Heroes (Hollywood Heartthrobs #1) (5 page)

          Deciding she
had exhausted her ability to discover information on her own, she turned her
attention again to the man.

“Um,
hello?” she said tentatively. The pattern of his snoring changed slightly, but
then resumed. Well, this is awkward, she thought. Great, so I’m
self-deprecating, chalk that up in the things-I-know column.

“Um,
you!” she said, a little louder. She had no idea what the man’s name was, and
therefore wasn’t sure what she should call him. “Um, man over there! Chair guy!
Little help here!” She raised her voice with each new sentence. This guy slept
like he was dead as a doornail.

“Hey!”
she fairly shouted. Still the soft snoring. Well, she thought ruefully, this
can’t get much more awkward, and in for a penny, in for a pound (she wasn’t
quite sure why, but that seemed like something she would say). She removed the
clipboard from its hanger, held it steady in her good arm for a moment, then
gently but firmly chucked it at the man in the chair.

****

Dean
didn’t remember falling asleep, but years of playing a character who was often
reduced to tears over the lamentable mortality of his non-vampire associates
had taught him that crying is exhausting work. He must have fallen asleep in
the chair next to the girl’s bed, because that is where he woke with a sudden
start. More exactly, he woke with what later proved to be a clipboard hitting
him in the forehead.

“What
the?!” he exclaimed, putting a hand to his head.

A
lovely voice, almost singsong in its apologetic tone answered him. “Um, sorry?”
Suddenly where he was and how he got there hit him far more forcefully than the
clipboard had. He jumped up out of the chair.

“You’re
awake!” Relief and panic flooded him equally. Relief that she was awake, and panic
that she would remember what he had done.

“It
would seem so,” she said with a smile. Dean fought back the tears that
threatened to start all over again. Looking at the woman in blue smile at him
with those green eyes (and dimples, he noted), he had never been so happy and
so terrified at once.

“I…”
words were failing him. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Yeah,
well, me too,” she said, grinning at his enthusiasm for her ability to regain
consciousness. Damn, she thought, he was way more handsome awake than asleep.

Expectant
silence crept up between them, each unsure of what to say next.

Dean
stood waiting for the ax to fall as she took a moment to find her verbal
footing. “Um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something?”
she asked finally.

It
was not what Dean had expected out of the woman who had nearly been killed
saving something more precious to him than his own life, but it would do. He’d
swearing undying fealty to her right about now if she commanded it.

“What’s
that?” he asked stupidly. Like the joy and fear, he felt at once completely
confident in her presence and terribly wrong-footed.

“Can
you tell me how I got here?” The question was asked artlessly, in an almost
businesslike way, as if she was asking him advice on how to assemble a piece of
furniture.

Oh
Jesus
, Dean thought.
She doesn’t remember the accident
!
A small, terrible part of him cheered that he might escape the judgement he so
richly deserved for putting Alec in harm’s way.

“You
mean, how you came to be in this hospital room? There was an accident, you were
hit by a car.”

“Yes,
sorry, I got that from the clipboard,” she said, gesturing to the clipboard now
on the floor. “I mean, before that?”

“Before
you were hit?” Dean asked, suddenly confused.

She
took a breath in. “Before I was hit, before today, basically I could use some
help filling in the blanks of everything before I woke up in this room three
minutes ago.”

“Wait,
you don’t remember the accident… or anything before it?”

“Precisely,”
she said in that same businesslike fashion. Even the terrible part of Dean
stopped cheering. “My name is Jane Doe and I was in an accident earlier which
ended in a broken arm and a serious bump on the head. All I know is I woke up
in this room and read what’s on that clipboard I hit you with. Sorry again, by
the way. I was hoping you could tell me more.”

Who
the hell is this woman?
Dean thought. She dives in front
of buses to save children and can calmly state that she doesn’t know who she is
like it’s no big deal. He was speechless in front of such serene bravery.

“I
should go get someone,” he answered after an awful pause. “Wait here.”

          “Okay, I’m
not going anywhere,” she said. Again, she lacked much of a frame of reference,
but something told her this was not normal behavior she was seeing from chair
guy. Apparently what he got in looks he lacked in brains. He hurried out of the
room and down the hall.

          Dean vaguely
recalled a nurses’ station at the end of the hallway near the elevators. He
caught a glimpse of a clock on the wall. It was a little after midnight. There
was no one at the nurses’ station, and Dean began to shout for help. Nurse
Freeman materialized as if by magic.

          “What is it?”
she asked imperiously. She was all business, and hers was a business of life
and death.

          “The woman,
from the accident. She’s awake!” Dean blurted out, already attempting to steer
the nurse down the hallway.

          “Good.” She
said, “I’ll be by to check on her in a bit, and I know the neurologist will
want to speak to her first thing in the morning.”

          “No.” Dean
said. “You don’t understand, you have to come now.”

          Nurse Freeman
was very good at her job, and she read the panic in Dean’s face. Something was
very wrong, and he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain what. That meant bad news for
any patient. “Alright then,” she said decisively. “We’ll go now.”

          Jane Doe was
sitting up as far as her arm would allow when Dean and the nurse came back into
the room.

          “Well, we’re
glad to have you with us, young lady. I’m Nurse Freeman.”

          “I’m Jane,”
she said, relieved to be conversing with someone who seemed to have her wits
about her.

          Nurse Freeman
smiled. “Well, that’s a funny thing. I’ve never had a Jane Doe actually turn
out to be a Jane before.”

          “Sorry?” Jane
asked.

          “Your name,
we had you down as a Jane Doe because we didn’t know who you were. It’s funny
that we were right all along,” the nurse explained, trying to ignore the hairs
standing up on the back of her neck.

          “What do you
mean you didn’t know who I was? It’s right here: Jane Doe,” she answered. Was
everyone crazy in this place? She wondered.

          Nurse Freeman
stopped for a moment, and chose her next words carefully. “Did you see your
name when you read that sheet?”

          Jane’s eyes
went wide. “Yes. Is that bad?”

          Nurse Freeman
pursed her lips. “No, it’s perfectly alright, Jane. But, do I then take it that
you don’t remember anyone calling you Jane Doe before today?”

          “How did you
know that?”

          “That isn’t
important. What can you tell me about yourself? Where do you live, for
example?”

          “Well, that’s
the thing. I’m not really sure. I just woke up here and can’t really remember
anything. I saw my name and the circumstances of my injuries on the sheet. I
tried to ask him,” she waved vaguely at Dean, “but he just ran off to get you.
I’m not really sure what’s going on here.”

          Nurse Freeman
made a quick decision. It was hours before the neurologist, or any of the
psychiatrists for that matter, would arrive. She took a breath and said, as
calmly as possible (which, given her decades of experience in nursing, was very
calm indeed), “he didn’t tell you anything because he doesn’t know either. You
were struck this afternoon, technically yesterday afternoon at this point, by a
truck near Lake Shore Drive. He helped pull you away from it. He had never seen
you before. There was no identification on you when you arrived. We were hoping
you could tell us who you are. You see, Jane Doe is a name we assign to
patients when we are unable to ascertain their names.” She paused for a moment
to let the announcement sink in. “Do you understand what I’ve just told you?”

          The woman
thought for a moment before answering. When she felt sure she could trust her
voice, she answered. “Yes. I understand. I came to the hospital and no one knew
who I was, now I don’t seem to know either.”

          “Correct,”
Nurse Freeman said simply. “This has sometimes been known to happen to patients
with head injuries. The neurologist will be able to talk with you more in the
morning. For now, I would suggest you try to rest. If you need anything, the
red button over the bed will ring the nurses’ station.” She turned to go,
thinking this would be one hell of a report to leave for the morning shift.

          Jane, or at
least the woman now thinking of herself as Jane, was silent after the nurse’s
departure. She had nearly forgotten the man was even there until he sat back
down in the chair, staring at the floor. She took another few seconds to sift
through the implications of Nurse Freeman’s announcement before she spoke to
him.

          “What’s your
name?” she asked.

          He turned and
looked into those unforgettable green eyes. “Dean,” he answered. “Dean
Everett.”

          “Nice to meet
you, Dean Everett, and thank you for saving my life,” she said.

          “Thank you?”
he repeated, stunned.

          Jane
responded amazingly nonplussed. “Well, according to the nurse I was hit by a
truck. It seems a bump on the head and a broken arm is a pretty fortunate
outcome for someone involved in such an accident. She also said you pulled me
away from it. It would stand to reason that if not for someone pulling me away
from it, I would be much worse off, possibly dead. So, again, thank you for
saving my life.” As she spoke, a wide, artless, absolutely beautiful smile
filled her face. It was a smile of complete sincerity, gratitude, warmth, and
affection. Dean had seen countless would-be Hollywood starlets try to fake smiles
like that. The woman who could would win an Oscar. He thought he would sell his
soul to keep her smiling like that at him. Then he thought that by not telling
her the truth, that was very nearly what he was doing.

          “Um, you’re
welcome,” he answered lamely. “What should I call you?”

          “Well, it
says Jane on the clipboard, and that seems as good a name as any other. We are
well met, Dean. I’m Jane.”

          “It suits
you,” he responded, still mesmerized by that dazzlingly simple smile.

          “Another
question, Dean. Why did you stay? Until I woke up, I mean, it must have been
hours.”

          “I… I needed
to know that you were okay.”

          She laughed.
“I’m not sure ‘okay’ is how I would describe myself right about now, but I’m
alive, thanks to you.” She gave a large, fake sigh. “My hero.” She said it with
such overblown, Disney Princess conviction Dean laughed too, in spite of
himself. Being in Jane’s waking presence was, in itself, such a comfort to him
that he could feel the tension of the past hours start to fade. “So, what
happens now?” she asked. “It’s late, I would imagine there’s someone waiting up
for you.”

          “My brother
actually, I’m staying with him and his family while I’m here in Chicago.” He
had pushed Nate, not to mention Tucker and Alec, out of his mind while he
waited in the hospital. “He’ll probably be expecting to hear from me. Excuse me
a second.”

          Dean stepped
out into the hallway, feeling a surge of reluctance to leave Jane alone for
even a minute. He was afraid to break the spell of comfortable companionship
that had been suddenly woven around them. Pulling out his phone in the darkened
hallway, he saw a dozen missed calls from Nate and Samantha. He must have
turned it to silent as some point in the endless hours of yesterday. He debated
calling so late, but eventually decided it was worth the risk of waking them.

          He called
Nate’s cell, and was answered on the first ring.

          “Dean?! Are
you alright?” Nate’s voice was choked with emotion. It broke Dean’s heart anew
to hear how he had worried his little brother. How could a moment of his
carelessness cause such a ripple effect on the people he loved?

          “Nate, I’m
here. I’m okay. I’m still at the hospital.”

          “You sound
exhausted. Do you need me to come get you?”

          “No, Nate,
it’s okay, everything’s fine, I’m fine. How are the boys?”

          “Well, they
were understandably pretty upset, but they’re both safe, which is most
important. And kids are resilient to being frightened. They were both shaken up
when I got them home, but Samantha worked her mom magic to take care of them.
She finally got them both to sleep in our bed, then I finally got her to sleep
in there with them.”