Chapter 17

My eyes flutter open to an empty bed. A heavy sigh escapes my lips. Of course it was just a dream. There was no way Ethan Blackwood would actually be here with me. The last thing I remember is passing out at the hospital. Those pain meds must have been stronger than I thought, conjuring up fantasies that never happened.

I push myself up slowly, but the room tilts violently. My hands grip the sheets as I wait for the dizziness to pass. When it finally does, I shuffle to the bathroom like a newborn fawn, desperate to wash the sterile hospital scent from my skin.

My to-do list looms over me. No phone. No car. The police said my phone shattered on impact. School gave me a few weeks' leave, but I need wheels before I can return.

Dressing feels like climbing a mountain. By the time I'm done, my head throbs like a drum.

"Damn it. Need my meds," I mutter.

Each step downstairs is a battle. My limbs feel like wet noodles. The kitchen seems miles away. I manage to throw together something resembling breakfast, though it tastes like cardboard. The pills go down easier than the food.

Just as I collapse onto the couch, the doorbell rings.

I groan. Whoever's there can come back in a decade.

It rings again. And again.

"Fine!" I snap, hauling myself up. My legs wobble dangerously as I yank the door open.

A stunning woman stands on my porch. Raven hair. Emerald eyes. Lips like rose petals.

"Can I help you?" I lean against the doorframe, praying my knees don't buckle.

Tears glisten in her eyes as she does the unthinkable—she hugs me. I freeze.

"I was afraid you'd still be asleep," she says, pulling back.

"Who the hell are you?"

She smacks her forehead. "Shit. Introductions first. My bad."

Against my will, I smile. There's something oddly charming about her.

"Can we go inside?" she asks.

"I don't know you. Not exactly inviting stranger danger in."

She blinks. "After what happened, I get the skepticism. But I promise I'm not here to murder you."

Something in her gaze makes me hesitate. Against all logic, I step aside.

"One wrong move and I'll gut you before my afternoon nap," I warn.

She grins. "I like you already. Need help walking?"

My glare answers for me.

We settle in the living room, me collapsing onto the couch like a sack of potatoes.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

"Amelia. But call me Letty. I'm your brother's girlfriend."

Ice floods my veins. "Get out."

"Please, just hear me out."

Against my better judgment, I do.

There's something about her—an ease I can't explain. She could be a serial killer, yet I feel safe.

"I know what Tristan did was awful," she says. "I love him, but I'm not blind to his faults. What he did to you...no one deserves that."

She wrings her hands. "I've wanted to meet you for ages. When I heard what happened, I had to come. Give me a chance?"

I curl my legs beneath me. "Does he know you're here?"

"We don't keep secrets. But he doesn't control me."

The love in her voice is undeniable. Tristan might be a saint to others, but to me? He's the villain in every story.

Yet...something stops me from shutting her out. Maybe it's the drugs. Maybe it's loneliness.

"One condition," I say finally. "Never mention Tristan or his family to me. Ever."

I watch the conflict play across her face. The hesitation. Finally, she nods.

"Deal." She extends a hand. "Friends?"

I take it reluctantly. "Friends."

The word feels foreign. Dangerous. But after surviving death, what's one more risk?

We talk for hours. She's a secretary at William Sterling's company. Only a year older than me. An orphan raised by her grandmother.

It's...nice. Weird, but nice.

"—and then I realized I'd been wearing two different shoes the entire time!" she's mid-story when the door knocks.

"Can you get that?" I plead. "I might faceplant on the way."

She returns with a redhead carrying a duffel bag.

"Miss Sterling," the stranger greets.

"Who the hell are you now?" I snap.

Letty looks amused. "Apparently, she's your nurse."

My blood runs cold. I didn't hire any nurse.

So who sent her?