Identity Crisis. Laura Scott

and yanked the curtain aside with a snap. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

       His gaze raked over her and she fought the urge to tug once more on the short hem of her T-shirt. His amber eyes held no clue to his thoughts. “Great.”

       He led the way through the emergency room, keeping his pace slow so she could keep up with her bum ankle. She swept a glance over the occupants of the waiting room, her attention snagged by a hacking cough. Despite her desire to leave as quickly as possible, her steps slowed to a stop.

       An elderly woman sat huddled in a corner, her lips as blue as her hair. Mallory abruptly changed course, heading toward the woman, who held a crumpled, blood-stained tissue in the palm of her hand. The poor woman looked as if she was ready to take her last breath.

       “Get a doctor over here, now!” Mallory called out to a passing nurse. “This woman’s on the verge of respiratory arrest.”

       The harried nurse sputtered an argument but then noticed the same bluish tinge to the woman’s lips that had drawn Mallory’s attention. “I’ll get an oxygen tank.”

       Seconds later, the nurse hurried over wheeling an oxygen tank. She cranked up the dial and placed an oxygen mask over the elderly woman’s face. “Take a deep breath, Mrs. Sullivan. We’re going to get you into a room right now.” The nurse touched a button on a device hanging from a lanyard around her neck that must have functioned like some sort of intercom. “Steve, I need a wheelchair brought into the waiting room, stat.”

       Mallory watched as one of the orderlies brought over a wheelchair. Soon, the elderly woman was escorted back. Satisfied, she turned back toward the entrance.

       Only to find the tall stranger staring at her in shocked surprise. “What was that about?”

       “What do you mean?”

       “How did you know she was going into respiratory arrest?” His gaze was suspicious and faintly accusing.

       Good question. How had she known? “I’m not sure.”

       He stared at her again, seemingly at a loss for words. She couldn’t understand his reaction, especially when he abruptly turned and continued walking through the door.

       She quickened her gimpy pace, following him through the doors to the parking lot. “Wait! I can’t move that fast!”

       He spun around and came back toward her, his face pulled into a grimace. “Sorry,” he muttered, although somehow she suspected that deep down he really wasn’t.

       Mallory didn’t know why she annoyed him, but worse, she couldn’t remember his name. Had he even told her? She couldn’t remember. Her head hurt so badly she could barely concentrate.

       And suddenly, the nearly invisible thread of control snapped. “Look, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name is, I don’t know what your problem is and I don’t care. Have you forgotten your promise to take me home? Or are you going to leave me stranded here without a ride?”

       “I said I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, and she couldn’t help noticing the deep grooves of fatigue bracketing the sides of his mouth. Maybe it wasn’t personal. Maybe he was just tired. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you stranded.”

       He seemed to be making an effort to remain calm, adjusting his stride to meet hers, as they headed across the parking lot. He opened the door of a pickup truck and gestured for her to get in. Her tight jeans hindered her movement as she tried to jump into the truck seat.

       “Do you need help?”

       “No.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she struggled to leverage herself up and into the truck. He waited patiently then closed the door gently but firmly once she was safely inside.

       She let out a tiny breath of relief when he climbed in beside her. She couldn’t explain why she wanted to get away from the hospital, but the need to escape couldn’t be ignored. She placed her palms on her thighs, trying to hide the bloodstains. If he saw them, he’d have questions, and unfortunately she didn’t have any answers.

       She wished more than anything that she didn’t have to depend on him to take her home. His shoulders strained at the seams of his white cotton shirt as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The cuffs of his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. Dark hair sprinkled his skin. She fought the absurd urge to touch him.

       “Gage.”

       She tore her glance from the mesmerizing strength of his arms. “Excuse me?”

       “My name is Gage Drummond. Alyssa and I are—close friends.”

       Mallory lobbed the name through the spacious portion of her brain where her memory should have been. Gage was a nice name. “Yes. So you said.”

       He kept his eyes glued to the road. “Alyssa is a nurse. She works in the emergency department of Trinity Medical Center.”

       “I see.” Mallory filed away that small tidbit of information. She had a twin sister who was a nurse and her boyfriend’s name was Gage. Comforting, to a certain extent, to know she wasn’t completely alone in the world. “Am I a nurse, too?”

       “No.” His response was terse. “You’re an interior designer, working for a large architectural firm. You create color schemes for offices, hospitals, that sort of thing. So don’t you think it’s odd that you knew that woman was about to go into respiratory arrest?”

       “Her lips were blue,” she said, even though a blanket of unease settled over her, worse than the one she’d felt earlier when she’d woken up in the hospital with a fog-filled brain. The minute she’d noticed the elderly woman in the corner, she’d known something was wrong. Respiratory arrest was when someone stopped breathing. Despite Gage’s claim she was a designer, she must have had some exposure to hospitals. Maybe she’d tried to follow her sister into nursing, but then dropped out? Why on earth couldn’t she remember? Mallory licked suddenly dry lips and tried to shrug. “Everyone knows blue lips are a bad sign.”

       Gage’s laugh didn’t hold any mirth. “Yeah, maybe. Or this is part of some weird way of changing yourself into someone I’d like. Don’t bother trying to flirt with me again. I happen to love Alyssa.”

       Mallory gaped at him in shock. “What are you talking about?” His comment floored her. Why would she try to flirt with him? Before he became involved with Alyssa? Or after? She felt a little sick that she might have treated her sister that way.

       “Never mind,” he said, as if he regretted bringing the subject up in the first place.

       Ignoring the pounding in her head, she lifted her chin. “Rest assured I’m not interested in flirting with you.”

       “Good.”

       Silence hung heavy between them. Mallory shifted her attention to the scenery outside her window, at least the part she could see through the darkness. Arguing with the stranger had temporarily held fear at bay, but without something to occupy her brain, the sense of doom clung, lining her clothes, abrading her skin.

       The night swallowed them, yet she felt safer inside the truck next to Gage than she had inside the busy, well-lit emergency department. Why? Why did she feel safer with a stranger? Peering through the window, she sought the source of her earlier apprehension. Was someone out there, looking for her? Whose blood stained her clothes?

       Her blank memory didn’t supply any answers. Outside, there was the faintest hue of light near the horizon, telling her dawn wasn’t too far off. Yet dozens of stars still littered the sky. Leafy green trees and mild temperatures told her the season was summer. The seemingly calm and peaceful landscape was at odds with her inner angst.

       Where, exactly, were they? Why wouldn’t this haze over her mind go away? She focused on several street signs, seeking even one that seemed familiar. All the while, she was keenly aware of the stranger’s disapproving presence beside her.