by Kyra Whitton
“Well, tell me what happened.”
“I got home, she took the keys, and that was that. She didn’t even ask if I wanted to come.” Evie wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I wanted to watch the smut, too,” she muttered to herself.
Alec chuckled. “No, I meant how you got here. What happened?”
“Oh!” she smacked herself in the forehead, but then wished she hadn’t. The pain reverberated off the backs of her eyes and she sucked in a breath.
“Sorry. I, uh, I slipped in the commissary. I ran right over the stupid sign they placed over a wet spot to warn idiots like me, and, you know, feet in the air, head on the concrete.” She clapped her hands together. “Pow.”
“And did you lose consciousness?”
Ah. She deflated. It was all business, now.
“Yes.”
He made a sort of humming noise in the back of his throat, and then straightened. “Protocol is to order a head CT, and considering your history, that’s exactly what we’re going to do. I’ll order it, and then someone will be in to wheel you to radiology in a few minutes. Anything else bothering you?”
She smirked. “Just my pride.”
His lips tightened, but they jerked upward, and he reached for the door, sliding it open and disappearing down the corridor. Evie suddenly felt a little abandoned.
She didn’t know how long she waited for someone to come retrieve her for the head scan, but it didn’t seem like much time at all. She only had a few moments to replay the last five minutes in her head, mentally wincing at her own awkwardness.
A stout woman pushed the sliding door all the way open, smiling politely and announcing she would be the one taking Evie to radiology. She spun a wheelchair into the small space, and then held out her hands to help Evie sit down, adjusting the footrests as soon as Evie was situated.
Evie clasped her temples between her hands. Sitting up caused a near-vomit-inducing spinning to join the ache squeezing her battered skull.
The scans were over quickly, and they were done in a dim room, which she appreciated more than she could express. As she was wheeled back into her little slice of the emergency room, she regretted the whole thing hadn’t taken longer because, sitting in the chair next to the bed, was her mother.
“I thought you were going home.” Evie’s eyes narrowed.
“Only to put away the groceries.” Laena folded her book shut and uncrossed her legs. “You were brought here in an ambulance. You really thought I would just go home, watch a soap opera, and wait for you to call for a ride?”
“Well, I would never accuse you of watching soap operas, but yeah,” Evie answered. “I’m fine. There is no reason for you to be here. I could probably walk back. It’s only what? A mile?”
“Really, Evelyn, this is ridiculous even for you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Evie demanded.
“It means you’re acting ridiculous.”
Evie leaned her head back on the pillow and groaned. This really couldn’t be happening.
As if on cue—because, obviously her life was some sort of sick comedy—Alec came back through the door, stopping short when he caught sight of Laena. He blinked a couple of times before offering her his hand.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Carlisle,” he murmured as Laena slipped her hand in his.
Carlisle. Interesting, Evie thought. They had never gotten around to the whole full names thing. She supposed he was privy to hers since it was written all over his fancy little computer screen. At least now they were on equal footing
“Laena Blair,” her mother answered politely.
Alec turned his attention back to Evie. “Is it all right to…” His gaze flicked to her mother briefly before turning back to her.
She knew what he was asking, and though she would love to see her mother’s face if he told her she needed to leave, she just couldn’t do it. Evie nodded, instead.
“Great. We’re still waiting for the results, but they should be done in a few minutes. I just wanted to keep you updated. They brought you something for the pain?”
She shook her head.
“I’ll order it and a prescription for you to take home. You’ll be able to pick it up in the pharmacy on your way out.”
“Does that mean you aren’t going to keep her?” Laena asked.
He turned his attention back to the older woman. “We’ll need to see the results of the CT first, but as long as everything is clear there, no, you’ll be able to take her home.”
Evie sighed away her disappointment.
She was alone when he returned. It was easy to persuade her mother to go pick up the prescription at the pharmacy while she waited for the discharge papers, and once Laena left the glass-enclosed cubicle, Evie hopped off the thin mattress. Avoiding hospital beds was her long-term goal in life, and she carefully folded herself into the arm chair Laena previously occupied.
Alec found her with her legs curled up on the fake leather seat and feet tucked under her knees. The space between his brows was creased thoughtfully as he stared down at a print out, and Evie instantly went on alert. She sat up straighter and dropped her feet to the floor as she prepared for bad news.
“You said you were in a coma.”
Her brows shot up toward her hairline. “That’s right. For three and a half months.”
She failed to be more specific: three months, thirteen days, thirteen hours, and three minutes. She had always found threes fascinating, and thirteen more so, and those would forever be burned into her brain.
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “I pulled up your medical records.” His gaze remained glued on the paper. Was he avoiding looking at her?
“Okay.”
She swallowed. Was he looking for more information? Something was behind his interest and clearly and it had nothing to do with her lovable sense of humor and roguish good looks.
“There seems to be quite a bit of information missing. If your condition today had been any worse, I—well, anyone here—would need that information to best treat you.”
Evie frowned. “I don’t know what could possibly be missing. All of my records were sent here when my parents had me transferred. My mother even hand-carried hard copies.”
He flipped the paper over quickly before turning it back over. “Not one of the scans shows any sort of traumatic brain injury. There is no information about your rating on the Glasgow scale. Your arm injury, broken femur, burns, those are all well-recorded, but the head injury…”
“Are you telling me I wasn’t in a coma all that time?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“No, that isn’t what I’m saying at all.”
He hesitated. There was something in his tone. Something she couldn’t place.
“I’m asking you if they ever gave you a reason why. There’s no explanation here. Nothing.”
“And I take it you believe that means something?” She folded her arms over her chest and squirmed as his gaze finally met hers. They stared at each other as the seconds ticked away, neither blinking.
“I think that means you are in danger, Evelyn,” he murmured. His expression darkened, his mouth falling into a grim line and his eyes hooding beneath slashing brows.
A chill shimmied down her spine and she tightened her hold on herself. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She was suddenly aware of how much larger he was than she. How much stronger. And he stood between her and the only escape route.
“What… what do you mean?”
“Be careful who you trust.”
His guarded expression lightened instantly, and his lips turned up into a pleasant smile. Had she imagined the darkness radiating from him but a moment before?
“If any of these symptoms appear, you need to come back immediately.” He handed her copies of her discharge papers, and in a few steps, was gone.
Evie swallowed, fell back in the chair, and crumpled the stack of papers in her hand.
Chapter Six
“Evie.”
She glanced over her shoulder and blinked twice when she recognized the long face standing beside her. “Iain, right?”
“Good memory.” He shifted his weight to one foot.
“Here, why don’t you sit?” She indicated the leather armchair next to her.
She originally went to the Exchange in search of shampoo. But that expedition didn’t take as long as she expected. With nothing else to do with her afternoon, she stopped for a coffee in the café outside the food court and nestled down into a large armchair with a book.
As Iain settled onto the other chair, she shoved her receipt in-between the pages of the paperback and dropped it into her lap.
Iain relaxed against the back and crossed his feet at the ankles in front of him. “We missed you the other night.”
Evie winced. “Yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to go, but I tried to give myself a concussion, instead. I ended up on the sofa popping ibuprofen and watching a movie.”
“You might have ended up having the better night.”
She blinked. Did Iain just crack a joke? After their encounter last week, she hadn’t been sure he knew how.
“Is your head okay?” he asked, pointing to his own temple.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” She waved it off. “I just had a killer headache for a couple of days. At least if I had been drunk, I would have gotten to have some fun first.”
A fleeting smile pulled at his cheeks. “Any chance you’ll be coming this week?”
She canted her head. Well, he certainly got straight to the point, didn’t he? “I-I don’t know. I haven’t really heard from Evan, so I don’t know if I’m invited…”
“Consider this me inviting you.”
Evie stared at him. Was he asking her out? Or was he just being polite? She would have gone with the latter if it hadn’t been for the way he was looking at her: intently, but without nervousness. Only expectation. It was seductive.
She couldn’t help herself. “Are you asking me out?” she asked cheekily. And then to save a little face, she quickly added, “Or are you just trying to be nice?”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched to one side. “Um. A little of both?”
“Huh. Oh, well, thanks.” She brightened up instantly. “I’ll be there.” She lifted her shoulders up and smiled, an anxious flutter settling into her belly.
“Great,” he said and stood up.
“Are you going already?” She tried not to pout and failed.
“Yeah, I was just getting lunch with some buddies.” He motioned to a couple of guys standing at the counter, inserting straws into their frozen coffee drinks.
Only then did she realize he was in his own uniform, tanned boots scuffed around the toes, and patrol cap folded in one hand. Her gaze swung to his name tape. “Hier” in black block letters. Iain Hier. It sounded ridiculously made-up.
“Oh, okay,” she said. “Well, I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”
“I look forward to it.” He held up a hand and turned away, following the other two men out the doors.
Evie stared after them until they disappeared completely from view and then stared down at her book. There was no getting back into it, now. She dropped it into her bag and collected her coffee cup as she stood.
The heat from the summer sun smacked her like a wall as she stepped outside. The humidity was thick and heavy, the wet air clinging to her skin. It quickly formed a sheen of perspiration. When she opened the driver’s door to her mother’s sedan, a blast of even hotter air greeted her like the belching of an oven, and she leaned in, turning on the car without baking herself in the process. After hitting the fan until it was on full blast, she plunked herself down on the seat and waited for the car to cool enough she could shut the door.
The blast ruffled a sheaf of papers stuffed between the center console and passenger side seat, rattling them like a playing card on the spokes of a bike. Evie extracted the packet, immediately recognizing the sterile block print of her discharge papers. She’d never looked at them.
Her first instinct was to ball them up and toss them out, but her fingers brushed against a raised spot on the outside sheet. She turned it over, catching sight of a black ink bleed. The third and final piece was mostly blank, only the contact information for the hospital printed across the top.
But beneath it, in an oddly ornate scrawl were the words…
Beware the crows.
Chapter Seven
The moon already hung beside the stars by the time Evie pulled the car into a spot outside the bar. Only half of the back parking lot was full, but summer was in full swing. St Andrews was the same way during the warmer months. Quiet. Empty. Students all gone home on holiday, only research assistants and professors keeping odd hours. She slung her brown leather bag over one shoulder, pushed the car door closed, and skirted the front bumper to step onto the well-lit sidewalk.
She rounded the corner and turned toward the glass doors of the bar.
“Over here!”
Evie dropped her hand and turned quickly, nearly losing her balance. She scanned the other side of the street and found Iain leaning against the stucco of another small building, face cast in shadow and lanky legs crossed at the ankle. He straightened and held up a hand.
She scanned the street in both directions and crossed between parked cars.
He joined her, his hands shoved in his pockets and his chin pointed toward his chest. “We’re over here, tonight.”
She took in the building’s face, the harp beside the logo. “Great.” He looked like he wanted to say more, his head slightly canted to the side. Instead, he leaned away, allowing her to move past him, only coming close as he reached around her to pull open the door.
Inside was a reproduction of places she frequented in Scotland. Exposed wood beams, cream colored walls, and a dark, smoky interior. The bar was long and thick, tables peppered around the exterior mismatched, the chairs and stools in varying shapes and designs.
It was exactly the kind of place she preferred, casual, shadowed, a bit mysterious with a hint of history. But Calum liked the posher establishments, taking her to the haunts of golfers and wealthy tourists. Those places were always sleek and modern with glass-topped tables, vibrantly colored stools, and mirrors. So many mirrors.
Was this the first time since the accident she thought of him without tears? She smiled softly to herself and breathed in, the air heavy with hot fish and chips, beer, and smoke. Even if he didn’t prefer it, the atmosphere reminded her of him.
A hand brushed her shoulder blade, and she turned toward Iain.
“The others are back there,” he murmured close to her ear, his breath warm as it ruffled her hair.
A shiver ran up her spine, and she followed him into a small alcove. She recognized the others seated along the long tables. They shoved in closer to each other to make room for the two of them, and she slid down the back bench shoved into a corner.
Iain took the seat beside her, his denim-clad leg pressed against the thin fabric of her green dress. His heat seeped through the layers between them, and she gulped. He was so close she could smell the laundry detergent still clinging to his shirt, the spice of his cologne, and a sweet hint of smoke.
“I hope it’s all right that Iain invited me,” she said to no one in particular.
Those that could hear made noises of welcome, and the young female lieutenant next to her, Mandy, wrapped an arm around Evie’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze.
“Any time!” she said with a grin that belied one too many drinks.
Evie blushed and sat back in the booth, the tension she held in her shoulders dissipating.
A young blond with a black apron slung low over her hips approached, a pitcher of beer in each hand. She slid them onto the scarred table in front of Iain, catching his gaze. “I’ll bring some more glasses,” she yelled over the music.
Evie dutifully passed one of the pitchers into Mandy’s eager hands.
“Where’s Eva
n?” she asked Iain.
She hadn’t heard from him since before her trip to the emergency room, but expected him to be there with his coworkers. But his bald head and bulging arms were absent.
“Why?”
Evie screwed her mouth to one side. “He isn’t here.”
Iain’s expression remained bland. “Were you planning to exact your revenge tonight? Or have you realized that your dislike of the boy is actually lust?”
“Boy?” She raised an eyebrow. “He’s what? Three, four years younger than you?”
“Young man, then. If you prefer.”
“Oh, I don’t care one way or the other. I merely find it amusing that you see yourself as being so much older. Looking into retirement already? Got your eye on that social security?”
He gave her a withering look.
“I’m just wondering where he is. No need to get jealous.”
“Jealous?”
She grinned but didn’t have time to say anymore. The waitress returned and plunked two stacks of chilled glasses on the table. Evie took two before passing the rest to the other end of the table. She caught the pitcher before it could disappear with them, pouring beer into both glasses and passing one to Iain. She then settled back, cradling hers in both hands.
“Questioning my feelings for Evan?”
She took a sip and scrunched up her nose as the bitter hops bubbled over her tongue. She should have known better; she’d never found light beer particularly appealing. Resisting the urge to rub her tongue on a paper napkin, she set the glass down and shoved it away from the edge of the table. “Classic sign of jealousy.”
Iain gave a short huff of a laugh and brought his own beer to his lips, drinking heavily and then sucking in his lips as he swallowed. He leaned forward, placing his left forearm on the table and turning himself slightly toward her on the bench.
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.” She considered taking another sip of the beer, but then thought better of it. Instead, she spun the glass in her hand, condensation heavy on her fingertips. “But don’t worry, you have no reason to be jealous,” she whispered conspiratorially, the corners of her mouth quirking.