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my insides are
curling with jealously and anger. Liberty left Nick after he came back with his
injury. Never even bothered visiting him in the hospital. I didn’t see her
again, but I heard she’d said she wouldn’t date a cripple. Honestly if I ever
ran into her, I think I’d want to punch her straight in her perfect mouth. And
I am not an aggressive person. How could she leave a man like Nick at a time
when he needed her most?
    “Yeah, well if she bolted when times got tough, then
she definitely wasn’t worth having,” I say.
    “Unlike you?”
    I snort. “Maybe I should have bolted sooner. I can’t
help wonder why I tried so hard when it was obvious our marriage could never be
fixed.”
    “Hey, don’t be angry with yourself for trying. Most
people don’t.” He grips my hand, squeezes and sighs. “If I ever get married,
she’ll be nothing like Liberty. She’ll be someone who doesn’t give up at the
first sign of trouble.” His blue eyes grow soft. “She’ll look incredible with
messy hair and scruffy jeans.” He runs his fingers over mine. “She’ll be
selfless, working all hours to look after others.”
    Okay is he talking about me? Fuck, I can barely
breathe as that gaze bores into me. And I can’t even glance away.
    “She’ll be an amazing mother.”
    God, does he do it on purpose? He sure knows how to
hit my weak spots. I sway slightly forward as if he’s sucking me in with his
words.
    The buzzer sounds and I jump up. I practically race to
the door to let in the delivery guy, my pulse throbbing. Thank God for the
interruption. Who knows what might have happened otherwise?

Chapter Three
    Sienna
    Arms clutching my sides, I step out of the hospital
and squint in the dusky light of the morning. I scrape a hand through my messy
ponytail and smother a yawn.
    Tonight has been one of the hardest nights I’ve had in
a long time. We had one guy crash on us and it was a mess. Normally working at
the stroke center, things are relatively quiet. We’re still busy—really
busy—but you don’t have the drama that most people expect in hospitals. A lot
of the patients end up staying with us for months as they recuperate or sadly
deteriorate, and most are elderly. Though we had a young guy in recently. Early
twenties. It was heartbreaking. Drug abuse apparently. And you just know his
life will never be the same again. He could barely talk, barely move.
    Drugs and alcohol. I shake my head as I follow the
path around the side of the hospital to the staff parking lot. I don’t even
know if Rob did drugs—it seems likely, but the soldiers were randomly drug
tested so maybe he was smart enough not to risk it. But I understand well the
cost of alcohol. It was when he was at his worse.
    I pause at the edge of the building and rummage
through my handbag for my car keys. I seem to have everything but my keys in
there. Scowling, I step under the street lamp for a better view.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure emerge
from the shadows. It’s only seven a.m. so it’s still gloomy I lift my head and
my pulse immediately skips. The guy is looking straight at me as he walks
casually over. I swing my gaze around but it makes no difference. We’re alone.
Trying to conceal my apprehension, I draw my shoulders back.
    He’s a skinhead, tough looking. The kind of man that
says ‘trouble’ as soon as you look at him. Even though it’s early morning, it’s
not cold so he wears a T-shirt. Tattoos cover his arms. And not nice ones.
These aren’t artistic and beautiful. These are a collection of pieces gathered
over time and most speak of a youth misspent. Half of them appear scrawled on.
    “Mrs. Wright?”
    Well if I wasn’t scared enough before, I am now. How
does he know my last name?
    “C-can I help you?”
    He comes close and the street lamp brings out the
stark dips in his cheeks. He looks like he could do with a good meal, but I
guess that he probably chooses drugs over food.
    “Yeah, you can.”