The nurses a Mercy Hospital shuffled in and out of Quentin’s room every thirty minutes. It was as if they needed to check vital signs around the clock. Phoebe sat in a chair on the side of his bed watching him sleep. From the looks of his restful slumber and solid physique, you couldn’t tell he had slightly bruised ribs.

She traced his dark brown features, strong nose, smooth skin, and thick brows. The groomed hair around his mouth connected with his close-cropped beard, and his locks were pulled back off his carved structural face. Phoebe had been in her office poring over mountains of paperwork when Jordan had walked in suddenly with alarm written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked, instantly clutching the paper in her hand.

“It’s Quentin, he’s been in an accident.”

It was all she’d needed to hear. Phoebe’s heart had dropped, and she stood quickly and grabbed her coat, leaving her phone, purse, and shoes sitting by the desk.

“You should at least put some shoes on,” Jordan said.

Phoebe glanced down then around the room mechanically, then robotically walked back to her shoes to claim them. From there she’d followed him to the elevator, but it wouldn’t come fast enough so she evaded her spot for the stairs.

“Phoebe!” Jordan had called after her. But she kept moving with her mind in a fog at what could’ve happened to him. Jordan had caught up with her, but Phoebe’s feet never stop running.

“I’m driving,” Jordan said, noticing his sister’s visibly shaken demeanor. He coached her to the car, and although she’d asked him questions about the accident, she numbly stared off into space until their arrival at the hospital.

Phoebe turned to the TV that hung on the wall then back to him. She’d been there an hour, and he’d slept soundly ever since. She reached out to him and squeezed his hand. Phoebe needed to know that he was okay. He looked fine, great actually for someone who’d been hit by a car, but not hearing it from his voice made Phoebe’s chest tightened, and now Phoebe wished she had answered his phone calls.

What if he didn’t make it? God forbid, what if he died? Phoebe’s eyes watered, and the squeezing in her throat made her clasp his hand again. When his eyes fluttered open, Phoebe held her breath and spoke.

“Quentin?”

His long lashes fluttered again, and a deep whisper strummed from his voice, “Hey, baby girl.”

Phoebe exhaled a long breath, and her head fell onto the edge of his bed. Quentin glanced around the room, then squinted and stretched his eyes.

“We’re in the hospital.”

It wasn’t a question, just his solid observation. Phoebe glanced up at him, and Quentin’s brows knocked together in a frown.

“Why are you crying?” he asked.

Phoebe held on to his hand while dabbing at her eyes with the back of her other hand.

“You have no idea, do you?”

Quentin looked around again then sat forward.

“Wait!” Phoebe said, standing to stop him from moving. Quentin peered up at her.

“Why am I in the hospital? And Why does— aah!” he said, biting down on his teeth. “What…?” Quentin thought over the last thing he remembered.

The coffee shop, Amber, the Volkswagen.

“Please lay back down,” Phoebe said.

Quentin sat back against the hospital mattress just as the door swung open, and Amber traipsed through the door. Her eyes widened upon seeing Quentin awake, and her hands flew to her mouth.

“Quentin…” she whispered sharply, muffling her voice with the cover of her hand. Amber walked over to stand on the other side of his bed. Phoebe’s brow rose just as Amber noticed her holding his hand. “Um, I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I didn’t mean to barge in like that. I’m just so glad to see you up. Jesus Christ, what are you Clark Kent?”

“Phoebe, this is Amber. Amber, this is Phoebe,” he said, making the introductions as fast as possible.

“Hi.” Amber stuck her hand out to shake Phoebe’s.

“How are you?” Phoebe returned her gesture then pulled her focus back to Quentin. “You scared me to death,” she said. “I could kick your ass.”

Quentin cocked his head to the side. “You were just sitting there crying now you’re cursing me out?”

“Damn right,” she said. “What were you thinking running into the street like that? You could’ve been killed!”

Quentin’s gaze softened. “Is that what you were worried about?”

Phoebe bit down on her teeth then pursed her lips.

“What is wrong with you?” she repeated.

“If I may,” Amber said, cutting in, “it was my fault.” Amber looked at Quentin. “This time it was me not watching where I was going. I must be bad luck.”

“Then why are you still here?” Phoebe snapped.

Both Quentin and Amber looked at Phoebe with wide eyes.

“I’m… um, you’re right, I should leave.” Amber took her attention back to Quentin. “Quentin, I’m so sorry again, please send me your medical bills, and I’d be glad to pay them.”

“That’s not necessary,” Quentin said, finally turning to Amber.

Amber nodded profusely. “In that case, I’ll take a hike.” Amber moved to the door and disappeared quickly.

Taking his gaze back to Phoebe, a slow drugging smile spread across his face. “You know it turns me on when you pop off like that.”

Phoebe gave him an evil eye, peering down at him with her brow stretched out.

“That does, too,” he said. “Is this what it takes for me to get your attention? I’ve got to get hit by a car?”

“Or dropped out of a plane,” Phoebe joked with a straight face.

Quentin laughed and moved quickly. A shot of excruciating pain ran through his abdomen. “Arrgh!” he growled.

“Be careful!” Phoebe said, reaching out to hold him steady. “My goodness, why are you going around trying to be Superman?”

“If I hadn’t shoved her, she would be dead,” he said plainly.

Phoebe huffed. “You could be dead. Who is she, do you know her?”

“Not really?” he said.

“What does that even mean?”

“She’s a fan,” he said, “and she was talking my head off when she stepped into traffic.”

The door opened, and a doctor trailed through.

“Mr. Davidson, I’m Doctor Bradshaw, how are you feeling?”

“Like a gladiator,” Quentin said.

Dr. Bradshaw smirked. “You’re built like one, too.”

Quentin glanced at Phoebe standing beside him with pursed lips, and he winked.

“Please don’t stroke his ego, Doctor,” she said.

“It’s true, any normal person would be in the hospital a few days after an accident like that. But miraculously, you’ve just got a little bruising. Nothing a day or two at home couldn’t heal. Just take your time getting around. It may be nice for you to hire some help if you don’t already have some.”

“So am I free to go, Doctor?”

“Not just yet. We’ll let you sit for a while then come back and check up on you. At that time, if you’re doing fine, we’ll consider letting you go.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Phoebe said.

Dr. Bradshaw nodded. “Get some rest,” he said, leaving the way he’d come.

Quentin pulled his shirt up and glanced down at his bruised abdomen.

“Oh my God,” Phoebe said, bracing from the darkness of it.

“It’s not that bad,” Quentin said. “It’s just a small bruise; you worry too much. I’ll be good.”

Phoebe wasn’t so sure.

“Thank you for coming to check on me,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I never want anything to happen to you.”

They stared at one another.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Phoebe sat slowly, dropping her weight in the chair she’d previously occupied.

“Because I’ve been busy.”

“Too busy to accept a phone call from me?”

“Was it an emergency?”

Quentin considered her for a long time before Phoebe couldn’t take any more of his heated gaze.

“What?” she said.

“What do you want from me, Phoebe?”

Phoebe dropped her mouth open to speak, but nothing came out. She considered his question while he waited for an honest answer.

“Nothing,” she said finally.

“Now that’s not fair,” he said.

“What isn’t?”

“Telling lies right to my face.”

Phoebe sighed.

“I may not be able to give you what you want,” he said.

Phoebe rose from her seat. She didn’t want to hear this same rhetoric.

“But, I’m willing to try.”

She turned to him. “What?”

This time Quentin let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not perfect, Phoebe Alexandria Rose, not like you. My flaws run deeper than you know, and I’m not sure being with me is what you need, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try it out, if you’re willing to risk it.”

He pulled his lips between his teeth.

“Nobody’s perfect,” she said, “not even me. But I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“See, there you go, putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m not, I’m just merely stating facts.”

“Because you’re a fact checker?”

“You know it.”

Quentin chuckled and reached out for her hand. Their fingers mixed, bringing their palms together. The door to his room opened, and Jordan walked inside. He looked from Quentin to Phoebe, then to the connection of their hands. Slowly, his eyes crept back over to Quentin.

“I guess you’re feeling better,” he said a bit frosty. “Phoebe, do you mind if I holla at my boy for a minute?”

Phoebe cut her eyes at Jordan. “As long as it has nothing to do with my business,” she said.

Jordan glanced from her to Quentin.

“Your business, huh?”

“Jordan…” Phoebe said, biting down on her teeth.

“Phoebe,” Quentin called. She looked at him with a frown. “Give us a minute.”

Phoebe hesitated, and she tensed. She was going to murder Jordan if he thought about mentioning them holding hands.

Without another word, she walked around the bed and left the room.

Jordan walked up on Quentin. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”