Faery Godlover

Twenty-minutes later, Rose found herself perched on the bedside of an incapacitated man in a Cleveland hospital, waiting anxiously for him to wake up. The nurses had cut his shirt and jacket off of him, so that he lay there shirtless, his muscular chest heaving. They found his wallet and pulled out his identification and registered him into the system.

A resident doctor came and examined him briefly. The nurses grilled Rose again about her relationship with the man. They also tried to pry his hand off of Rose’s, but were unsuccessful. The nurses and the doctor decided to wait until he was conscious.

So Rose sat there for almost an hour, waiting. The man still held on to her and her hand was starting to cramp. She hoped her parents weren’t worried about her taking so long to get back home. With her free hand, she sent her mother a text message:

Something came up. Please don’t worry. Tell the girls I’ll be home for a late dinner. Love you.

Rose received a barrage of concerned text messages back from both her mother and father, who had a thousand questions. She sighed. No matter how old she got, her parents would always worry about her. Rapidly firing off replies, she tried to assuage their fears and assure them that all was well.

As she stowed her phone back into her purse, the man beside her groaned. Rose yelped in surprise. He was finally waking up!

“Oh God,” she muttered. “Sh-should I get somebody? Where’s the nurse?”

Just as she was frantically reaching for the nurse call button, the man squeezed her hand and she looked back at him to see his eyes opening. Her jaw dropped.

He had the most beautiful, enchanting eyes, approximately the color of wild honey. Rose had never seen anyone with eyes like that. She didn’t even know it was possible.

The man blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked weakly, his voice deep and rasping.

“Rose. Rose Meyers. I-I found you unconscious in an alley and called an ambulance. You’re at Mercy

Hospital,” she replied, a little breathlessly. Her heart skipped a beat. Good Lord, he was handsome even in this state.

“So, you saved me,” he murmured, a strangely bemused expression crossing his features as he gently released her hand from his grasp.

Before she could reply, a resident doctor and two nurses burst into the room and began fussing over him. “Joseph Sanford, age thirty-one,” the doctor read aloud from his chart. “Do you recall what happened to you, sir?”

He shook his head, clearly holding something back. “No. I have no recollection of how I got here. The last thing I remember is leaving my house to go buy groceries, and then I woke up here. With this woman holding my hand,” he added, looking over at Rose with affectionate eyes.

She blushed.

“Did someone do this to you? Were you robbed?”

“No. I don’t think so. I don’t remember.”

“We’ll need to notify the police because of the circumstances when you were found.”

“Ah. I see.”

“We also need to run some tests on you. Another set of bloodwork. CT scan. And depending on the tests; we might need to keep you overnight for observation. I’ll come back later with the results,” said the doctor.

“Thank you, doctor,” answered the man.

The doctor and nurses filed back out, leaving the two of them alone in the room again. Rose’s heart pounded in her chest as the man’s striking golden eyes landed on her.

“Your quick thinking saved my life,” he commented matter-of-factly.

“Anyone would have done the same,” Rose replied, shrugging. She couldn’t help but feel small and girlish under his gaze. He was enormous—heavily muscled and clearly powerful. Even though he was the one lying in a hospital bed, she felt vulnerable under his sharp gaze.

Like he could see right through her. No, like he could see the real her.

But that was absurd, she reminded herself. They’d only just met.

“What’s your name, Miss…?”

“Rose. Rose Meyers. I’m not a Miss. It’s Mrs. But I’m not married anymore, we’re just divorced. I’m single,” Rose blundered like a fool. She was usually calm and confident but this man made her suffer a verbal fumble.

“Rose. That’s a beautiful name.” He smiled.