Bright. That was the first message her brain sent her even before she’d opened her eyes. Blinding light stabbed at her irises, and she clamped her lids down with a wince. Why was someone shining a torch at her?
‘Libs?’ Beth’s voice came from somewhere to her right, and she rolled her head towards the sound, regretting it instantly as the queasy feeling in her stomach kicked into overdrive.
‘Feel sick,’ she managed to get out before a strong arm was hooked behind her and she emptied the meagre contents of her stomach into a cardboard tray shoved in front of her in the nick of time. Shuddering against the bitter taste in her mouth, Libby risked a glance through her tangled fringe to see her worst fear realised as her eyes met Owen’s worried gaze. Great, just great; such a glamorous look puking your guts up in front of your incredibly sexy boyfriend. A hot flush rippled through her and she swallowed hard against another bout of nausea. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Nothing to be sorry about.’ He eased her back against a pile of hard square pillows before putting the tray somewhere out of her line of sight. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like I got hit by a truck which then reversed over me for good measure.’ She accepted a glass of water with a straw from him and sipped a little, grateful to wash the bile away. ‘My hand hurts,’ She flexed it against a tight pull across her skin, only then registering there was a drip taped to it, a clear tube snaking from it towards a stand beside the bed. ‘I’m in hospital?’
‘You keeled over at Beth’s.’ Owen’s fingers fluttered over her hair, barely touching as he smoothed back her lank fringe. ‘Gave yourself a right whack on the coffee table as you went down.’ Libby raised her hand towards her forehead only for him to capture it and ease it back onto the crisp white sheets. ‘Don’t touch, you’ve had a couple of stitches.’
‘What happened?’ She glanced from Owen to Beth. ‘The last thing I remember is Sam coming in with those lovely looking hors d’oe—oh, Beth! I’ve ruined your party.’ Mortification flooded her veins. She’d never fainted in her life before, and what a bloody time to pick for her first swan dive.
‘Shh, don’t be silly. No one cares about that, we just want to make sure you’re all right. I’ll let the nurse know that you’re awake.’ Rising from her seat, Beth disappeared behind the blue and white flowered curtain.
As though she’d broken some kind of spell, Libby became aware of the noises coming from the other side of the little blue cocoon. Muffled voices in hushed conversations, the squeak of someone’s shoes on the hard-tiled floor and from somewhere to her left the regular hush-hush of some kind of breathing apparatus.
‘Do you want another drink?’ Owen offered the water to her again, but she shook her head. Her stomach still didn’t feel too clever and the last thing she wanted was to be sick in front of him again.
‘I must look a fright.’
Bending to kiss the top of her head, Owen smiled. ‘You look great. The perfect shade of ghostly white if you were in the mood to revisit your teenage Goth roots.’
That earned him a laugh which quickly changed into a groan as her head began to throb again. She raised her hand in an automatic reflex only to have him stop her once more before she could touch her tender scalp.
When he laid her hand back down, he kept it trapped beneath his own, his thumb stroking back and forth across her knuckles. ‘You scared the shit out of me, Libs.’ The huskiness in his voice called her attention from their joined hands up to his face. Thick lines of worry marred his normally smooth forehead, and for the first time she noticed the streak of blood down the front of his pale-blue shirt.
‘Oh no, I made a mess of your shirt.’
He glanced down as though unaware of the stain, then back up to her. ‘You bled like a stuck pig. Thankfully the paramedic said that was quite usual for scalp wounds. They were brilliant actually—the same crew who sorted out Noah when he hurt himself that time on the rocks.’
‘They’ll have to start offering us a friends and family discount at this rate.’ It was a weak attempt at a joke, but she couldn’t bear the worry etched into his face. ‘I’m okay, Owen, really.’
‘Thank you, Doctor Stone, but I think I’ll wait for a proper medical opinion, if you don’t mind. You were pretty out of it in the ambulance. Do you remember any of that?’
Libby almost shook her head before stopping herself in the nick of time. ‘No. Like I said, I remember Sam coming in the room and then nothing until I woke up just now.’
The curtain rings jangled on the rail as the material was swept open and a smiling nurse in a burgundy and white uniform approached, Beth close on her heels. ‘Ah, you’re back with us then? Let’s take a look at you.’
She bustled around, checking Libby’s drip and the monitoring screens behind her and then finally Libby herself. ‘Your friend said you vomited?’
‘Yes. When I first woke up.’
‘Hmm. Well the doctor will be along in a few minutes, but you might have a concussion from the bump you took to your head. Are you still feeling sick?’
Libby nodded, then winced. ‘I really need to stop moving my head.’ Sucking in a deep breath to settle her stomach, she met the nurse’s kind gaze. ‘A bit queasy, but not like I need to be sick, if that makes sense?’
The nurse smiled. ‘I know what you mean. Have you managed a little drink?’ Libby pursed her lips at the thought. ‘I can get you a few ice chips, if you’d rather? That’ll keep your mouth fresh without having to swallow anything if you don’t feel like it.’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
‘All right, Ms Stone, I’ll be right back with those and the doctor. You just relax, and we’ll get you sorted out in no time.’