“He’s awake!” The room was filling up with people all standing around wearing scrubs and gawking at me as though I was a circus act. And talking. The room was buzzing with annoying chatter.
The wiry woman put herself a few inches from my face. “Mr. Bennett, I’m Dr. Schroeder. We’re going to get you scheduled for rehabilitative services—occupational therapy, physical therapy, speech therapy…we’ll get you all set up, son.”
A few more people came rushing into the room and I was overwhelmed with the feeling of being in a fish bowl. I clung to the doctor’s shoulder, digging my fingers in. She winced, but leaned in closer to my mouth to hear my growl. “Too…f-fucking…much.”
She held my gaze. “Everybody, out. Now!”
It was clear by the tone of her voice that she meant business, and the spectators filed out quickly. All but a heavyset nurse who remained and crossed her arms over her chest when the doctor glanced questioningly at her.
“I have been this man’s caregiver for six months. I’m emotionally invested. He and I are practically family. I’ve seen parts of him that even his momma hasn’t seen. I’m not leaving.”
I was only mildly horrified.
“Well, I don’t suppose I can argue with that. Come on, help me get him to lie down, Camille.”
I narrowed my eyes at the doctor. “I don’t need to lie down.”
She watched me and shook her head. “You’ve been in a coma for six months, son. Your body’s weak, your muscles are atrophied.”
“I heal fast.” I looked towards the door, my mind replaying the kiss with my mate. So many things in my brain seemed foggy. I was terrified the memory of her might slip away. “Why am I here? What happened?”
“Maybe we should wait for Dr. Morgan to arrive before we get into that.”
“Who? I thought you were the doctor.”
“Dr. Morgan is a psychiatrist. We need to assess your mental state as well as your physical state before we can formulate a rehabilitation plan.”
Shaking my head, I stood up and stretched. It was only when they both averted their eyes that I realized my bare ass was catching a breeze. I was wearing nothing more than a thin handkerchief-like thing that didn’t even have enough material to cover my ass. I grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around my waist. “I feel fine. Better every second. I just don’t remember how I got here. What happened to me? It’s a blank.”
I knew the beautiful woman who’d run away was my mate, but I couldn’t remember anything else about her. How had we met? I couldn’t remember back that far. Her voice—I remembered that. I remembered her beside me, talking to me. It must have been at my bedside. She was what had kept me going, her soft, clear, lovely voice—reading stories, talking. Her voice had been like a beacon for me to cling to. Now, I knew what her face looked like. Beautiful. She had a beautiful face and soft lips. Incredible lips.
Six months, holy hell!
The nurse stepped up to me. “Let’s get this tube out of you while Dr. Schroeder explains a few things.”
I sat back down and flinched as she slowly pulled a tube out of my nose. The sensation made me want to gag, but I tried to focus on the doctor and what she was saying.
“It’s normal after a traumatic head injury such as yours, to have some memory loss. Your memory may even be spotty. Chances are, it will all come back eventually. Don’t try to force the memories, son. Your brain will work it out in its own time. Just let it happen.”
I shook my head. “Injury? I just…don’t remember.”
“That’s normal. It might even be a good thing. You might not want the memory of your accident to return. The associated trauma could be significant.”
Frustrated, I looked toward the door again. I wanted my mate back. Again, I wondered why she had left and not returned. “Where did she go?”
The nurse wiped under my nose, earning a grunt from me. She patted my cheek. “You mean Nurse Richardson? She doesn’t work in this ward.”
I gripped my throbbing head and growled. “Richardson?”
“Arden Richardson. Such a sweet woman. It figures that you’d wake up when she was in the room with you. She spent a lot of time with you while you were out cold.” Camille grinned at me. “She’s one of the good ones. The kind of woman any man would be lucky to have on his arm, if you know what I mean.”
“Camille.” Dr. Schroeder all but wagged her finger at the nurse. “This isn’t a dating game.”
Arden Richardson. My mate. She was a good one. She was everything. I just had to find her and try to remember where and how we met—our history. I had her scent running through my mind, so finding her wouldn’t be hard. I was a shifter, after all. I shouldn’t have any trouble finding and following her scent trail. And the way her scent affected me …
“Whoa. Your heart rate just spiked.” Dr. Schroeder started poking and prodding me, checking me over.
Camille winked. “Maybe it is a dating game.” When the doctor scowled at her, she held her hands up in surrender. “That’s all I’m saying.”
* * *
I wasn’t about to spend one more night in a goddamned hospital room. The smells, the sounds, constantly being watched, it was way too much for me to take. As a tiger shifter, I was a loner anyway. Territorial. I liked privacy and my own space, which I marked and fiercely defended.
I felt fine. Fine enough to go home, anyway, despite the bullshit they were feeding me trying to get me to stay. What were they gonna do? Chase my ass down the street? I’d like to see ‘em try. There was just one problem—the piece of cloth I was wearing barely covered my ball sack.
I still had a headache. The whole situation was a headache. I hadn’t been home in six months? What about the shop? I scratched my head. Nurse Camille revealed that Arden, who’d stopped in every day, had been my only visitor. Then she informed me that I needed new friends. I didn’t need friends. She didn’t know it, but I didn’t do friends. Not my thing.
It still baffled me that my mate hadn’t come back. I didn’t know what to make of that, I only knew that I ached for her. I couldn’t remember anything else about her—except her voice and that kiss.
I was irritated and more than a little cranky when Camille came back in with a wide smile on her face to run another check on my vitals. “Perfect. They’re not going to release you—liability and all that, but there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Between you and me, they want to keep you around to poke and prod you, but now that you’re awake, with your shifter healing, you’ll be back to one hundred percent in no time at all.”
I sniffed. She wasn’t a shifter. How did she know I was?
She saw my questioning look. “I’m mated to a wolf shifter. There are a couple others here on staff besides me who keep an eye out and run interference when any of the local shifter population come through the doors, although you guys don’t need traditional human medical care very often. That accident of yours was pretty bad to knock you out for six months. You’re lucky to be alive. Although, I have to say, maybe it was fate that you ended up here.” Winking, she patted my hand. “I’m glad you finally woke up. Not a lot of people get a second chance after an accident like you had. I think you used up one of those nine lives of yours. I hope you make the most of your second chance and find yourself some better friends.”
I hesitated. “Tell me about Arden. I can’t remember. How did we meet? Have we known each other long?”
The nurse’s eyes twinkled and she leaned in closer. “I don’t think so. Not sure you knew each other at all. But she’s the kind you want in your corner, I do know that. That girl has been at your bedside every day. Loyal as the day is long, that one. She read to you. Brushed your hair.”
I let that settle into my brain. We didn’t know each other at all? I vaguely remembered, like a hazy dream. “Every day, huh? But we didn’t… I mean, we weren’t officially mated?”
“These are questions you need to ask her, but I will say this, I don’t know how coincidental it was that she
happened to be at your bedside when you came to.” She pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the trash can. “I’m not suggesting anything, but I know that Arden is single and has been for a long time.”
No, Arden wasn’t single. Arden was mine. Not a chance that I was gonna let her get away either. Wherever she was, I’d find her, and when I did... “Can you find me some goddamn clothes so I can get the hell out of here?”
“Crabby. You were nicer when you were in a coma.”
I scowled. “Pretty sure that’s a fucked up thing to say.”
Laughing, she was completely unfazed by my mood. “Fine, fine. I’ll grab a pair of scrubs.” Her eyes ran down the length of me. “Even the largest ones are gonna be snug on you, but at least your ass won’t be hanging out.”
I gave her a stony look. “Hurry. I’m barely holding onto the little patience I have.”
As soon as she returned with the snug scrubs, I was out of there. My tiger was pacing, agitated, and on the verge of fighting his way out of my skin. He’d been trapped for too long. He needed to run.
The staff tried to argue—all but Camille who just watched with an amused grin as I paid them no mind. When they realized I was ignoring both their pleadings and their threats, they then insisted on calling a taxi for me. Naw. I was a fucking tiger. A few blocks down and I would hit a mangrove forest that extended to the rear of my shop. It was where I usually shifted to let my tiger roam.
After I declined the taxi, the annoying fuckers insisted on wheeling me to the front of the hospital in a wheelchair. That was a hell no. And the end of my temper. I roared loud enough to cause a couple of the orderlies to jump straight into the air. Camille threw her head back and howled with laughter. I shot her a wink before turning and exiting through the front doors.
As soon as I cleared the couple blocks and got far enough into the mangroves, my tiger burst out of me, ripping the tight scrubs they’d given me to shreds. With a roar, we took off at a run deeper into the strip of woods.
I remembered exactly where I was going—where to run so that I wouldn’t be spotted by anyone on the island. I guessed that meant my memory wasn’t completely shot. When I reached an area with a secluded strip of beach, I ran straight into the ocean. The water felt great, and the sun was amazing.
I swam down to the southern tip of the island, but to get across to the eastern side of Sunkissed Key, I had to cross the main highway that connected the rest of the keys. Fortunately, it was getting dark and I was able to cross without notice. At the very end of the island, right at the tip, facing Main Street was my shop, Island Auto.
When I shifted back, I was naked, but this being my usual shifting haunt, I kept a few changes of clothes in an unlocked lean-to out back. Good news, they were still there. I threw on jeans and a T-shirt, both roomier than they used to be, and inspected the perimeter of my building.
The shop had a closed sign and looked abandoned. I peeked in the window. Everything looked the same, as far as I could tell. The lights were all off in the shop, but a yellow glow came from my apartment upstairs.
I had this wild, irrational thought that it might be my mate up there waiting for me. My heart leaped in my chest and I ran up the metal stairs that were anchored to the exterior, taking them three at a time.
I twisted the doorknob so hard, the damn thing broke off in my hand. Fuck. I threw open the door and found myself face to face with a woman who wasn’t my mate.
I stared at her. She looked familiar. A faint memory tickled the back of my mind.
“Oh, Flynn! Jesus, you scared me!” She hurried across the living room and threw her arms around my neck, planting a kiss on my lips. “I’m so glad you’re home, baby!”
4
Arden
As of 5pm eastern standard time, I was still employed. The moment my shift ended, I practically ran out of the hospital and went straight home. I flew down Main Street with a lead foot and had to make myself slow down enough to safely make the turn onto Pelican Drive without the tires squealing too much. My house was the second on the right, a little one bedroom bungalow with a small stoop. I’d always loved the coziness of it, but even more so tonight. Tonight it was my sanctuary, my safe haven. Although, the one thing it wouldn’t protect me from was guilt. And I was riddled with that.
I plowed through the door and headed straight for the kitchen and the bottle of chardonnay I kept on the refrigerator door. Tonight, that bad boy was going down. Hissyfit lifted his head from where he was stretched out on the back of the couch and gave me the evil eye. I got it, honestly. I deserved it.
I poured myself a full glass of wine and drank half of it standing right there in the kitchen with my purse still hanging from my shoulder. Ahh, better. At least it calmed my nerves a bit.
After topping up my glass, I headed to the bathroom to run myself a hot bubble bath—with extra bubbles. Before the tub finished filling, my scrubs were in a pile on the floor and I was submerged and soaking as I sipped my wine. I hated the stupid, stupid, thing I’d done, and as the hot water and the wine did their thing, I tried to convince myself I wasn’t a horrible person.
Why I had kissed a helpless patient was beyond me. I was sick about it. What had come over me? Well, to be fair, Flynn Bennett wasn’t just any patient. Still, no excuses.
I couldn’t get the kiss off my mind, but I also couldn’t forget the look of confusion on his face when Flynn noticed the machines next to him. I should have stayed for a few more minutes. I shouldn’t have left him like that, but I really had no business being there. It wasn’t my place. I was just the pathetic nurse who had considered a man I didn’t know, a man who had been incapable of responding to me, a friend.
What if he was frightened? I’d just fled from him. After kissing him awake. Ugh!
Maybe my mother was right about me needing a stronger grip on reality. Maybe I did watch too many old movies and read too many romance novels. Were those even a true depiction of love?
In my mind’s eye, I pictured studio heads during Hollywood’s golden age—probably old guys who smoked cigars, sported dollar signs in their eyes, and barked orders at dashing movie stars and naive young starlets. What would they know about true love?
Maybe the romance novelists were on point. I conjured visions of ladies in frilly lace dressing gowns and pink bedroom slippers with kitten heels, pecking at their Smith-Corona typewriters while smoking cigarettes in those long holders like Audrey Hepburn had in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Oh good lord, my mother was right! I was living in a fantasy world!
And I’d kissed a patient!
Wait a second….
My face broke out in a grin. He’d kissed me back. I sat up straight, sloshing bath water over the side of the tub. He’d kissed me back! It hadn’t hit me until that moment and when it did, I was filled with a giddy, fluttery feeling—although, maybe that was the wine.
How many nights had I lain awake imagining a kiss from Flynn Bennett, knowing it would never happen? But it had! Of course, it wasn’t nearly as sexy or passionate as in my dreams, but it had still been amazing. I’d had tingles all the way to the tips of my toes. Feeling only mildly ashamed at that point, I sank back into the water and finished my glass of wine.
Hissyfit strutted into the bathroom and sat at a distance from the spilled water, mean-mugging me. Was it my imagination or was that a condescending smirk on his face? The cat hated me.
“I don’t need you judging me too, Hissyfit. I get enough of that from the high-brow Richardsons, thank you very much.”
He yawned and slunk back out of the bathroom. A few seconds later, he was howling in the kitchen, demanding his dinner. I gave up on getting any further relaxation from the bath, got out, got dressed in pajamas, and headed to the kitchen to feed him.
After popping a frozen meal in the microwave for myself, I dug my cell out of my purse. I had a missed call and voicemail—from my mother. Great. I decided I’d listen to it later, grabbed my laptop off the coffee table, and sank in
to the couch. Despite telling myself I shouldn’t, I opened Google and typed in Flynn’s name. Again.
Flynn Bennett brought up a number of links, but the first several were about the accident and his subsequent coma. I’d read them all before, but I devoured them again. My stomach wedged in my throat and I covered my mouth with my hand as I re-read the news stories of his accident. The local paper had done a couple of follow up stories about him, but after that, the links were to older articles, from over a decade prior.
There on my laptop screen were black and white images of a much younger Flynn Bennett who’d served prison time. At nineteen years old, Flynn had been charged with the illegal manufacture and distribution of moonshine. I snickered. He’d made moonshine. And sold massive amounts of it too. All before he was twenty. He’d been arrested when he’d attempted to sell a huge shipment to an undercover ATF agent. He took a plea deal, and was sentenced to two years in prison and ten thousand dollars in fines.
After that run-in with the law, he’d been arrested once more for a bar fight in Jacksonville. He’d served two months in a county jail for that one. Those two crimes had seemingly cemented his reputation as a bad boy.
I stared at one of the images, a grainy mug shot of a younger Flynn. His expression was angry, as though he was at war with the world. He wasn’t clean cut, even then. His hair was long and his face sported a full beard. Dark eyes were narrowed and he sneered at the camera. He definitely had the bad boy look down pat.
Thinking of what my mother would say if I brought a man like Flynn Bennett to Sunday dinner made me grin. Then, I smacked myself on the forehead for even allowing the thought. I had to stop with the Flynn Bennett fantasies. The man was out of my life for good now. It was time for me to drop the crazy obsession.
Chased Mate: Cybermates Page 3