh— Um, awful.”

  She rummaged in her pocket and brought out a small tin. “I have Altoids. Want one?”

  “That would be great.”

  She pressed a small disk to my lips and for some reason, I wanted to capture the end of her finger and nibble on it, but I resisted. My strange reaction to this woman mystified me.

  “Okay now?”

  The rich taste of cinnamon filled my mouth, banishing the wet wool taste that had been there since I’d woken up. “Thanks.”

  She popped one, too. “I’m addicted to these.” She turned to leave. “I’ll get the doctor and tell him you’re awake.”

  “You’ll come back, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait right here,” I deadpanned, enjoying the banter with her.

  “Good plan,” she stated dryly.

  But she was smiling when she left the room.

  —

  “You have a concussion. I’d like you to stay overnight for observation,” Dr. Nash informed me after his examination and looking over the CT scan.

  I stifled my groan. Was he kidding me with this shit? It wasn’t as though this was my first concussion. I could look after myself. “I don’t need to stay. I’ll be fine.”

  Across the room, Alex chuckled. “He’s a stubborn one, Doc.”

  He frowned. “You said you live alone. You need to be woken up every couple of hours, and your eyes should be flushed a few more times. The wards are full, but you can stay here and Alexandra can check on you and clean your eyes.”

  Suddenly, going home to my empty loft was no longer appealing. Not with the chance of spending more time with the sweet little nurse. I held up my hands in supplication. “If you insist, Doc.”

  He nodded. “Alexandra can stitch you up, if you’re okay with that? She’s got a light touch.”

  I bet she did.

  “Sure, I’m good with that.” Glancing over, I saw her watching us warily and I winked at her. Her gaze skittered away to a spot on the wall and I tried not to snicker as I looked down.

  I liked her reactions to me. A lot.

  Dr. Nash spoke quietly with Alex, patted her shoulder, and left, muttering something about my chart and instructions. I followed his retreating form with narrowed eyes, and then watched as Alex opened cupboards and drawers looking for whatever she needed to stitch me up. If I had to stay, at least I’d get to talk to her. I wanted to know all about her. Anything she would tell me.

  “Why does he call you Alexandra?” I asked as she laid out supplies on the table.

  “He’s my boss, and that’s my name.”

  “You said it was Alex.”

  She smiled at me, the sweetness of it warming my chest.

  “My friends call me Alex. He’s more formal, and he prefers Alexandra, which is fine.”

  Her friends. She introduced herself to me as Alex, as if I was her friend. I liked being thought of as her friend.

  “I need a couple of other needles. I’ll go get them and we’ll get started.”

  Needles—they ranked up there with my dislike of blood. I looked down, not wanting her to see yet another weakness. I was losing all sorts of checks on my man-card tonight. “Yeah, not big on those,” I mumbled.

  She patted my arm in comfort. “Most people aren’t. I can use a topical freezing cream on your head first. You won’t even feel me stitching you up. Promise.”

  I tried to make light of my discomfort, offering her my most charming smile. “Do I get my sucker afterward?”

  With a grin, she pulled one out of her pocket. “There’s another one when I’m done if you’re good for me.”

  I took the sucker, ripped off the plastic cover, and stuck it into my mouth. “Deal. Make it quick, okay?”

  Alex giggled.

  “What?”

  “You’re cute when you’re squeamish.” She laid her hand on my arm and squeezed. “I’ll be gentle.” Then she winked and left the room.

  I crunched my sucker.

  She thought I was cute. Very few people would ever describe me as cute. Yet…

  I was okay with it.

  —

  She did have a light touch, and she was done quicker than I expected. She chatted as she worked away; no doubt to distract me, but her closeness was enough of a distraction already. I rested my hand on her hip while she worked. When she raised her eyebrow at me quizzically, I told her it was to keep her steady. Her eye rolling made me smile.

  Everything about this petite woman seemed to make me smile.

  After applying a bandage, she stepped back. “Okay. Let’s get you comfortable and I’ll give you some painkillers and you can rest. I sent your friend home.”

  I had forgotten about Tommy. I’d text him later.

  “Fine.” I shifted in the uncomfortable bed. “I, ah, I need to, um—”

  “What?”

  “Um—” My hand indicated the door behind her and I was shocked at my inability to say it out loud. I huffed. “I need to hit the head.”

  “Oh, of course.” She nudged the cart out of the way and lowered the bed. “You may be dizzy. Stand up slowly.”

  Swinging my legs out of the bed, I stood, surprised to find she was right. The floor tilted and I reached out. Alex’s arm came around me and I leaned heavily into her, blinking for a moment to clear the white spots flashing across my eyes and get my equilibrium back. “Whoa,” I breathed out.

  She looked up at me from my side. “Are you always this stubborn?”

  I grinned down at her. She was like a pixie, tucked perfectly under my arm. I hadn’t realized just how tiny she was until I stood beside her. “You’re just a little thing, aren’t you?”

  “Pfft,” she scoffed. “I’m big enough to take on the likes of you, buddy.”

  Buddy?

  I chuckled all the way to the can. I kept chuckling as she handed me a set of scrubs to change into, asking me briskly if I needed help. I let her off the hook, finished up, and got dressed myself, gingerly brushing my hair away, wincing at the sight of my bruised forehead in the mirror. Another scar to add to the collection. My dark brown hair was matted in places with blood and bits of gravel, the random shots of silver showing in the bright light. I could see the bruise was going to extend down, the color already forming around my eye socket. My eyes were bloodshot and sore, the eyelids heavy. The dark brown of my iris was barely visible, and I looked exhausted. I splashed some cold water on my face, the temperature feeling good on my cheeks. I ignored the rest of the mess—it would have to wait until I could go home and shower.

  I faked being dizzy so I could put my arm around Alex again on the way back to the bed. I liked how she felt next to me.

  “Can the IV come out now?”

  “Yes. Sit down and I’ll take it out.”

  She helped me sit on the bed and I noticed her lo
oking at my tattoos. Her eyes were wide as she took in all the images revealed on my skin. The whole time she removed the IV, her eyes kept drifting toward the ink on my arms. I was puzzled at the feeling of wanting to show her, to share this part of myself with her. I was usually more reserved.

  “You can touch them if you want,” I offered when she finished securing a small square of plastic covering the injection site.

  She stepped closer, transfixed, as her fingers traced the various designs. Her touch was gentle, almost reverent, as she traced the swirls and designs.

  “Do you like that?” I asked curiously.

  She looked up and nodded. “Do they mean something?”

  I shrugged. “Yes and no. They’re all symbols of legends and myths.” I traced the dragon’s tail. “My father used to read to me a lot,” I explained. “Medieval stories.” I pointed to the sword. “King Arthur, dragon slayers, that sort of thing. I got my first one at eighteen.” I grinned at her. “They are rather addictive.”

  “So I’ve heard. The work is beautiful.”

  So was she.

  “But you don’t like needles?” She sounded puzzled.

  “Tattoos are different. The hum of the machine, the slight bite of the ink—it’s not the same as a sharp jab of a normal needle. Hard to explain, but it doesn’t bother me.” I winked. “And I never look until it’s done and the blood is wiped away.”

  “Ah.”

  “Do you have any ink, Nightingale?”

  “No,” she whispered. “I’d like one someday. But it would have to be hidden.”

  “Hospital policies?”

  “That’s one reason.”

  I was curious about her other reasons, but I let it go. “What would you like to get?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know—something significant. But what, I haven’t decided yet.”

  I studied her bare arms. The skin was pale, dotted with more freckles, making me want to know if those sexy little dots of gold were all over her body.

  “Don’t mar your lovely skin until you’re sure. You’ll wear it the rest of your life.”

  The door opened, breaking the bubble that seemed to have descended around us. “Alex! We need you!”

  It was only when she stepped back I realized how close we had been.

  She handed me some pills and a glass of water. “This will help with the pain. Take them, please.”

  “You’ll be back?” I asked, doing as she asked.

  She smiled. “Yes.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ll check on you after my break.”

  “See you soon, Ally.”

  “Alex,” she corrected me. “My friends call me Alex.”

  I shook my head. “I like Ally.”

  She pushed the call button into my hand. “I have the feeling there isn’t any point in arguing with you. Use that if you need it.”

  I grinned at her retreating figure. I certainly intended to.

  Chapter 2

  The slight creak of the door made the edges of my lips twitch, knowing what was coming next. Ally had checked on me every two hours. I’d hear the soft footfalls of her feet as they came closer, the rubber soles of her shoes making a distinctive squeak on the worn linoleum floor. Then she would lean in, her floral scent surrounding me, and lay her hand on my arm, murmuring my name to wake me up, her voice a gentle balm to my ears. When I didn’t respond, she would shake my arm, then run her fingers over my head, calling my name louder.

  Keeping up the charade, I’d blink and slowly open my eyes, offering her a small grin. “Hey, Ally.”

  She given up correcting me and only smiled at her nickname. I’d ply her with questions as she checked my vitals, inventing excuses to have her stay longer. Somehow, when she’d bend over to flush out my eyes, my hand always found its way to her hip. I held back my amusement at her muttered comment about “handsy patients.”

  I knew her shift was over soon, so this was my last chance. This time I planned on asking for her number, and to see her privately; tonight, if she’d agree. I wanted more time with her. A lot more time. I relaxed into the pillows, waiting for her touch.

  But the footfalls were wrong, and the heavy hand on my shoulder jostling me made my eyes fly open. A tall older woman was standing over me, my chart in her hand. “Wake up, Mr. Kincaid.”

  “Where’s Ally?”

  She frowned at me. “Alex’s shift is over. She went home. I’m Vivian.”

  Disappointment spiked, and anger hummed down my spine.

  She left? Without saying goodbye? There was a flash of disappointment in my chest. Was I the only one who had felt that strange connection between us?

  How hard had I hit my head?

  I sat up, ignoring the small burst of pain as my gaze flew to the clock. “It’s only six. She said she worked until seven,” I insisted.

  Vivian’s eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t aware you knew Alex—or her schedule.”

  “Yeah, we’re, ah, friends. Well, acquaintances. Good ones,” I stressed, hoping she’d give me some more information if she thought we were friends. But her response was short.

  “Well, you can speak with her another time. I sent her home early.”

  “That was kind of you.” It was, but I was still bothered by her leaving.

  She didn’t respond, and I knew there was no point in asking her for Ally’s number. Flinging back the scratchy blanket, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stood slowly. “Going home.”

  She stared, shocked. “I can’t let you leave until the doctor sees you.”

  “Nope. Now. I’ll sign whatever form you want.”

  “Mr. Kincaid—”

  I winced a little, bending down to grab my bag from under the bed. “I’m leaving.” I smirked. “Are you planning on standing there while I drop these scrubs or are you gonna get me those forms?”

  She glared at me. “I heard you were stubborn.”

  I had to laugh—I knew who she had heard that from.

  “Ally was right.” I reached behind my head, beginning to pull off the loose smock and arched my eyebrow. “Am I getting those forms?”

  “Don’t you dare leave until I get back.”

  “Hurry up, then.”

  I wanted out of here.

  —

  Half an hour later, I was standing outside the hospital, cursing Tommy again for startling me last night. My head was pounding nonstop. I put up a good front to the staff, refusing help, agitating Vivian to no end, and finally walking out with her fuming at me for refusing to listen to her advice.

  But now, leaning back on the cold brick wall outside I could see why they wanted me to stay.

  Fuck, my head hurt like a bitch. Between the pain and lack of sleep, I was unsteady on my feet.

  And pissed no one would give me Ally’s information.

  I had to find her. I needed to know if she felt the same connection with me, or if it was all my imagination.

  As soon as I got home, showered this hospital smell off me, and slept for a while, I would try and find her. I had friends who knew people; someone would be able to help me. Or I could take up residence in the hospital lobby and see her when she came back for her next shift. Vivian had let it slip when that would be. I didn’t want to wait for three days, though.

  A hand on my arm, and the gentle voice I recognized, made me start. “Adam, what are you doing out here?”

  I lifted my head off the bricks, a smile already curving my lips as I opened my eyes and stared down at Ally. Her hair was even brighter in the natural light, her eyes shimmering. “Waiting for you.”

  She frowned at my answer. “Why are you out here? You can’t have been released already.”

  “I checked myself out.”

  “What? Are you crazy?”

  I shrugged, noting the concern in her eyes. I liked it. “I only stayed because you were there. You left, so there was no point in hanging around.” I narrowed my eyes. “You left
without saying goodbye,” I added, not caring if that sounded petulant. I was a little pissed over that fact.

  Her cheeks colored, fusing with a deep pink that heightened her pretty face. “Vivian ordered me to go home. I had already had too much overtime.”

  “Then why are you still here?”

  “I had coffee with another nurse. I was leaving and I saw you standing here, holding up the wall. Or is it holding you up?” She shot back.

  I ignored her remark. “You could have come to tell me you were leaving.”

  She crossed her arms. “No, I couldn’t, Adam. We aren’t supposed to fraternize with the patients, and I wouldn’t risk my job. I was going to call you later and see how you were, though.”

  My fingers itched to touch her cheek. I wanted to know if her blush warmed her skin. Her words, however, grabbed my attention.

  “You were going to call me?” I asked, surprised. “How’d you get my number?”

  “Off your file,” she admitted.

  “I was gonna give it to you. And ask for yours,” I murmured, and gave in to the feeling, cupping one of her cheeks as I stroked it with my thumb. Her skin was incredible—silky, smooth, and yes, so very warm.

  She didn’t back away from my caress. Our eyes met and held. So many emotions were in her wide, expressive gaze that looked more green than blue in the dim light. There were shadows of exhaustion under them, and the sudden need to care for her hit me. I blinked at the sensation—I had never once in my life experienced anything like it. I stepped back, my sudden movement making me dizzy, and I leaned back into the wall for support.

  “You need to go home, Adam. You should have stayed until they released you,” she admonished.

  “Yeah, this head thing is messing me up.” I huffed in frustration, unused to feeling so weak. “I need to grab a cab.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “Yeah? You sure?”

  “You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

  I arched my eyebrow. “As if I’d admit that when you were falling into my trap so easily?”

  She grinned, her dimples deep. “Well, 6B drove me crazy all night, maybe you could take out your homicidal tendencies on them instead.”