Page 16 of Conflagration
“Closer please. My throat’s killing me, and I don’t want to strain my voice.”
“Okay,” she says softly. In a flash, she’s by my bedside, still looking away from me.
Taking my hand, I grip her chin, forcing her to look up at me. Her dark-brown eyes are shining, almost as if she’s ready to cry. Goddammit. I don’t do well with women crying, but sweet Jesus, I’m so fucking lost as to what’s going on. And why this woman is claiming to be my future wife. I may have banged my head, but I’m pretty sure I’d have remembered proposing.
“First things first. Your name? I mean, if you’re my fiancée and all, I should at least know what to call you.”
With that, she winces then holds her hand to her head. Strange panic rushes through me, and I’m quick to grab her hand.
“You okay? Need me to call someone for you?”
She shakes her head, giving me a small smile. “No. No, I’m fine. Don’t call anyone. Except maybe a shrink. I’m clearly a head case.”
I pause at that, letting my finger hover over the nurses’ call button. “Umm, a head case? As in you’re fucking crazy?”
“No, no! Nothing like that. I’m sorry,” she says, taking a deep breath. “Okay, let me start over. I’m Ariana. I’m not usually a head case, I promise. I may have just hit my head a little harder than I thought last night.”
I’m not sure why, but I’m convinced that she’s not an escapee from the psych ward, and I take my finger off the button. “Okay, Ariana. Care to tell me what the hell is going on and why my family seems to think you’re my fiancée?”
A pink blush forms over her face, and I can tell that she’s embarrassed. She looks back and forth between the door and my hospital bed then leans in close. “This is going to sound crazy, but it’s really not as strange as it seems. You saved my life last night, Branson. And when I woke up in the hospital, you were all I could think about. The way you took charge and got me out of the car and then cocooned me when the tank exploded? I needed to see you. I needed to know that you were okay. And when I asked the nurse if I could, she told me only family was allowed. Before I knew what I was doing, I spotted my ring and just kind of blurted it out. I know it sounds like something out of a bad movie, but it did work. The nurses were already swooning over your heroics, so add in a love story and they were more than happy to let me into your room.”
She stops speaking and nibbles on her lower lip as I process what the hell she’s just admitted. On the one hand, yeah, it could sound crazy, but it’s also kind of sweet. It’s something I’m not exactly used to in my life, so I’m not sure how to respond. At least to the fiancée part.
“I told you last night. I’m not a hero. I’m not a savior. I was just a guy on the side of the road who wasn’t going to let you stay trapped in that car. Anyone would’ve done that.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “You know that’s not true. Hell, the truck driver didn’t even try to help me. Think whatever you want, Branson, but you saved my life.”
Feeling uncomfortable with where this is going, I change the subject back to the matter at hand. I hold her hand up and eye the ring. “Where’s the guy who really gave this to you?” I ask.
She pulls her hand back, nibbling on that damn lip again. I’m beginning to realize that it’s like a nervous tick for her, and I’m finding it more endearing than I should. Jesus Christ. What the fuck kind of meds are they giving me? I should feel angry at the intrusion in my life, but instead, I’m starting to go soft.
“Let’s just say it took me a while, but I finally listened to your advice and ran like hell,” she blurts out.
I’m completely confused at this point, having no idea what the hell she’s talking about.
She sighs then leans forward, resting her elbow on the bed, and cradling her head in her hand. “You don’t remember the night we actually met, do you?”
I remember my dreams. I remember seeing her face, hearing her voice, touching her skin. As I study her, a strange thought comes to mind, and it clicks.
The face of an angel. My angel.
“Atlanta,” I say. Not a question, but a statement.
Her eyes widen. “Wow. You actually do remember.”
Not wanting to burst her bubble, I try to let her down gently. “Well, I remember you. I remember that bottle of scotch. I remember waking up with the world’s worst hangover. At first, I was wondering if you were just a drunken hallucination or a figment of my imagination until I saw the note you’d left for me.”
“If you don’t want anyone else to give up on you, you can’t give up on yourself,” she whispers, quoting the note, and I nod. “Well, from the looks of it, it’s been working. After everything you told me, I didn’t expect your family to be here. But it seems as if they really care about you, Branson.”
Swallowing hard, I know she’s right. “They do. I may have been drunk off my ass that night, but like I said, your words stuck, even if, at first, I thought I’d conjured you up in my drunken stupor. It’s not been easy. I’m definitely a work in progress. I have my good days and my bad. Probably still more bad than good, but I’m trying.”
She holds my gaze. Something passes between us, and for one split second, I have this insane wish that this were real. That she really were my fiancée waiting by my bedside, meeting my family, and I were thrilled to be living another day with her by my side. To finally have someone in my life who hasn’t been damaged by my past actions.
But it’s no use. This is all a farce, and that’s more disappointing than I expected.
“I’m sure that’s not true. As long as you’re trying, you’ll get there. Now, tell me, Branson. Why didn’t you rat me out to your mom?”
Leaning back in the bed, I sigh. “I don’t know what all I told you that night, but things have been strained for a while. The happiness I saw on her face at the mere thought of you and me? I couldn’t take that away from her. At least not yet.”
