Adam's hurt.

Hospital.

Accident at work.

Not critical.

Beth clenched the steering wheel, her grip so tight that her fingers started cramping. Her mouth opened, sucked in a huge gulping breath of air. She needed to calm down, to slow down. Getting into an accident because she was flying down the interstate wouldn't help anything.

She hadn't been calm since she received the text messages early this afternoon. The only thing that had stopped her from frantically racing out the door of the salon was that last one, telling her he wasn't critical.

She had almost ignored the text messages at first, wondering if someone had the wrong number, if someone was texting her by mistake. She hadn't seen Adam since their last night more than two weeks ago, when she'd said goodbye. She didn't recognize the incoming number, only knew that it was a Maryland area code. Surely the texts weren't for her; they must be meant for someone else.

That didn't stop the sharp pain of worry that ripped through her when she saw them. There had been nothing between them, nothing more than sex. Yet the idea of Adam being hurt, of that beautiful, vital body being injured, filled her with pain and fear and…

She shook her head and wiped a shaking hand across her eyes. Nothing more than sex? Who was she kidding? Somehow, somewhere along the way, she had started thinking of Adam as something more than a casual encounter. Oh God, how had she let it happen? It shouldn't have…but it did.

It was for that reason she almost ignored the text messages. They hadn't been meant for her—they couldn't be. But she received a few more, calling her by name.

Beth finally learned that the sender was Mikey, the woman firefighter from Adam's shift. A woman she had only briefly spoken to, a woman she barely knew.

It was the final message that had sent her running from the salon in something close to panic.

He needs you, Beth, only he doesn't know it.

Stupid. God, she was so stupid. Why was she racing to the hospital on the word of one of Adam's coworkers? This was a mistake, a huge mistake that would only result in heartbreak. She doubted that Adam needed her—she doubted he needed anyone. She was flying down the interstate, breaking the speed limit and risking an accident, to go see a man who didn't even know she was coming.

A man who would no doubt be very surprised when she showed up. And he probably wasn't even hurt that bad. She was probably overreacting and imagining the worst.

Her foot eased off the accelerator as she merged off I83 toward the exit for Charles Street, her phone's map app telling her to stay to the right. An overwhelming urge to turn the car around and go back home washed over her. Yes, she was overreacting. This was a mistake that would end in embarrassment for both of them.

But what if she wasn't overreacting?

It was that very slim possibility that kept her driving in the direction of the hospital.

South along Charles Street, past something that looked like an old castle on her left. Traffic slowed in front of her, stopping for a light. Her phone instructed her to turn left onto Towsontown Boulevard, to make a right onto Osler Drive. She drove through parts of a university campus, finally turning left onto Sister Pierre Drive to the hospital entrance.

She pulled into the parking garage and eased the old car into an empty space on the third level. And then she sat there, her forehead resting against the steering wheel, wondering if she was making a big mistake.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shaky and too fast. Yes, this was a mistake. She would walk into the room and see the unwelcome surprise on Adam's face and realize he had no desire to see her.

But what if she saw something else?

Foolish. So foolish.

She was here. She'd just go in, say hi, and that would be it. Five minutes, no more than that. Just enough to say hi and to reassure herself that he was fine and then she'd turn around and leave. She'd come this far, after all, she might as well see it through.

And it wasn't like this would be the first time she'd made a fool of herself in front of a man. One more time wouldn't hurt her.

She grabbed her purse and climbed out of the car, choosing to ignore the tiny little voice that piped up and called her a liar. The heels of her short boots clicked on the concrete as she walked toward the elevator. Just a few minutes, that was all. She could survive a few minutes.

She entered the hospital, paused as she looked around the lobby. Mikey had given her Adam's room number. Did she need to check in at a desk, or just go up? She wasn't sure.

Better safe than sorry.

She pulled the straps of her purse higher on her shoulder and made her way to the elderly man sitting at the desk. He looked up at her with kind eyes, an expectant smile on his face.

"I'm—I'm here to see Adam Price." Beth gave him the room number and waited. The man entered something into the computer then asked her to sign in as he gave her a visitor's badge. Beth clipped it to the collar of her sweater then started toward another set of elevators. Her gaze swept past a small gift store and she hesitated.

She shouldn't, not really.

But now that she saw it, she realized she wanted to. Just something small, maybe even something silly.

Ten minutes later, she was on the elevator leading up to Adam's floor, a single helium balloon attached to the hand of a small stuffed bear dressed in firefighter gear. She was already regretting the purchase, thought about leaving the silly thing behind in the elevator when the doors opened with a small hiss.

She was already making a fool of herself by coming to see him, she might as well go all the way. It was just a stupid bear that meant nothing. No harm in giving it to him.

She stepped off the elevator, studied the signs on the wall across from her, then turned left. The maze of hallways stretched around her, leading in different directions. She had to backtrack twice, looking for the right wing. A nurse took pity on her and pointed her in the right direction, her smile widening at the sight of the bear and balloon.

At least someone appreciated it.

Beth tugged on the heavy wooden doors, entered another hallway lined with rooms. The noise of mechanical beeps and groans and soft conversation hummed around her, oddly hushed. She heard laughter coming from a room at the end of the hall, out of place, almost jarring. Under the laughter was another voice, a little deeper, strained and somehow forced. A nurse came out of one room, frowned in the direction of the noise, then finally noticed Beth standing there. Her gaze lowered to the bear in Beth's hands then she pointed in the direction where the laughter had come from.

"Last room on your right."

Sweat dampened Beth's hands and she wondered how the nurse knew which room she was looking for. The firefighter bear, it must be. She headed in that direction, scanning each room number just in case. She didn't want to enter a stranger's room by mistake.

She didn't want to enter Adam's room, either, not when she saw the people crowded in there. Nobody had noticed her yet, it wasn't too late. She could still leave without embarrassing herself.

A head turned as she started backing away from the door. Piercing gray eyes caught hers, flared with recognition. The man—his name was Jay—nudged the man next to him. Conversation slowly died away as more heads turned, one by one, to look at her.

Beth tightened her grip on the bear and almost ran off under all the scrutiny—but her feet were glued to the floor, unable to move. She swallowed, the sound loud in her ears, and scanned the faces. Most of them were familiar. At least, she thought they were. She wasn't really looking at them, she was trying to see the bed—but it was hidden behind the bodies of Adam's other visitors.

Beth shifted, wondered if she looked as frightened as she felt. This had been a mistake. A huge mistake.

She wondered if it was too late to back out of the room, too late to run down the hall and out to her car. She took one hesitant step back, ready to do just that, when the crowd moved away from the bed and she got her first glimpse of Adam.

And oh God, had that strangled gasp come from her? It must have, the way everyone was looking at her. She closed her mouth, pressed her lips into a tight line, ignored the sudden wave of dizziness that washed over her. The man in the bed didn't look like Adam, not at first.

A white sheet covered him from the waist down, the color somehow washing out the bare skin of his abdomen. His right arm was held in place against his bare chest with some kind of sling. She could see a tube of some kind sticking out from under his arm. Oh God, the tube had been inserted into his chest, she could see where it entered his skin and was held in place with white tape. Another tube ran from his left arm, up through some kind of machine and into a clear bag suspended from a hook above his bed. An oxygen mask rested at an odd angle near his pale face. Beth could hear the slight hiss of air and wondered briefly why it wasn't covering his mouth and nose. Wasn't that how it always looked on television?

Her gaze drifted across the stubble covering his jaw, lingered on the dark smudge across his cheek. No, not a smudge. A bruise, black and purple and swollen, so dark against the pale, drawn skin of his face.

And then her gaze met his and Beth forgot to breathe. His eyes, normally such a deep, dark blue, were glazed with pain, the skin underneath them sunken and bruised. He looked…vulnerable. Weak. Not quite frail, but no longer filled with the vitality she had noticed the first time they met.

A tremor went through her, chilling her. She pulled her gaze away from his, glanced at the curious faces watching her, looked back at Adam.

"I—I just—" She tried to get the words out but couldn't, they were lodged in her throat, cutting off the air to her lungs. Panic seized her and she closed her eyes, told herself she could not—would not—faint. Not here. She had already embarrassed herself enough just by coming here. She wouldn't make it worse by falling flat on her face.

A second went by, then another. She cleared her throat, pulled in a deep breath, and opened her eyes. Her gaze returned to Adam and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he surprised? Happy? Angry?

She couldn't tell, realized it didn't matter.

"I—I just came to drop these off—"

"That's our cue. Come on guys, time to leave." The feminine voice, tired yet filled with authority, came from the other side of Adam's bed. Beth looked over, noticed Mikey pushing herself up from a chair. Her fiancé was by her side, helping her stand as she grabbed the pair of crutches resting against the wall.

One by one, Adam's visitors filed past her, their greetings of hello and nice-to-see-you-again nearly drowned by the buzzing in her ears. She nodded, may have replied, she didn't know. The last one to leave was Mikey, hobbling on the crutches, a cast covering her foot and lower half of her leg. She stopped at the foot of Adam's bed and gave him a look Beth couldn't decipher.

"Don't be an ass."

Beth heard the whispered words, heard Adam grunt in response. Then Mikey was hobbling past her, a small smile on her face.

"Thanks for coming."

Beth nodded, not sure what to say, not sure she'd be able to get the words out even if she did.

And then she was alone in the room, standing there with the stupid bear and balloon in her hand as Adam stared at her.

"Beth."