Page 19 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

Jane closed the magazine with a snap of her wrist. She found the whole angle of the article distasteful — were there really that many people who liked to read about the misfortune of others? Yes, Logan was rich and famous, but that didn’t make him any less of a person. It didn’t make him immune to feelings. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to have the world rooting for your downfall.

He flashed into her mind — not the man from the magazine, but the one she had met. She saw the sun shining behind his head, framing him with a golden halo as he peered down at her, eyes crinkled with concern.

She remembered the soft feel of Loki’s tongue as the puppy had made their acquaintance. For a moment, before she had realized the awful truth… their meeting had seemed like a meet cute from a movie itself.

His hand had felt so strong when he had helped her up, and, despite being a little cool and obviously annoyed at the squirming bundle that was his new puppy, Logan had shown her much kindness by taking her to the hospital when he could have put her into a taxi…

Why, then, had he left her without a word?

A flicker of irritation cut through the warmness she had started to feel.

She was only a hiccup to his day: she hadn’t meant anything to him in his big, important world. Still, surely even a movie star could have managed a little more sensitivity. If nothing else, he could have faked it.

She wondered if Summers had any news on her real identity yet. How long did forensics take to investigate a dress? What exactly was she hoping they would find? Surely everything would have washed off in the ocean?

Jane rubbed her head.

So many questions with no answers in sight. She would have to be patient. If Summers had news, he would be in contact.

Her stomach rumbled. She rubbed at it absently. It must have been a while since she had last eaten. She leaned toward the “call” button the doctor had shown her when she caught sight of her filthy hands.

Dirt was caked over the knuckles. There was even sand beneath her nails. She noticed the ends of her hair next, dry and gritty.

As hungry as she was, she couldn’t eat without having a shower first. She was filthy and would feel better once she was clean.

Moving to the bathroom, she shut the door, turned on the shower, then reached up behind her to unfasten the hospital gown.

Testing the water with a hand, she stepped beneath the spray and let the water rain down. The hot water massaged her aches and pains, washing away the remains of the beach that, until now, still clung to her. She watched the tiny grains of sand and grit mingle with the soapy water, swirling between her toes and down into the drain.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, a cloud of steam behind her, she saw the tray of food that had been left on her table. She recognized the dish instantly — Chicken Parmesan and spaghetti Alfredo. Next to the plate of pasta, there was also a piece of apple pie for dessert, a juice box, and a small bowl of fruit salad.

Saliva flooded her mouth as she hurried to the food and dove in. The pasta was overdone, the chicken a little dry, but it wasn’t a bad effort. Despite those small issues, it tasted like the best meal she had ever had in her life. In no time, she had finished everything. Embarrassed at what a pig she had been, she pushed the table away.

Her eyes found the phone beside her bed. Picking up the handset, she looked at the buttons, hoping her mind would recall a well-used number.

Home, maybe? Her parents? Work?

The numbers stared up at her blankly.

She all but slammed the phone down as a flash of irrational rage came over her. What the hell was she supposed to do? Just sit here until something came back to her? What if it never did?

What if she never remembered who she was at all?

Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, followed by the appearance of a woman in her thirties. It was a nurse, but not one she recognized. She had brunette curls that she kept tied back in a high ponytail. Coming into the room, the nurse gave her an approving smile, her ponytail swinging from side to side.

“Good, you cleaned the tray. Are you still hungry? I could get you something else?” She had a warm, friendly voice.

“It was you who left the food?” Jane asked.

“Yes,” her nurse nodded. “I heard you were in the shower and knew that you’d be hungry. You slept clear through breakfast and lunch, and I saw on your chart that you came in yesterday afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Jane answered simply as the nurse started to gather up her empty plates and tray. “Has anyone left a message for me?”

The nurse looked up. “A detective Summers said he hasn’t found anything yet, but not to worry as these things can take a while to go through the system. He called for you earlier, but you were asleep,” she added by way of explanation.

“No one else called?” Jane asked, feeling suddenly disappointed even though she already knew the answer.

“Not that I know of. Were you expecting someone to?”

---