Giving My All To You. Sheryl Lister
his direction. Her eyes fluttered closed and opened again.
In the fading sunlight, Brandon could see bits of glass in her hair and blood on her cheek where she had been cut. “Can you unlock the doors?” For a moment he thought she had passed out, then he heard the click of the lock. He opened the door and, being careful of all the glass on the seat, leaned in. “Help is on the way. What’s your name?”
“Faith,” she whispered.
“Faith, I’m Brandon. Are you hurt anywhere else besides your shoulder?”
“I... I don’t know. Every...thing...hurts.” Her eyes closed again.
“Faith, I need you to stay with me.” He backed out and started to go around to the driver’s side.
She moaned again. “Please...please don’t leave.”
“I’m just coming around to your side.” He waited for a break in the traffic and hurried around to the driver’s side. Once there, he carefully opened the door and managed to give her some breathing room from the airbag. Brandon reached for her hand, his concern mounting. “Are you still with me?” She muttered something that sounded like yes. Brandon was momentarily distracted when another person approached.
“Is she okay, man? I called 911.”
“Thanks. She’s hanging in there.” It seemed like an eternity passed before he heard the sirens. Finally.
When the paramedics and police arrived, Brandon stepped back. A police officer called him over to give a statement and his gaze kept straying to where the medical team was getting her out of the car and onto a gurney. Faith cried out and it took everything in him not to rush over. He finished his account and stood by watching with the other two people who had eventually stopped.
“Is one of you named Brandon?” a paramedic called out.
Brandon strode over. “Yeah. Me.”
“She’s asking for you.”
He smiled down at her strapped down on the gurney. In the fading sunlight, he could see her face starting to swell where the airbag had hit her. “You’re in good hands now.”
“Thank you,” Faith said, her voice barely audible. “My stuff...my...”
He took it to mean she wanted her things from the car. “I’ll get them.” To the paramedic he asked, “What hospital are you taking her to?” After getting the information, he walked back and retrieved her purse, keys and a small bag from the backseat. Why was he thinking about going to the hospital? He’d done his civic duty. It would be easy to hand off her belongings to one of the officers and be on his way. But for some reason, he needed to make sure—for himself—that she was okay. Brandon slid behind the wheel of his car and, instead of going home, merged back onto the freeway and headed to the hospital.
Faith slowly came awake in a semidark room and it took her a moment for her to register where she was. She’d had the most awesome dream about a handsome guardian angel. Too bad it was just a dream. Never would she be so lucky as to run across a man like him. She lifted her hand and pain shot through her right shoulder and flared out to every part of her body. She sucked in a sharp breath and eased her hand down. She went still at the sight of a man asleep in a chair. She frowned. Who in the world...? As if sensing her scrutiny, he opened his eyes and pushed up from the chair. Faith blinked. He was even taller than she originally thought, well-built and easily the most handsome man she’d seen in a long time.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“I thought I dreamt you.”
His deep chuckle filled the room. “No. I’m very real.”
Faith tried to clear the cobwebs from her mind. “You helped me when I crashed.” She thought for a moment. “Brandon?”
He nodded. “How are you feeling?”
“Everything hurts. Even breathing hurts.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Um...what time is it?” she murmured.
Brandon checked his watch. “A little after eleven.”
“You’ve been here all this time?”
“For the most part. I brought your stuff and I didn’t want to leave it with anyone without your permission.” He placed them on the tray.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to call your husband or family?”
Faith wanted to roll her eyes at the husband reference, but just the thought made her ache, so she settled for saying, “I’m not married.”
“What about family—Mom, Dad?”
The last person she wanted to talk to was her mother. “My parents don’t live here,” she added softly. She had been on her way to her father’s house, but chickened out before arriving and had turned around to go back to the hotel when she’d had the accident.
A frown creased his brow. “You don’t have anyone here?”
“No. I live in Oregon. I just got here yesterday.”
“Hell of a welcome.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered.
“Well, now that I know you’re okay, I’m going to leave. I’ll stop by to see you tomorrow to make sure you don’t need anything.” Brandon covered her uninjured hand with his large one and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Despite every inch of her body aching, the warmth of his touch sent an entirely different sensation flowing through her. The intense way he was staring at her made her think he had felt something, as well.
“I...um...” Brandon eased his hand from hers. “Get some rest.” However, he didn’t move, his interest clear as glass. After another moment he walked to the door, but turned back once more. “Good night.”
“Good night.” Faith watched as he slipped out the door, her heart still racing. Her life seemed to be a mess right now, but knowing she would see Brandon again made her smile.
* * *
The next morning Faith was coherent enough to think. But the nurse had just given her more pain medication and she needed to call Kathi before it kicked in, to let her know about the accident. She dug inside her purse and pulled out her cell.
“Hey, girl,” Kathi said when she answered. “Have you seen your father yet?”
“I didn’t get a chance. I had an accident last night on the freeway.” She shared the details of what happened.
“Oh, my God! I’m taking the first flight out,” Kathi said before Faith could finish. “What hospital are you in?”
“Kathi, you don’t need to come down here. Luckily, the windshield deflected the momentum of the pipe and the wound isn’t too deep. My face stings from the cuts and it’s swollen where the airbag hit me. They said I have a mild concussion and that’s why they’re keeping me. I’ll be fine.” Her friend was a natural-born worrywart and, if she came to town, would stand over Faith like a mother hen guarding her chicks until Faith was completely healed.
“When are you going home?”
“The doctor said most likely tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll be there Saturday morning. That’ll give you a day to get settled into the hotel. Do your parents know?”
“I talked to my dad and he said he’d tell my mother.” Faith had called her stepfather purposely because she didn’t want to run the risk of hearing her mother say, “I told you nothing good could come from you going to visit that man.”
“What about your biological father?”