Page 71 of Pucked Together

I hear footsteps and the feel of hands on me.

"Very good. Very good, Isabella. Try to open your eyes." The soothing female voice coaches me. "There you go."

I open one eye and see the face of an Asian woman, regal and beautiful, all dressed in white.

"Am I...in heaven?" I ask. My voice is raspy and scratching like I've gone weeks without drinking water.

She chuckles. "No, thankfully not yet," the woman says. “But you are in a hospital. Isabella, do you remember anything that happened before you got here?'

I struggle to get my second eye open. The light in the room makes it almost unbearable.

"Should I kill the lights?" The male voice asks earnestly.

"Yes, thank you. That might help her."

"Keelan?" I ask, wondering if I've somehow forgotten my own brother's voice.

"He's still recovering," the male says.

"Re-cover-ing?" I get out with tremendous effort. "From what?"

I make a move to try to sit up, but the woman who I imagine to be my doctor stops me.

"Isabella, you've suffered a brain injury. I need you to move slowly and take it easy. Do you understand?"

I give a small nod. Anything more than that, and it feels like my head might burst from the motion.

"Now, I'm going to bring in some of my colleagues who will run some tests, and I'll return to ask you some standard questions to see how well you're recovering. "

"Wha—what happened?" I ask.

"We'll explain everything. Just sit tight,” she says and tells the male stranger in the room, "It'll only be a moment. Remember what we discussed."

He nods his understanding and then comes to sit next to me as the doctor leaves.

I look over at him. He's handsome in a rough, rugged kind of way. There’s stubble on his cheeks like he forgot to shave. He's big, too. Like he could be a linebacker.

"Hi," he says. His voice is husky. But not in an 'I'm dying of thirst" kind of way like mine probably sounds.

"Um...hi?" He keeps his distance, but I notice his face fall slightly.

'How are you feeling, Iz?"

He says my name like he knows me.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

He smiles—big and radiant, and it hits me right in the heart unexpectedly.

This man is gorgeous.

"There's my girl," he says, leaning in closer and reaching for my hand.

I move it away. And his face contorts.

"Izzy," he breathes.

"Your girl?" I ask. "Oh, ok. I see what this is..." I look around the room to see if he's trying to pull the wool over my head. "This is so like him to get his team in on a prank."