Conflagration

by Tessa Teevan

  After what feels like an agonizingly slow trip through the hospital, she finally wheels me into the Intensive Care Unit, stopping after we enter the visiting room. She places a reassuring hand on my arm.

  “I’m going to check in real quick with the nurses’ station and let them know who you are and that we’re going to peek in on your fiancé for a little bit.”

  I nod, the guilt weighing on me every time she brings up my lie. It’s not until she wheels me into his room that it goes away and I’m no longer ashamed of what I’ve done. Because seeing him there, lying unconscious, hooked up to various machines, causes me to gasp, a lone tear spilling out over my eyelid and falling slowly down my cheek. Now that I’m here, I know I won’t leave his side willingly, no matter how much pretending I have to do.

  Nurse Singleton squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll leave you two alone for a little while. You need anything, just press his nurses’ call button.”

  I nod, whispering my appreciation, but she’s gone before I know if she heard me or not. As I wheel closer, I see that his head bandage nearly mirrors mine, but it’s twice as thick. His lip is split open, dried blood already scabbing over. Bruises mar his usually beautiful face, and when I get to his bedside, I can’t help but lift the blanket to see a thick cast on his right leg. His left arm is wrapped with bandages, and if I could look under his gown, I’m sure I’d see the cuts from the glass.

  Hot tears pool in my eyes as I realize just how much he risked when he saved my life.

  Taking hold of his hand, I feel relief at the warmth of it. I guess I was expecting it to feel cold, lifeless, but it’s not, and something about that fact sends a jolt of reassurance through me. I let my thumb rub over his hand, mentally pleading with him to wake up, as if somehow my brain could telepathically reach his, but it’s no use.

  Minutes—hell, it could be hours—pass with no movement from him. Not even a minor twitch or tremor from his fingers that are enclosed in my hand. The only signs of life from him are the constant beeping from the monitor and the faint sounds of his breathing. Leaning in close, I allow my lips to hover over his ear, begging him, willing him, to please wake up. But he doesn’t.

  Sitting back in my wheelchair, I take my time to study this man. Even with his bruises and bandages, I see how beautiful he really is. With a strong jaw and chiseled features, he’s all male and downright sexy. Something warm stirs inside me, and I push the thoughts away, feeling foolish and a bit disrespectful for thinking of him this way with the current position he’s in. But I can’t help myself, and I lean forward, allowing my fingertips to gingerly graze the outline of his jaw before moving down to trace his lips—cautious not to touch the cut there.

  My gaze lifts to his closed eyes, where his long lashes are dark and thick, and I remember the first time I looked into those haunted eyes. Even more, I shudder when I remember the last, just hours ago. Eyes so expressive that they’re unnerving. The emotions that filled him were unmistakable no matter how hard he tried to mask them. Pain. Anguish. Panic. Determination. Vulnerability. Definitely vulnerability.

  As I watch him lying motionless in the cold hospital bed, the night we first met—the only time we’ve met—starts to replay in my mind and I wonder how in the hell we’ve crossed paths again.

  And just who exactly is this broken man who saved my life?

  I know it’s only a matter of time before the nurse returns to collect me, so I give it a try one last time, asking him to wake up. Reminding him that he saved my life. And wishing I could do the same thing in return. He doesn’t answer me though, and after a few moments of holding my breath as I wait for a response, I place my hand in his again and rest my head on the bed beside him, hoping that, when he does some wake up, I’ll still be here. So he’ll know he’s not alone.

  THE PAIN medication must’ve kicked in quickly because the last thing I remember is falling asleep next to Branson’s bed, and although I normally don’t dream, I saw that night that we met vividly.

  Let’s be honest. I haven’t forgotten that night, and deep down, I hope that, when Branson wakes up, he hasn’t either. It might be foolish, but it feels like there’s a reason he was on the road tonight. Like it wasn’t pure coincidence but something more powerful at play. Or perhaps that’s just the wishful thinking of a dreaming woman.

  I’m slowing coming to, slightly confused at first as to where I am. As I open one eye and then the other, I find myself staring up at bright, fluorescent lights, the sounds of familiar beeping filling the room. Looking around, I realize that I’m no longer in Branson’s room—I’m back in mine. Sometime during the night, the nurses must’ve seen me in that uncomfortable position and moved me back to my room. Even though I wanted to stay in by his side, my body still feels like it’s been hit by a truck, and I’m grateful for their care. I can’t imagine that sleeping hunched over like that would be good for my stitched-up torso.

  “Good morning, Ms. Covington,” a cheerful voice says as someone enters my room. I turn to see a young, energetic nurse moving closer to my bedside. “And how are you feeling today?”

  “I still feel like I was hit by a truck, but maybe a pickup instead of a semi,” I tell her, trying to muster up as big of a smile as I can, which she returns warmly. “And please drop the Ms. Covington. It’s Ari.”

  We make small talk while she checks my vitals, declaring that everything looks good and I should be able to leave the hospital within a week after I recover from surgery. It should make me happy, but instead, anxiety sets in at the thought. Then she brings up my fiancé, and I suddenly realize what today is. Or, well, what it should be. My wedding day. The one I ran from. And somehow ended up in a Nashville hospital, engaged but to an entirely different man.

  What a freaking mess, Ari.

  And even though it’s true—it is a mess—it’s one I don’t regret. Because being able to see him last night, to see that he was alive with my own two eyes? That was worth any lie. Getting caught isn’t what worries me. It’s what I’m supposed to do when I leave this place that’s freaking me out. When I left Benjamin in Atlanta and drove north, I had no idea where I was going. Getting away from there was all that mattered. This unexpected detour wasn’t in the plans, but I guess I have at least a few days to figure out where I’m going.

  “Can I see him?” I ask the nurse who introduced herself as Kim.

  When she finishes checking my blood pressure, she gives me a sweet smile with a wink. “I think that can be arranged. You two were the talk of shift change this morning, and I think the girls would box my ears in if I kept you away from your fiancé. Oh, and speaking of your man. You’ll be happy to know he woke up for a little while early this morning. Between you and me, the rumor mill says the first thing he did was ask about you.”

  My heart flutters nervously, and I try to push the anxiety away. Of course he’d ask about me. Well, probably not me specifically, but the girl from the car, the girl in his arms. He’d been so intent on saving me, as if he hadn’t had any regard for his own life, so it makes sense that he’d ask for me first. But still, the thought is heartwarming, and I’m thrilled to know he’s finally conscious.

  Clearing my throat, I try to return her smile. “Umm, that’s good to hear. If we’re done here, I’d really love to get to his room. Now that he’s awake, he’ll be wanting to see for himself that I’m okay. My guy… Well, he’s not exactly the patient type,” I tell her, the lie rolling off my tongue with surprising ease.

  She grins again and signals for me to hold on for just one second. Looking around the room and at the IV I’m hooked up to, I know I’m not going anywhere. Her absence is brief, and when she returns to the room, she’s carrying a small, brown bag.

  I’m puzzled, and she must be able to read my expression because she laughs as she hands the bag over. “We thought you might want to freshen up a bit. Without you having family close by, and with your fiancé in the hospital, we didn’t know if you’d have anyone to bring you supplies.”


  Looking into the bag, I’m grateful, and tears well up in my eyes at their thoughtfulness. Inside, there’s a toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, deodorant, and other hygiene essentials I haven’t even thought of needing. Hell, I haven’t taken the time to worry about how I must look.

  “Thank you,” I tell her with tear-filled eyes, and she returns my smile.

  “No problem, honey,” she says, patting my thigh. “Last I heard, they were moving him out of the ICU, so while they’re getting him settled, why don’t you freshen up a little bit, and then we’ll see about getting you to your fiancé. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds perfect,” I respond, meaning it more than I should, getting more and more used to the title the more she calls him mine.

  IT’S AMAZING the wonders a fresh mouth and brushed hair can do for the soul. As much as I wanted to take a shower, I was relegated to staring at it longingly instead of hopping in. With my bandages and stitches, I didn’t want to risk getting anything wet, and I didn’t want to prolong seeing Branson by asking the nurse for help. So I did as much as I could with the face wash and soap, and even though it wasn’t perfect, it was better than nothing. I gingerly ran the brush through my hair, only being able to get the bottom half thanks to the bandages. But again, it could be worse.

  Even better, when I rummaged around in my purse, I found lip balm and nearly sighed in relief when I rubbed it over my dry, chapped lips. When Kim returned, I felt like a new person, and the smile on her face either was the product of a truly great bedside manner or meant that she thought I looked better, too.

  “Mr. Wellington’s been moved and he’s resting comfortably in his new room. The doctor okayed you to go visit, but he’ll likely be in and out of it for a while. He just had a new dosage of pain medication. Ready?” she asks.

  I nod enthusiastically, which causes a sharp pain in my forehead. Grimacing, I bring my hand to my head, and she pauses.

  “Are you sure, Ariana? If you’re in pain, we can wait.”

  “No, no,” I protest a little too quickly. “In my excitement, I forgot all about the gash on the head and nodded too fast. I’m fine. It’s passed,” I insist before get up from the bed to cross to the wheelchair.

  Sitting down, I look up at her expectantly. She’s watching me curiously, and I plaster on a smile, letting her know that I’m fine.

  “Okay, but if you start to feel pain or feverish, you’ll need to notify someone as soon as possible. Got it?”

  I give her a mock salute and nod, this time slowly. There’s a trace of dull pain there, but it’s manageable. “I’ve got it. Any pain, I’ll inform you first.” Fat chance. I plan on staying in his room as long as I can. When I realize this, I ask Kim to grab my purse for me, knowing I have my latest book obsession inside and it can help pass the time.

  We don’t have to go far to get to Branson’s new room. I don’t know if they’ve done this on purpose, but he’s only three rooms down from mine, and I make a mental note of the room number so I can come back later if need be. I’m not sure how long they’ll let me stay with him, but I’m grateful to know he’s so close.

  When we enter the room, the sight of Branson catches my breath. I don’t know what I was expecting. The clock on the wall indicates that it’s only been ten hours or so since I last saw him, but he still looks the same. There seems to be a little more color in his face, yet that might just be wishful thinking on my part.

  Kim parks me right beside his bed then excuses herself. Looking around, I realize that Branson and I are alone, and I have to wonder where his family is. I know he was convinced that they wanted nothing to do with him, but Jesus, he was in an explosion. Wouldn’t they want to be here?

  I take hold of his hand, wanting—needing—to feel his warmth against my bare skin. Leaning forward, I whisper to him again, this time telling him to sleep as long as he needs to. I’ll be here when he wakes up. No matter how long it takes. Just knowing that he’s woken up before reassures me that he’s going to be okay.

  As time ticks away, the silence in the room becomes deafening. Normally, continuous beeping sounds would annoy the hell out of me, but not this time. No, each beep signifies the beating of Branson’s heart, and as long as it stays strong and steady, it’s a sound I’d listen to for the rest of my life if I could. The thought crosses my mind just as I catch a glance of my ring, and I smile in spite of myself. Sure, it may be Benjamin’s ring, but right now, no one knows that. As I study it, I’m suddenly aware that I should’ve figured it out all those months ago. What he wanted. Not whom but what. His perfect little trophy wife.

  His words echo in my brain, the words that were the final nail in the coffin. Yet, funny enough, they weren’t the first time I’d heard them. The memory of a drunken, slurring Branson grabbing hold of my hand to study the gaudy and ostentatious ring with disgust as he compared it to that of his ex-wife’s. The night he told me, a complete stranger, that I was setting out to make the biggest mistake of my life. He had taken one look at that ring and known exactly what Benjamin wanted.

  Shaking my head, I try to erase the memory, not wanting to think about Benjamin, the wedding, or even that night I met Branson. I pull my paperback out of my purse and settle into my wheelchair, only letting my hand leave Branson’s to turn the page. I’m completely enthralled in this romantic suspense novel when I hear commotion just outside the room.

  “He’s resting at the moment, thanks to the pain medication. I’ll see if I can fetch the doctor so he can apprise you of your son’s condition. In the meantime, his fiancée’s in there right now and I’m sure she’d love to have family with her. You can go in now,” a familiar voice—Kim’s, I think—says.

  Oh shit.

  “His what?!” I hear an incredulous female voice ask.

  Oh shit.

  Before I can react, a whole slew of people enter the room, filing in one after the other. Three sets of couples, it looks like. Like a scene out of While You Were Sleeping, six pairs of shocked eyes look from Branson to me and then to my hand holding his. My left hand. The hand that’s sporting a huge rock on my ring finger.

  Oh shit.

  “Oh my God. Are you okay?” a pretty brunette asks as she rushes over to me, breaking the silence.

  She’s asking me if I’m okay when Branson’s the one lying in bed with much more serious injuries? What the hell?

  “Umm... yes, for the most part. Just a bit banged up, but nothing too serious,” I answer, my voice still sounding a little hoarse. “Thanks to him, of course. Umm…I’m Ari, by the way,” I tell her, figuring I might as well introduce myself since Kim already broke the joyous news to them.

  She gives me a warm smile then looks back at the others, who are watching us curiously. “Wow. Well, this is certainly one hell of a way to meet the family,” she says, and I have to agree. If, you know, there were actually a reason for me to meet the family. “We came as soon as we heard. We’d have been here sooner, but we were moving Cohen to Memphis and didn’t get word until a couple of hours ago. I’m Charlie, Branson’s soon-to-be sister-in-law. That one, the one with the perpetual scowl, Knox, is mine. Cohen, the youngest brother, and his girlfriend, Andi. And Knox and Amelia, Branson’s parents.”

  As she makes the introductions, I realize that his whole family is here—the brother he swore hated him, the parents he let down, and the little brother he hoped would grow up to be anything but like him. It’s slightly shocking, because he made it seem like he was completely on the outs with his family, that they wanted nothing to do with him. Yet they’re all here. And I see genuine concern etched on each of their faces.

  Swallowing hard, I nod towards them, feeling awkward and guiltier than ever. With one last look at Branson, I squeeze his fingers and then remove my hand. Turning my wheelchair towards the door, I’m more than ready to make a quick exit. With one last smile, I try to escape. “It was nice to meet you all. I’ll let you have some time with him. I’m sure the doctor will be in soon to answer any q
uestions you have. They didn’t really give me all the details of his injuries. But they did say he woke up earlier, so that’s a good sign.” The room remains silent, and I take that as my cue to hightail it out of here. “Okay, I’m sure I’ll see y’all later.”

  Before I can leave the room, however, Charlie steps in front of my chair, stopping me in my tracks. She bends down until we’re eye level, and I have to fight the urge to look away. Her gaze is unnerving, and for a split second, I wonder if she can read through my lies.

  “Ari, stay. Until Branson wakes back up, there’s nothing for any of us to do. So we might as well get to know the woman he’s engaged to. Especially since he’s kept you such a well-hidden secret,” she says, her eyebrows cocked with piqued interest.

  I now remember when he told me about this woman. His brother’s perfect match, strong-willed and stubborn. His lamentations were that he’d never find a love like that. Even more so that he’d never deserve a love like theirs.

  The older woman, Branson’s mother, steps forward and extends her hand, which I willingly take. “Yes. Please stay,” she insists, and I’m surprised when I see tears welling in her eyes. “I haven’t seen my son smile in a very long time, but if you’ve managed to make him happy, then by all means, I want to get to know my Branson’s fiancée.”

  Before I can answer her, I hear a throat clear, and a scratchy voice breaks the silence of the room. “My what?” he croaks out, and I whip around, both ecstatic that he’s awake yet horrified that he just overheard what his mother said.

  Amelia drops my hand and rushes to the hospital bed, where Branson is now fully awake, his eyes firmly planted on mine even though his mother is hovering over him. Unable to hold his scrutinizing gaze, my eyes fall to my lap for a split second before looking back up at him.