Provoked (Forbidden Crush #2)

Chapter 7

7

I don’t know where they originated, but out of nowhere, the air is filled with the sound of sirens and the flash of red and blue lights reflecting off the rocks. And I’m quickly invisible. Someone asks if I’m hurt but when I say, “No, I was driving ahead,” all their attention is diverted to getting Justin out of the vehicle. First, they have to put the car back on its wheels. When there’s not even a groan from within, I’m sure he’s dead. And my heart breaks all over again. I can’t see anything because of the big bodies of the emergency crew.

So I’m almost surprised when they carefully lift him out of the car and onto a stretcher. His face is so pale. They pack him in the back of the ambulance and shut the doors with a speed and efficiency that has me blinking in renewed shock. The sirens go back on and the ambulance drives down the road towards the auto dealership. That’s when I realize I don’t even know where they’re taking him.

The fire crew remains behind. They’re aiming some kind of repellent under the smoking and bent hood. “Where are they taking him?” I call out from a safe distance, almost frantically.

“County General,” one of them calls out, not even turning to look at me.

That must be the hospital. I nod even though nobody is watching me and walk back to my car, realizing that I’m clueless about Justin’s emergency contacts or if he even has any.

I have never felt so alone in my entire life. I don’t know why they didn’t send any police out — maybe they’re busy somewhere else, but I’ll have to file a report. Someone deliberately hit Justin, almost like they were lying in wait for him, which doesn’t make sense. From what he said, nobody even knows he’s here.

Before I restart my new-to-me car, I study the map on my phone that tells me where the hospital is. Kind of. I need to watch for the turn to Harris St. If I find that, the rest looks easy enough. My body is achy with tension and impending tears. It can’t end like this. It just can’t.

I ease back onto the highway, my eyes peeled for any more parked cars, but there’s nothing. I do see a police car heading toward the accident. Their lights aren’t flashing, so I’ve no idea if that’s their destination or not. They certainly aren’t in much of a hurry. I bite my lip and continue eyeing the dusty lanes abutting the highway, looking for anything that says Harris. Ten miles past the dealership, I find it. Helpfully marked by one of those large blue and white H signs. I turn and finally see the hospital two streets over, just like the map said.

It’s a long low building. Almost like an elementary school if I’m honest, but as long as it has the necessary things like beds and doctors, I don’t really care.

The parking lot has only a smattering of vehicles, so it’s not hard to find a space. When I slide out, I’m surprised to find it hard to stand straight. My body is so tense with anxiety. I take three deep breaths and force my fingers to relax. Then my arms. A shuddery sigh escapes, and I close my eyes. I need to go find Justin. He shouldn’t be alone for this.

My brain refuses to define what this is. It doesn’t even matter right now.

When the large glass doors of the hospital automatically part as I approach them, I realize I have another problem. I’m not related to Justin. If all the TV shows are true, they won’t even be able to tell me what room he’s in. That’s when I decide to lead with the lie, even though it leaves me trembling with even more nerves.

The front desk is manned by an older couple in light blue uniforms with volunteer stitched over the pocket. The woman looks up from her computer screen with a friendly smile.

“My- my husband was brought in. In the ambulance? Where can I find him? Or…” I think my lack of words tells her more. Her expression softens even further, and she was looking like a cuddly grandma before.

“Right down the green corridor there, dear. There’s a cozy little waiting room and you tell Denise at the desk who you’re looking for.”

I thank her quietly and follow the green line painted on the walls like my life depends on it. It’s not complicated, but I still sigh with some relief when I spot the next reception desk. Her badge says Denise, so I must be in the right place.

“My husband, Justin Wilde, was in a car accident?”

Denise nods and taps on the keyboard. “He’s headed in for surgery right now. Do you happen to know his insurance?”

A wife ought to know, right? My knees shake a little, partly with relief that he’s alive enough to attempt surgery and guilt at the lie I’m still building. I tell her the name of the insurance I had in college. Justin is too much of a stick in the mud to start changing things around, so he most likely still has the same. If not, we can sort it out later.

“Do you want to wait here? You don’t have to, you know? We can give you a call as soon as he’s out of surgery. It could be several hours.”

“I’ll wait. Is there someplace private I can make a call? We have family…” Another lie, but Fred is basically family and I think I’m going to need his help.

Denise nods with an understanding smile. “I’m afraid not in the hospital itself. But if you head back that way and turn down the mauve corridor, there’s a garden patio that should be pretty empty at this time of day.”

I smile my thanks as she answers her phone. Then I do retrace my steps but continue all the way back out to the parking lot. I can’t risk this conversation being overheard, so I’ll call Fred from my car.

I’ve never had a reason to call Fred before. Until his retirement, he was always within hailing distance if I felt the need to chat. Sadly. It wasn’t his idea to be unofficial protection detail for me. Nor mine. I hit dial next to his contact listing with a hesitant finger. And gulp when his growly voice answers with, “Who the hell is this?”

“Fred? It’s — it’s Ing.”

“Ingrid?” His voice softens immediately, but it’s still stern when he continues, “What’s wrong?”

I blink back tears because he’s listening, really listening. “It’s Justin. Someone tried to kill him. And Fred… he’s in surgery now, but I told them we were married. I didn’t know what else to do!” I can feel the anxiety bubbling in my chest.

Fred’s dry cackle of disbelief ends in the cough of a long-time smoker only recently reformed. Much to his disgust, I might add. Fred did not part willingly from his cigarettes.

“Well, that’s one way to skin a cat,” he mutters cryptically. “What the hell is Justin doing there in Montana with you, and what do you mean someone tried to kill him? If it wasn’t you, that is.”

I sputter half-heartedly. I know Fred is just trying to tease me in his own gruff way. “I mean really kill, Fred.” I relay the details of the accident as I know them.

Fred is quiet for a long while. “Red hair, you say? This strange woman look anything like Margot?”

I think back and my stomach sinks. “Could be. I couldn’t really see her face. But it wasn’t not Margot,” I say slowly. “But why would she want to kill him?”

“Why does a snake bite? Look, kid, I can be there in another day or two. Hang tight, okay? And stay in that hospital. I don’t want to have to pull your body out of a ditch when I get there.”

My stomach tenses all over again. “Do you think someone was really after me?” My voice quavers because if Justin died in my place, I could never live with it.

“Don’t know. But always look at the money, kid. And from what I understand, you have a lot of it. Who gets it if you die?”

“Um. I don’t really know. Justin always tried to make me read that stuff, but what’s the point? I don’t even get to spend it until I’m thirty-five or married to someone who is. My great-grandparents set up the trust a hundred years ago.”

Fred grunts in acknowledgment. “I’ll find out. Hang in there, kid. It’s going to take more than a car accident to kill Justin’s stubborn ass.” He hangs up as I snort a laugh of relief. Fred is right. Justin is a stubborn ass and maybe just this once, that’s a good thing. I think about calling Rose for moral support, but with the baby, I don’t want to add to her stress. If I hear anything specific from the doctors and need Aiden’s medical input, I’ll call her then. She’ll want to kill me for staying silent, but right now there’s nothing she can really do.

It’s an agony of waiting. First, four hours in the alcove that passes for a waiting room in emergency and then, when a nurse finally calls my name, more waiting in a new location. “ Ms. Wilde? Your husband is out of surgery and being moved to the ICU. You can wait for him there in room 118.” She tells me what corridors to follow but disappears before I can ask more about Justin.

When I find it, the room is pleasant enough. A large window looks out over a low-maintenance garden, meaning it’s mostly grasses and a few green shrubs. The walls are a pleasant pale blue and there’s a small bathroom attached to the room. It seems like forever before the orderlies are wheeling in the bed with Justin’s still too-quiet body. The only change from the accident scene I can see is that now he has lots of tubes sticking out of him.

“Can you tell me how he is? What they had to fix?” I ask them.

“Sorry, ma’am. We’re just the grunts around here. His nurse should be in shortly and she can fill you in,” the taller of the two informs me with a kind smile.

I sink down into the one chair in the room and stare at my now pretend husband. I wouldn’t even complain if he sat up right now and yelled. Sadness fills me at the thought of never hearing him yell again. Even though that was exactly what I was devoutly wishing for, not very long ago. And here I am fake married to him, too! Another lifelong dream. Although I always wanted it to be real, of course. I stare at Justin’s still body. He’s too stubborn to die, I remind myself of Fred’s words. He has to be.

The nurse finally comes in. It feels like an hour later, but I’m sure it was only five minutes. She jots things down on the computer, checks his IV levels and only then notices me.

“Oh! I didn’t even see you there! You the missus?”

I nod, feeling renewed guilt at the lie. “Is he okay?”

Her smile is strained. Her eyes appear almost anxious when she says, “He’s stable. That in itself is progress, but I can’t give you odds or outcomes. The doctor will be by in the morning for rounds and can tell you a lot more then. I’m sure you being here will help.”

I nod, unconvinced. He’s so still. It’s not like Justin flails about normally, but he’s always sort of contained energy. So even when he’s not moving, he’s… vibrating, sort of. That energy has disappeared. And I think that’s what scares me the most.

“Can I touch him? I mean, without hurting anything?”

The nurse gives me a genuine smile. “You betcha. I’d stick to that side, where you are, and don’t tug on any of the tubes. He’s heavily sedated, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know you’re here.”

She wheels the little cart with the computer back out to the hallway. I pull my chair up closer to the bed so I can touch his right arm. I’m reassured by the warmth of it. An hour later, when absolutely everything is exactly as it was, I realize I’m going to have to find out where the cafeteria is and when it closes. And I’ll have to do something about clothes, eventually. I sigh and stand up. Might as well take care of food now.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes or so, Justin.” I dare to drop a soft kiss on his cheek. For the first time, he doesn’t flinch when I touch him. I roll my eyes at the irony and drag myself out of the room with a sad smile.

I find the cafeteria easy enough. It’s not big, but the food is surprisingly good based on the smells and the prices are beyond reasonable. I settle on a mushroom hamburger and let myself indulge in the thick cut fries. This is an emergency, so the calories don’t count. Plus, I need as much comfort as I can find. I add a few snacks to my tray for later in case I get hungry during the night and sit down at a little table in the corner to eat. Apparently I was more hungry than I realized because it all disappears so fast. That’s when I remember all the groceries in the back of Justin’s car. They must be ruined. There’s nothing I can do about it now and I wouldn’t have made that my priority, anyway. But it seems such a waste. And my bank account isn’t so fat that I can afford to do that again in the near future.

The hospital gift shop is conveniently adjacent to the cafeteria. It’s barely more than a closet, but they manage to fit an astonishing amount of do-dads in that space. There’s all the happy things like balloons and teddy bears for the new babies and then the stuff for people waiting like me. A small display of paperbacks catches my attention and my eyes zero in on the book I’m reading, that of course isn’t with me. Do I dare?

I decide it’s worth the handful of dollars to have a second copy when I need it most. I take it and a small comb up to the register. “I don’t suppose you have anything that would suffice as a change of clothes hidden in here somewhere?” I ask the woman behind the tiny counter who’s busy adding price tags to little white teddy bears.

“We keep a small supply of scrubs in the back. Yes.” She eyes me up and down. “You look like a small but would you like the extra space of a medium?”

“Yes, please. How much are they?”

“Bulk price of $19.99 for the set. They’re cheap and won’t last for more than a month, but they don’t need to, do they?” she adds kindly before disappearing behind a fabric curtain. She returns with a maroon fabric package swathed in plastic wrap. I hand over my credit card.

I decide I’ll shower and change in the morning so I can feel fresh and alert when the doctor stops by. It’s going to be a long night, I suspect.

“I’m back,” I announce to Justin. I set my purse and the newly acquired clothing on the shelf by the window and return to the chair by his bed with my book.

The fourteenth Duke of Greenwood had a very bad head cold. Kitty bit her lip to avoid pointing out that it served him right, and he had no one but himself to blame. He was already pouting like a six-year- old child. She patiently held the bowl of thin soup she’d been able to conjure from the dried herbs and a few stored vegetables she’d found in the kitchen. It seemed the usual caretakers of the manor were off on a holiday to visit their daughter in Cornwall. She could hardly blame them. It’s not like the Duke had sent advance notice of their arrival.

Rafe, on the other hand, had no such qualms. When he wasn’t sneezing, he was cursing them for abandonment of post or lecturing her on the impropriety of visiting him in his bedchamber. She’d merely raised an elegant eyebrow in the direction of the bowl of soup.

“Would you like me to leave then? And take the bowl of slop with me?” she’d asked rather acerbically.

He’d frowned, looking petulant, and swiped his reddening nose angrily with yet another handkerchief. “This is all your fault, Kitty.”

“My fault! I was perfectly happy in London.”

He’d growled at her then, so she shut him up by shoving the spoon in his mouth.

He sounds just like Justin , I think to myself. Raising my eyes from the book that’s now only keeping half my attention, I study the man in question. His chest is rising and falling, so that’s good. But I’d be so grateful if he were only in here for a bad cold like the duke. Not that Justin would ever let anyone corral him into a hospital for something he deemed minor. I don’t think they put you in ICU for that either. I wince as I straighten in the uncomfortable chair. It’s going to be a long and painful night. But then I study the bruises starting to appear on Justin’s stern face. Truly, I’ve got nothing to complain about.

A nurse popped in half an hour ago and offered to bring in a cot, but I don’t want to be out of reach of Justin. I think he knows someone is here as long as I’m touching him. I pat his hand gently. “I’m going to go brush my teeth. I’ll be right back.”

I set the book aside for tomorrow and stretch my arms over my head. Thankfully, I still have my travel toothbrush in my purse. Sometimes life rewards me for being disorganized, and that’s my general excuse for not making more of an effort in that direction.

Mildly refreshed, I slip my shoes off and grab the extra blanket from the cupboard. It’s thin and not very big, but it’s better than nothing. And it’s not like I can stretch out, so the length doesn’t really matter. I scoot my chair up so it’s a bit closer to Justin’s head, and then I fold my arms on the bed and rest my face on them. It’s not too different from trying to sleep on an airplane, I guess.

I doze more than sleep, forcing myself to sit up and stretch every time the nurse comes in, so I won’t freeze in this position. Then finally around two a.m. I fall asleep.

When I wake, I feel pinned in place, which has me in a brief panic until I realize it’s Justin. His hand is curled around the back of my neck, gripping gently. I want to cry with relief. But when I reach up to take his hand in mine so I can slide out from under, there’s no response. Whatever spark came in the middle of the night is gone again. I sigh and gently kiss his cheek. He’s no sleeping beauty, but maybe it will help.

Then I slip into the small bathroom and take a shower before changing into the scrubs I purchased yesterday. They feel like pajamas because I need to wash out my bra and undies. If I alternate between the two outfits, I should be able to last until Fred can get here. I quickly do my laundry in the tiny sink, using the liquid hand soap as detergent. It’s not ideal, but at least it’s antibacterial.

I hesitate next to Justin’s bed before picking up my purse. I need to eat and if I wait, I might miss the doctors who know what’s going on. I slip out and find the cafeteria again. This time, I simply grab a toasted bagel and a can of cola and take it back to his room. When I sit down and reach for his hand, his fingers grip mine .

“Justin?” I ask anxiously. His face doesn’t move, but his fingers grip tighter. I want to laugh and cry and dance all at once. “Justin, you’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident.” His fingers tighten once and let go.

Just then, the nurse comes in, followed by two doctors. “How is he, Mrs. Wilde? Any changes in the night?” One of them asks me. As soon as he refers to me, Justin’s fingers clamp down on mine, but this time he doesn’t let go. I can feel the yelling through his touch. I give the doctors a shaky smile. “Yes! He’s clasping my hand. He knows he’s here.”

They look dubious, but somehow I manage to get Justin to demonstrate this limited ability to communicate. Then they get down to the serious medical talk. I don’t understand half of it, but the gist is that he needs to be in the hospital for at least a week, but all signs are good for a full recovery eventually now that he’s regained some consciousness. I want to ask what exactly eventually means, but I’m afraid to do it where Justin can hear. If they say years, it might give him a serious setback. If you haven’t figured it out by now, Justin is not a patient man.

When they file out of the room, his fingers clamp down on my wrist. I know what he wants — an explanation. “You want to know why they think we’re married, don’t you?”

Yes , his fingers pulse. The right now is implied because it’s Justin.

“I told them that so they wouldn’t say I couldn’t see you or stay with you. Someone hit you deliberately, Justin. They might have thought you were me… but it wasn’t an accident. Fred is on his way.”

His fingers tighten and while I’m pleased at the sign his strength is returning, it’s starting to hurt. “I can’t quite interpret that one. If you’re unhappy about any of that, I’m sorry, but it’s too late now.”

His fingers pulse twice. “Okay, yes is one, and no is two, so you’re not unhappy about that, but something else? ”

One pulse. Well, at least I won’t be bored. “I promised Fred I would stay in the hospital until he could get here and investigate. Does that make you feel better?” I offer slightly.

Yes , his fingers respond. I smile wistfully and brush the hair out of his eyes. They’re closed, so it’s not bothering him, but it makes me feel better to fuss a little.