Covert Christmas. Hope White

your name?” she asked.

      He blinked a few times, struggling to make her face come into focus.

      “My name?” he said.

      “I’m Bree, remember?”

      He didn’t remember Bree, he didn’t remember much of anything.

      “I can’t... Don’t remember.”

      “Not even your name?”

      He shook his head, exhaling a quick breath of panic.

      “Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

      Her soft warm hand stroked his cheek in a soothing gesture. He closed his eyes, fighting to remember who he was, where he was from and why he was here with this woman.

      “You’ve probably got a concussion. With a little time it will come back to you.” She ran her fingers down his hairline to his jaw. Once, twice. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

      But it wouldn’t be okay, not unless he... What? What was he supposed to do?

      Blinking his eyes open, his gaze landed on her smile. His vision was clearing. That had to be a good sign, right? This view was definitely a good thing. A beautiful woman stared down at him, offering a warm and caring smile. She wasn’t glamorous like a cover model. She was adorable, a girl-next-door type of beautiful you read about in novels but wondered if they really existed.

      “Your eyes look better,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his face.

      He wanted to beg her to continue the nurturing gesture, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Begging a woman for anything felt wrong, and downright stupid.

      “I can see you,” he said.

      “That’s awesome. How’s the pain on a scale of one to ten?”

      “Pain?”

      “Your arm, your head?”

      “Were we...hiking together?”

      “No, I was out here for a search-and-rescue training mission and saw you fall.”

      “I fell?”

      “Yes.”

      He struggled to remember why he’d come out here in the first place. His gaze drifted beyond the woman to the brilliant shades of green surrounding them. It was so peaceful out here, so serene.

      “One to ten?” she prompted.

      He redirected his attention to her. “What?”

      “Your pain?”

      “Seven?”

      “There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest and it will all work out.”

      Honest? Was she kidding?

      “That bad, huh?” she said.

      “What?”

      “The pain. You made a face like someone shoved a lemon in your mouth.”

      “Yeah, I guess it hurts,” he said, concerned that she was able to read him so easily.

      “Well, it’ll probably get worse before it gets better. We’re going to have to lift you out of here and carry you down the trail to an ambulance.”

      “No hospital.” He’d be an easy target for sure. But for whom?

      “Sorry, Blue Eyes, but a gunshot wound warrants a trip to the E.R., and probably a meet-and-greet from the local police.”

      “But—”

      “Save your strength.”

      She placed her hand against his chest again, this time gently patting him in a rhythm that soothed him into a state of relaxation. His eyes drifted shut.

      * * *

      Pain speared down his arm to his fingertips.

      “Ah, God,” he breathed.

      But God couldn’t help him, not after everything he’d done.

      “Take it easy,” a woman’s stern voice said. “You’re hurting him.”

      It was the blonde from before. What was her name again?

      He opened his eyes. Struggled to focus. But everything seemed to bounce around him. The sky, the trees, the blonde beauty.

      “Hey, Blue Eyes,” she said. “We’re almost there.”

      He wanted to reach out but his arms were bound to a board of some kind. He must have looked panicked because she slid her hand into his and squeezed.

      “We had to secure you to the litter so you’d remain as still as possible. We don’t want you losing any more blood than necessary. Okay?” She smiled.

      “Okay,” he thought he said. Closed his eyes. Listened to the conversation around him.

      “Why can’t they send a helo?” the woman said.

      “No place to land up here. The ambulance is waiting,” a male voice answered.

      “I’m afraid he’s losing too much blood.”

      “His vitals are good.”

      “Will they—”

      “Bree, take a breath. He’s alive. You’re alive. All is well.”

      * * *

      Something pinched his arm. He opened his eyes. “What, ouch.”

      “Hello, Mr. Smith,” a young female paramedic said. “I’ll call you Mr. Smith because we couldn’t find any identification and it seems more dignified than calling you Mr. Blue Eyes.” She sneered at the cute blonde woman standing on the other side of him.

      Her name, he desperately needed to remember the blonde’s name.

      “Are you allergic to any medications?” the paramedic asked.

      “I don’t...think so.”

      “Can you tell me what day it is?”

      His gazed drifted past her to the lush forest in the distance. They were outside, surrounded by green. How did he get here again?

      “Sir?”

      He glanced at the paramedic, a twenty-something brunette with a tattoo of a butterfly on her neck. “It’s daytime.”

      “Do you know what day it is?”

      He glanced at the blonde beauty. She offered an encouraging smile. It didn’t help.

      “How about your name?” the paramedic said.

      “I told you he doesn’t remember,” the blonde said with an edge to her voice.

      “Sir, do you know where you are?” the paramedic tried again.

      “Mountains,” he gasped, hating the sound of his voice. Weak. Defeated.

      “What city or state?” she asked, administering something into his IV.

      “I... Washington?”

      The blonde beauty offered a bright smile. He could look at those green eyes, that joyful smile all day long.

      “Do you remember the trailhead or mountain you went climbing this morning?”

      He glanced at the blonde. She started to mouth something.

      “Bree!” the EMT scolded. “No cheating.”

      “Sorry.” Bree put up her hands.

      Bree, that’s right. A charming name.

      “Okay, let’s get you into the ambulance.” The paramedic nodded at someone behind him. The stretcher shifted slightly, then he was lifted up into the ambulance.