The Sinister Silhouette

“I’m Nurse Edith.”

“Luca,” I supply.

“It’s nice to meet you, Luca.” Looking back at the woman, a tender expression appears in her eyes. “It’s good to see someone visiting her. You’re the first one I’ve seen since I’ve been here. Are you her husband?”

“No.”

She looks back at me. “Brother?”

“No. I’m not related to her.”

She frowns and looks back at the woman. “Are you on her list of approved visitors? If not, you’re not supposed to be in here. Only family members or approved persons are permitted to be in patient rooms.”

Ignoring that, I ask, “What’s her name?”

Edith brings her eyes back to me, a look of indecision on her face.

Taking a step closer to her, I plaster on a smile I normally hate using because I detest manipulation. But desperate times and all that shit, and I really need to know this woman’s name.

“Edith,” I say, using a husky tone. “I promise I mean no harm to this woman. I’d just really like to know her name. You make it sound like she rarely gets visitors, so me visiting her is a good thing, right? Means she’s not alone.”

She bites her lip, and I can see the wheels turning in her head on whether she should tell me or not. I know I’m being an ass for trying to persuade her to break the rules. She could be fired if the hospital finds out she willingly gave out confidential information about a patient. But it’s just a name.

I keep my smile in place as she wars with her choice. Thankfully, after a minute she makes the decision in my favor.

“Jules,” she answers kindly.

No last name. I can work with that.

I look away from Edith and down at the woman in the bed. “Jules,” I murmur quietly.

The name is beautiful, and it fits her. She looks like a jewel lying there in a bed of silk. Except this bed of silk is actually cotton.

Keeping my eyes on her, I ask Edith, “What’s wrong with her?”

She moves around to the other side of the bed and adjusts the covers.

“Coma.”

I jerk my head in her direction. “Excuse me?”

She nods and smiles sadly. “Head injury. She’s been in a coma for seven years. There’s brain activity, so she’s not vegetative. Her body just refuses to wake up.”

Fuck, I silently curse to myself. Seven damn years. That’s a long time to be in a coma.

A few minutes later, Edith leaves the room, warning me to not stay long since technically I’m not supposed to be in here.

I look down at the limp hand that’s resting by her hip. Her fingers are slender and delicate. Reaching out, I lay the tips of my fingers on the back of her hand. I’ve tried so many times to touch her in my dreams, but something always stops me. The second my fingers graze her skin, a bolt of electricity zaps me. I don’t know if it’s static or some other kind of weird force. My eyes spring to her face, half expecting her to be awake from the shock of awareness. Her eyes are still closed, and it looks like she’s simply sleeping.

“Who are you?” I ask the question I’ve asked so many times in my dreams.

And just like every other time, I get the same answer in return.

Silence.

CHAPTER FOUR

Luca