Thank you seemed like too small a phrase for the appreciation I had for the gruff stranger sitting silent in my room. It should have felt weird or wrong to have him in there, but for some reason, it felt right. When he’d walked back out to the hallway, the room had felt empty without him. Maybe being alone was just not something that was possible for me to do.

After a few minutes, Bear pointed to my ring finger. “Would you like me to call your husband?”

I forced a laugh. “He doesn’t deserve to know I’m alive.” Sliding the gold bands off my finger, I held them out for him to take. “These should be able to pay for the repairs on my motorcycle.” He opened his hand, letting my drop the jewelrys into his palm.

He rolled the diamond ring around in his fingertips. “I have a feeling this rock could buy you two new hogs, darlin’.”

I threw my hands in the air as he tried to hand them back to me. “Those are as good as a noose around my neck. Please, just take them.”

He slid the bands into the inside pocket of his cut. I was no stranger to outlaws; my father had worn a cut for as long as I could remember. As my mind tripped back to him, Bear’s voice broke through my remembrances.

“I’d settle for just your name, darlin’.”

My eyes snapped to his as they bore holes in me. I was in a slight haze from the morphine drip I was on and the pain I was fighting to ignore.

“Scarlett Keen.” I felt my words linger as my tongue formed each syllable individually.

Bear put his hand on mine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scarlett.”

I let my fingers naturally slide between his. The rough, calloused skin of his large hand felt comforting as I rolled my head back, embracing the simple touch of the kind stranger. The rational side of me knew this situation was incredibly strange, knew I should be on high alert with this one-percenter in my presence, but I couldn’t have cared less. There was something all too comforting about Bear.

With my eyes shut, I sat there with my hand cradled in Bear’s. “What time did you find me?”

“The middle of the night. I’m not quite sure on exactly what time, but it was late as hell,” he answered.

“I can’t believe that bastard ran me off the road,” I said, more to myself than to Bear.

“Do you know who did this?” A sharp edge laced his question.

I shook my head slowly, I didn’t want to admit it to myself, much less a damn stranger that my husband was the culprit. “They’re called accidents for a reason, Bear. Ask me something else.”

“Like what?” His grip on my hand tightened.

“Anything. I don’t care. Just distract me.” My voice was weakening as I fought a wave of pain.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“What’s your favorite dessert?”

I smiled thinking about my brother’s apple pie then licked my lips before answering, “Homemade apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream melting on top.”

“Damn that sounds delicious.” I could hear the smile on his face.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my brother’s apple pie. It’s like angels kiss your taste buds after every damn bite.

“That sounds like an experience and a half.”

I nodded. “Don’t stop asking me things.” My head rolled to the side as my eyes opened into little slits. I slowly took in Bear’s features as he continued to rattle off question after question. His dark brown eyes had a black ring around the irises and when he smiled, they smiled too. He had worry lines on his forehead and deep crow’s feet around his eyes. His full beard had flecks of red and the slightest wisps of silver. I could tell the years had not been kind to him, and that he was about ten years my senior. There was something so captivating about the low timbre of his voice and the depth of his gaze.

“What’s your favorite sport?”

“Baseball, but only in person. I hate watching it on TV. I need to feel the energy of the crowd and smell the fresh-cut grass.”

A light tap echoed in the small room. A nurse walked in, her sneakers squeaking with every step she took. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Keen?” she asked, gripping my chart in her hands.

I tried to keep my eyes open but the pain forced me to slam them shut. “Ooooohhhhhhh!” I exclaimed as I gripped Bear’s hand tighter.

“That bad, huh? You must be the husband.”

I heard words catching in Bear’s throat as he tried to figure out what to tell her.

“Yes, he is,” I spit out before he could say otherwise. There was no way I wanted Jasper to be considered my husband. In less than twenty-four hours, Bear had been kinder to me and shown me more compassion than Jasper had in our entire relationship.

The nurse rattled off a bunch of things to Bear about my condition in such a rapid succession that I couldn’t follow her in the slightest. To me, she was an adult and I was a damn Peanut’s character.

She squeaked her way out of the room and I felt Bear’s lips brush the back of my hand. “As much as I hate to leave your side, wifey”—he laughed a little during a lingering pause—“I really need to take a shower, get a few hours of sleep, and make sure my guys aren’t fuckin’ up too terribly at the shop.”

I groaned, grabbing for his hand as he started to get up from his chair. “Do you have to? I really don’t want you to leave.” I already felt the stinging of loneliness biting at my heart.

“I’m afraid so, darlin’. I’ll be back to check on you tonight.” He folded the business card into my hand before kissing the backs of my fingers. “My cell number is on there. You can call me at any time and I can be here within ten minutes if you need me.”