Dedication
To Sommer Stein … thank you for not firing me—yet.
Chapter One
BRIELLE
My eyes flutter open and then slam closed as the blinding light is too much. The ache in my head is so intense it steals my breath.
What the hell happened?
There’s a slight pressure on my arm, and then my mother’s soft voice fills the silence. “Brielle, honey. It’s okay. Open your eyes, my sweet girl.”
I inhale a few times before attempting it again. This time, I’m prepared for the brightness and the sterile white walls that reflect the sunlight. I hear someone rushing around a second before the blinds go down, casting shadows and making it a little easier for me to lift my lids.
“Where—” I try to speak, but my throat is raw. It’s as though I swallowed a thousand knives and haven’t had so much as a sip of water in years.
Mom is beside me, and my sister-in-law, Addison, is next to her. I turn my head to see who is on the other side, which is a big mistake as a new wave of pain shoots through my skull. I lift my hands to my head, trying to push the pressure down, but it doesn’t ebb that easily.
Who I assume is the doctor barks an order for medication before he lowers his voice to a whisper. “Brielle, it’s Holden. We’re going to get you some pain medication for your head.”
Holden? My brother’s best friend is here? I don’t understand. He left Rose Canyon years ago and only comes back once a year.
He speaks again. “Do you know where you are?”
I’m assuming I’m in the hospital, considering the monitors and bed I’m in, so I nod. “W-what h-ha-happened?” I choke on the words.
There are no sounds other than the beeping behind me. I will my eyelids to open and stay that way as if it will help me find the answer as to why I’m here. When they finally listen, I find myself looking directly at all three of my brother’s best friends. Holden, who is wearing his white coat, is in the middle. Next to him is Spencer Cross, the tall, dark, and sinful man I have dreamed of since I was thirteen but will never have. Behind him is Emmett Maxwell, who . . . is in the military on deployment . . . what the hell?
Why is he in a police uniform? Why is he even here? The emails he sends each week are all Isaac ever talks about because, of course, Emmett had to join the Special Forces. He couldn’t just do his time and come back—he needed to be heroic, which isn’t the least bit surprising.
“Do you know why you’re in the hospital?” Holden asks.
I shake my head, regretting it immediately.
He gives me a soft smile before asking, “What is your full name?”
“Brielle Angelina Davis.”
“What is your date of birth?”
“October seventh.”
“Where did you go to high school?”
I huff. “The same one we all went to. Rose Canyon High.”
Emmett steps forward, he is bigger than I remember, his chest is wide and arms filling out his uniform as though it’s ready to split the seams. He gives me his winning smile and rests his hand on Holden’s shoulder. “Brielle, do you think you’re up for answering a few questions for me? I know you’re probably in pain and exhausted, but it’s important.”
Questions? Wasn’t I already answering questions?
The pressure on my hand increases, reminding me that my mother is here, and I slowly turn to her. There are dark circles under her brown eyes and tears running down her cheek. Addy is next to her, and she also looks as if she hasn’t slept in a week. I glance around again, wondering where the hell my brother is. Isaac will tell me what’s wrong. He’s always honest with me.
“Isaac?” I call out, thinking maybe he’s in the hallway or something.
Addison’s hand flies to her mouth, and she looks away. My mother grips my hand tighter and then reaches for Addy.
“What about Isaac?” Holden asks, drawing my attention back to him.
“Where is he?”
Emmett speaks next. “What do you remember about the last time you were with Isaac?”
“I don’t . . . I don’t . . .” I look around, not understanding why I am in a hospital or what the hell is going on. “Help. I don’t . . .”
“Easy, Brie,” Holden says quickly. “You’re safe. Just tell us what happened.”
I shake my head because I don’t understand why he’s asking me that, which sends a shooting pain through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut until it passes enough to speak. “No, I don’t know. Why am I here? What’s happening? Where is Isaac? Why are you all crying? What’s wrong with me?”
Holden moves closer, holding my gaze. “Nothing is wrong with you, but I do need you to try to take a few calm breaths, okay?” He exaggerates the gesture, breathing in deeply, holding it for a second, and then slowly breathing out. After a few tries, I manage to mimic him, but the panic is still there, still clawing at my insides. He turns to Emmett. “She isn’t ready for this. Why don’t you guys give us a few minutes while I assess her and let her get her bearings. She needs a few moments.”
My mother stands but doesn’t relinquish her hold on my hand. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Mrs. Davis, I need to examine her, and it would be best if we can do it with no distractions.”
If it’ll give me some answers, I’ll do anything. Knowing my mother, she’ll never go without a fight. “Mom, it’s okay. I just . . . I need a minute.” My smile is brittle, but she nods and lets my hand slip from hers.
As Spencer, Emmett, Addison, and my mother leave, a nurse enters, and she and Holden flank the bed.
Holden moves in, flicking a light in my eyes before sitting on the side of the bed. “I know that waking up like this can be confusing and overwhelming. I’d like to check your vitals and talk, okay?”
I point to my throat, and the nurse hands me a cup with a straw. “Start with small sips. You have an empty stomach, and we want to go slow.”
I swallow the ice-cold liquid, letting it soothe some of the ache. I want to keep going so the sensation never stops, but she pulls the cup away much too fast.
Then he shows me photos of three objects. “In a few minutes, I’m going to ask you about those objects and you need to remember them and answer the questions I ask. Do you need to see them again?”
It’s a cup, a key, and a bird. It’s not rocket science. “I’m good.”
“All right. Can you lift your hands and push against mine?” I do as he asks, and when he seems satisfied, he moves on to a few other minor tests. Then he listens to my pulse and rattles off numbers. As he does that, my mind races, but I’m too tired to try to chase the thoughts around.
Holden speaks to the nurse. “Patient has started to present bruising around her face so we’ll need to take updated photos prior to discharge. I’d also like to order another MRI just to verify the swelling from both injuries is abating.”
“How bad are the bruises?” I ask.
“Nothing too bad. They should be healed in a week or two.”
I nod. “Okay. What about the head injury?”