I nodded.
His expression changed, like something about that bothered him.
“So, it was acute.” He rubbed his jaw. “Odd.”
“My whole medical history is odd.”
Blake then asked precise, targeted questions, each one making me feel less like a hypochondriac and more like a puzzle he was determined to solve. Finally, he clasped his hands together, his expression settling into something that looked dangerously like hope.
“I’d like to take advantage of you being here for the night,” he said. “With your permission, I’d like to order an MRI of your head and chest.” He leaned closer, his eyes intent on mine. “And I want to order more labs today to look for markers that might have been missed. I’ll consult with some of my colleagues and put a rush on the orders.” His lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “With any luck, by morning, we’ll have some answers as to what’s going on.”
Peace. It began to settle into my bones.
But the thing was, that MRI was evidently about to come with sedation, thanks to my claustrophobia. Combined with the painkillers already floating through my system, that cocktail would loosen my tongue and unlock the vault where I kept my darkest secret of all.
And if that secret slipped free, it wouldn’t just hurt me; it might destroy everyone I’d spent years protecting.
17
BLAKE
“Let’s go with 2 milligrams of Midazolam,” I said. “Once she’s sedated, we’ll proceed with the MRI.”
Chuck, my charge nurse, gave a professional nod. We’d done this dance countless times, helping claustrophobic patients face their tube-shaped demon. Minutes later, I stood in the fluorescent-lit hallway outside her room, wrapping up a call. Through the half-open door, I watched Chuck introduce himself—his first interaction with Tessa since the nursing shift change—and when he reached up to adjust her IV, Tessa flinched.
Flinched.
Away from his hand.
That flinch set my pulse on fire, every hair on my arms standing on end.
Chuck didn’t seem to notice, administering the fast-acting sedative.
But I did. I caught every microsecond of that involuntary reaction. The slight crinkle of her face, the instinctive withdrawal, the sharp intake of breath. Time stretched, and suddenly, I couldn’t hear anything over the furious blood screaming in my ears.
I ended the call, forcing myself to breathe while every muscle in my body felt wired, primed for a fight with no target. In fact, I had to count to twenty, just to make myself move into her room without scaring her.
“Blake!” Tessa’s voice came out slurred, a loopy grin spreading across her face.
Jesus.
“You look grumpy,” she said, words swimming together.
“And you sound like you’re feeling no pain.” Despite the rage churning in my gut, I nearly smiled.
Evidently, she was adorable when loopy, but that earlier flinch haunted me.
Flinching meant history. Flinching meant someone had taught her to expect pain. Was it the same bastard who’d marked her collarbone?
“They’ll be here to bring you to the MRI soon,” Chuck said, excusing himself.
“Come closer.” Tessa patted her hospital bed.
I shoved my hands deep in my coat pockets, hiding their angry tremors as I approached. My fingers itched to trace that scar again, to decode its story.
She blinked with the exaggerated care of the heavily sedated.
Note to self: Tessa was a lightweight.
