OWW.. My head hurts as I groan. I’m trying to open my eyes, but they won’t. What happened to me? Where am I?

  I groan again and then hear movement. I was scared until I heard his voice, eschewing me not to panic and be calm; he was with me.

  “You're okay, Rochelle. There was an accident, and you're in the hospital. The only thing wrong is you have a concussion. They want to observe you overnight to ensure the swelling goes down. I’m staying with you; I’ll watch over you. Get some rest. I’ll drive you home in the morning,” he said softly. It's almost too soft to hear.

  Moaning is my answer. I think I understand what he said. I drifted back to Neverland.

  I briefly awoke in the early morning hours to see the rumpled detective sleeping in the uncomfortable chair beside me. His head was down on the bed, and his hand was holding mine like he was afraid I might float away. Making sure I stayed tethered to this world. I couldn’t help myself; he was sleeping so peacefully, but my hand moved of its own accord and brushed through his dirty blonde locks. My God, he had fine, soft hair. A woman would be jealous of his golden tones. I didn’t want to stop, but I didn’t want to wake him. I drew my hand away, missing the connection.

  “Don’t stop,” he murmured.

  I giggled, “Oops, I woke the sleeping bear.”

  “Who are you calling a bear? You have never seen me in the morning. Wait until you do; then, you can judge me on what animal I am,” he grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

  OMG, fuck. I think I just fell for the man. My heart feels like it is going to burst through my chest. My eyes are watering. I want to say things that I have never said before. This is ridiculous. Get a hold of yourself, Rochelle.

  I close my eyes, pretending to go back to sleep. I cannot unsee the look he gave me when teasing me. The relief that I was going to be okay. Dare I say the love I saw mirroring my own? It just isn’t going to work for a lawless person dating a lawful one. I am in such deep shit here.

  A tear slid out of my eye and rolled down my cheek. A masculine finger ever so gently wiped it away. The tears rolled then, and he continued to brush them aside.

  “Are you in pain, sweetheart? I can call the nurse for more meds.”

  I shook my head, no.

  “What is it, then?”

  I shook my head; no, again.

  “Just rest, then. We’ll talk about it later when you're feeling better. Go to sleep, Rochelle. I won’t leave you.”

  I could have sworn as I drifted off that he said, ‘I won’t ever leave you.’

  Shit!

  The morning sun was bright, peeking through the curtains as I tried to get my bearings. The rays were in the wrong place in my bedroom. Did I rearrange my bed? Opening my eyes a little more, I winced and moaned at the pain from the light. I needed to get up and close the blinds. Moving towards lifting the blankets, they were stuck like something heavy on them. I turned to the left and saw the detective’s head lying on my bed. “What the fuck?” I croaked out.

  His head bounced off the blanket, and he smiled, “Good morning; how is your head feeling?”

  “What the fuck happened? Where am I? Who are you?” I questioned him, totally confused.

  His eyes go wide, unsure what to say. Surely, she knew who he was. They talked earlier that morning, and it was a revelation. And now she doesn’t know who he is? How is that possible? “Let me get the doctor for you.”

  “What? Where am I, and why am I here?”

  “You were in a car accident last night, Rochelle. We spent the night here for observation, but the doctor said you will be fine. Do you remember talking to me earlier this morning?”

  “No, who are you?”

  “I’m Detective Dwayne Dawson, and we were on a date last night. You were pulling out of the parking lot when you were struck by a drunk driver who exited the bar’s second driveway. Do you remember any of this?”

  “No, how long have we been dating?”

  “This was our first date, and we are supposed to have the second one Friday night.”

  “Did I already say yes to this second date?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “The only polite thing is to keep my word. Hopefully, the doctor will say Okay, you are rather handsome and kind. Oops. Have I told you that already?”

  He chuckled as the doctor walked in, halting their chitchat.

  “So, how is my patient this morning? I’m Dr. O’Brien, the neurologist here, and I have a few questions for you,” he said as he took the stethoscope from around his neck. He paused beside my bed, prepared to listen to my heart.

  “I thought neurologists were head doctors?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Why are you listening to my heart?”

  “Because after an accident, we like to ensure everything works properly. Have you noticed any symptoms or strange thoughts?”

  “How about I don’t remember what happened or my date here?” I should have been polite, but I don’t know; maybe I’m just not that person.

  “So you are experiencing some memory loss. What is the last thing you remember?”

  Trying to think, what was the last thing I remembered? “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know your name and address?”

  “Um, Rochelle. I live in a shitty apartment.”

  “Your last name? Street address?”

  “Not coming to me.”

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  “I’m afraid your swelling may have worsened, rendering some amnesia. We’ll need an MRI to confirm. I’ll put in the order, and an orderly will take you for the test. Once I have the results, I’ll come see you. Any questions?”

  “No,” I said, even though I didn’t really understand what was happening.

  “Yes, what happens if Rochelle has amnesia?”

  “I will know what we are dealing with once I receive the test results. Let’s not put the cart before the horse. I’ll be back shortly to explain the findings. Sit tight,” the doctor uttered as he left the room.

  Schooling my face so that I would not look nervous was more complicated than I thought, as the first thing Dwayne asked me was if I was all right.

  “I think so. I’m not sure what is going on. I assume you don’t know me well, as this was our first date?”

  “Not very. But we do have chemistry and like each other.”

  “Not helpful. I wonder if there is someone I should be calling?”

  “As far as I know, last night when we talked, you had no family.”

  “Well, that’s just sad.” My eyelids drooped, and I felt exhausted. This was too much to handle. I needed peace and quiet; my head was thundering in my ears, and my stomach was nauseous. I think it was time for him to leave and for me to rest. “Can you ask for a nurse, please?”

  “Sure, hold on, let me call for one.” He stepped out of the room, and I felt adrift. I didn’t like the feeling it invoked with him gone. Maybe I needed him to stay. I cannot fathom what happened on one date that I felt connected to him, but there was definitely something there between us. I felt no fear with him beside me. But now that I was alone in the room, I was terrified. Like the world was out to get me, was this a nightingale effect? Latching on to the person who rescued me?

  My heart sang when Dwayne walked back into the room. He smiled at me with his white teeth and bright, shining eyes, like he was happy to see me. Butterflies swam in my heart, making it beat faster. He walked over and kissed my forehead. The connection of his lips made my headache lessen for a few seconds. His beautiful lips were a balm to my soul. My eyelids drooped.

  “Rest, baby. I’ll be right here.”

  “No, stay until I fall asleep; then you need to go eat, rest, shower, whatever you need to take care of yourself.”

  Whispering with affection, “Rochelle, I’m fine. You’re the one who needs to be taken care of. I will stay until they take you for the MRI, then I’ll run home and shower and get a bite to eat. I’ll meet you back here. Okay?” He kisses my forehead again and lingers this time.

  I close my eyes at the gentle touch, reaching to hold his hand as I drift off. An overwhelming sense of home invades my heart. My brain may be damaged, but my heart knows what’s true. And Dwayne is mine.

  I wake to being jostled, holding my head with my hands to keep it from moving. “What the fuck is going on?” I moan.

  “Sorry to wake you, Miss, but we are headed to the MRI,” a deep baritone voice says.

  “Ok, but do you have to rock the boat so hard? It hurts my head,” I try shouting, but it sounds like a croak.

  “The gurney doesn’t have shock absorbers, but we will be there soon.”

  My head is hurting more as flashing lights from overhead are pressing in on me. The wiggle of the wheels is going to make me hurl up my guts. Just as I’m about to tell the man to stop, he utters that we entered the MRI waiting area. I swallow down the bile. And take some deep breaths, trying to make everything stop swirling and settle.

  “You are next; it will only be a few minutes. I’m going to leave you parked here, and the attending doctor will be with you shortly,” the orderly says as he leaves through the door.

  Not sure what to do, I lay there and rest. I must have fallen back to sleep because this groaning noise wakes me up. What the heck? That is awfully loud. Don’t they know I have a concussion, and loud noises make me sick and my head throb?

  “Hello?”

  “Lay still, please, don’t move.” I hear a speaker over my head.

  “Hello? This is killing my head; please stop. I am going to throw up.”

  “If we stop, we will have to start from the beginning and are halfway done. The pain will be worse if we have to start over. Can you hold it down and let this finish, please? Hold still.”

  What the fuck? I am going to complain. I am not sure to whom, but this is terrible, really bad. My stomach is starting to hurt with sharp pains. The muscles ripple along my sides as bile comes up my throat. There is no stopping it. I turn my head to the side and projectile the mucus from my stomach all over the side of the machine. I retch again for good measure. My stomach hurt, but I didn’t feel sick anymore. I breathe deeply and almost fall back asleep.

  “Damn it.”

  I heard the cussing from the loudspeaker. Then, the machine is moved out of the cylinder. A loud yell is heard from afar, “Clean her up and then the machine. We’ll have to do this again later. Reschedule it.”

  As the gurney was wheeled away, I heard myself say, “I told you I was going to throw up.”

  The orderly laughed, “Yes, you did. Just rest, Miss. We’ll get you back in later.”

  “Once was enough for me. I’ll take a pass.” I could hear him chuckle as I drifted off again.