Page 64 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

I cared about this man lying on the stiff hospital sheets. Against the odds, I cared about him. Maybe a lot.

As I grappled with my feelings, I fought to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m just relieved you’re OK. Do the doctors know anything yet? Was it …” I didn’t want to say it.

He exhaled slowly. “They don’t think it was a heart attack, but we’re waiting on tests. My blood pressure was very high.”

I nodded. “I’m glad we don’t have to ride in a helicopter tonight.”

Something flashed in his heavy-lidded eyes as he gazed at me. “No, we don’t.”

Oh … I’d saidwe, but that was presumptuous. We’d only just started to become friends. I felt my cheeks color a bit and turned away briefly just as a different nurse knocked and entered.

“Hi there, Pete. How are you feeling?” he asked while setting up a few supplies on the bedside table. “I’m here to check your vitals. Can I have your right arm?”

“He prefers Peter,” I said quietly.

The nurse glanced at me briefly before applying the blood pressure cuff. “Oh, did I say Pete?” He laughed. “Sorry, I did see a note about that, but it’s been a long night.”

I looked over at Peter, but his eyes were closed as if he was trying to block out everything.

When the cuff was removed, I gave him a small smile and touched his other arm lightly. “Well, I should probably go and let you rest … you look tired.”

He opened his eyes and shook his head slightly. “Stay.”

I felt a pang in my chest that I didn’t care to examine. “Oh, um, are you sure? You look very sleepy.”

“Stay for a bit,” he said just before turning back to the nurse.

“Well, your vitals are definitely much better than they were when we admitted you. We won’t have results on the tests until morning though. You should rest for at least a few hours.”

When he didn’t respond, the nurse winked at me. “Don’t be stubborn, Mr. Auclair. Your girlfriend can stay for a bit to make sure you fall asleep.”

My eyes widened as they met his and then darted to the nurse, who was packing up to go. Before I could correct him, the nurse waved a hand. “Have a good night, both of you. The night nurse will check on you next time, as I’ll be heading out.”

Peter merely nodded a couple times before his eyes fluttered as he tried to focus on me. “Stay?” he mumbled.

I nodded, my worried eyes wandering over his very still body as I reminded myself it wasn’t a lifeless body but just a relaxed one. An exhausted one. I pulled a chair closer and placed my hand over one of his. He squeezed my hand but only with minimal strength.

I squeezed back and then bit my lip. I wasn’t his girlfriend, and I had no business pretending to be. But if this man needed me to stay, then I’d stay.

Chapter 17

Iwoke to a beeping sound, light chatter, and an achy back. My eyes found the clock on the opposite wall, and I squinted and then blinked a few times. Nine-thirty?

I guess I’d eventually fallen asleep in the chair by his bed, but I must not have slept very long, as I recall seeing the clock hit 6:30 am before I’d slept a wink. I’d played on my phone for a while until my battery eventually died. Mari and Terry had texted back around midnight, and I assured them I’d stay and keep an eye on things.

It made me feel slightly less weird to have a real purpose for being here, other than just … wanting to stay close. Because I did.

I lifted my neck off my shoulder carefully, wincing at the inevitable pain and stiffness. My eyes landed on Peter, still lying on the hospital bed but reading a newspaper now. “You’re awake,” I said, my voice sounding like a frog.

His eyes were immediately on mine, and I gazed into their depths. His eyes—his whole face and posture—seemed much more alert but somehow different than usual. It felt like his eyes were penetrating mine somehow, trying to communicate something without words …

I yawned, scolding myself for imagining things. If he was trying to communicate anything, it was probably surprise or gratitude. Nothing terribly deep. Or maybe it was just some lingering effects of the benzodiazepine they’d given him. I sipped from the water bottle I’d left on the ledge by the wall and cleared my throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” He set the newspaper aside, and his eyes never left mine, even as the nurse beside him started rattling off his stats.

“So, Mr. Auclair, these numbers are good. I think the doctor should be in soon,” she said crisply.

“Is he going to be OK?” I heard myself asking in a slightly desperate voice.

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