Chapter 2 - Don’t Take Your Hand Away
Nora waited.
She did not make the mistake everyone else had made.
She did not tell Vincent to relax.
She did not promise that nothing would hurt.
And she did not take another step.
Vincent’s eyes remained fixed on her.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For you.”
His mouth tightened.
Outside the glass wall, Caleb and the others watched in absolute silence.
Nora pointed toward Vincent’s abdomen.
“You control what happens next. Not me.”
Something changed in his expression.
It was small enough that anyone else might have missed it.
Nora did not.
For eleven years, people had probably approached Vincent Mercer as though his fear were an inconvenience to overcome.
She was giving him permission to control the distance.
“Tell me where I can stand,” she said.
His gaze dropped to the blood soaking his shirt.
“Closer.”
Nora moved one step.
Vincent’s breathing accelerated.
She stopped.
“Here?”
Another pause.
“Closer.”
She obeyed.
Three feet separated them now.
Vincent shut his eyes.
His fingers whitened around the bedrail.
Nora could see the scars clearly.
They were not clean surgical scars. They were uneven bands of damaged tissue curling over his ribs and disappearing beneath his shirt.
Fire.
Suddenly, his hatred of touch made terrible sense.
“I’m going to open the gauze,” Nora said.
Vincent opened his eyes.
She did.
“I’m going to raise my right hand.”
She raised it.
“I won’t touch you until you tell me.”
His jaw clenched.
The monitor accelerated.
One hundred thirty-eight beats per minute.
Nora waited.
Vincent stared at her hand.
Then he whispered, “Do it.”
She moved slowly.
The instant her fingertips touched the skin beside the wound, Vincent jerked violently.
His hand shot upward.
Nora thought he was going to strike her.
Instead, he caught her wrist.
His grip was crushing.
Outside, Caleb reached for the door.
Nora looked directly at him through the glass and shook her head.
Stay out.
Then she looked at Vincent.
“You’re in the hospital.”
His pupils were huge.
Smoke did not fill the room.
But Vincent saw it.
“Nobody is burning you,” Nora said quietly.
His grip tightened.
“You’re at Lakeshore Crown.”
His chest heaved.
“My name is Nora.”
Vincent’s eyes found hers.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “Stay here.”
His fingers slowly loosened.
Nora pressed the gauze against his wound.
He flinched.
But he did not fight.
“Good.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
Nora almost smiled.
“There you are.”
His eyebrows drew together.
“If you’re insulting me, you’re still conscious.”
Something that might have been disbelief flickered across his face.
Then his blood pressure alarm sounded again.
Nora’s humor disappeared.
“We need the surgeon.”
“No.”
“Vincent.”
His eyes sharpened at the use of his first name.
“You’re still bleeding internally. I can slow what’s happening out here, but I cannot remove bullets.”
“No one touches me.”
“I’m touching you.”
Silence.
Vincent looked down.
Nora’s palm rested against his chest and ribs, holding the dressing firmly in place.
His expression changed.
Not panic.
Wonder.
As though he had only just realized it.
Nora realized it too.
His heart rate was falling.
Vincent stared at the monitor.
Then at her.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer seemed to disturb him more than a lie would have.
Nora reached toward the intercom.
His hand snapped around hers.
“Don’t.”
“I need the surgical team.”
“Then call them.”
“I am.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
Nora froze.
Vincent Mercer—the man six armed men feared—was looking at her with naked terror.
“Call them,” he whispered. “But don’t take your hand away.”
The words reached everyone outside.
Caleb’s face went still.
Nora swallowed.
“All right.”
She used her free hand to activate the intercom.
“Dr. Patel, come back in.”
The surgeon appeared behind the glass.
Nora gave instructions before he entered.
“One person at a time. Tell him before you touch anything. Nobody restrains him unless I say so.”
Dr. Patel nodded.
For the next twelve minutes, the impossible happened.
Vincent Mercer allowed strangers to save his life.
But only while Nora kept one hand against him.
When the surgeon examined his shoulder, Vincent watched Nora.
When an anesthesiologist placed a mask over his face, Vincent watched Nora.
When another nurse connected blood, Vincent watched Nora.
Every time his breathing accelerated, Nora said his name.
Every time the fire returned to his eyes, she brought him back.
Finally, Dr. Patel looked at her.
“We have to take him upstairs.”
Vincent heard.
His fingers found Nora’s wrist again.
“You’re coming.”
It was not quite a question.
“I’ll stay until you’re under anesthesia.”
“No.”
“Mr. Mercer—”
“You’re coming.”
Nora should have objected.
Instead she looked at the monitor.
Then at the man who had somehow survived eleven years by making himself untouchable.
“I’m coming.”
His eyes closed.
For the first time that night, Vincent stopped fighting.
The surgery lasted four hours.
Nora remained beside him until anesthesia took hold.
Then she returned downstairs, washed blood from her hands, and sat alone in the staff locker room.
She was exhausted.
Her cardigan had Vincent’s blood on it.
Her wrist already carried the faint marks of his fingers.
The door opened.
Melissa entered.
Nora expected an apology.
Instead Melissa said, “You broke protocol.”
Nora stared at her.
“You sent me into a room with a violent patient because you thought my body made me safer to hit.”
Melissa paled.
“I never said that.”
“You practically did.”
“You’re emotional.”
Nora laughed once.
It held no humor.
“No. I’m finally paying attention.”
Melissa crossed her arms.
“Administration will review your behavior.”
“Good.”
Nora stood.
“They can review yours too.”
She walked out.
Caleb was waiting in the corridor.
Nora stopped.
“How is he?”
“Alive.”
Relief escaped her before she could hide it.
Caleb noticed.
“The surgeon says you saved him.”
“The surgeon saved him.”
Caleb shook his head.
“The surgeon couldn’t get near him until you did.”
Nora looked away.
“I did my job.”
Caleb studied her.
Then he held out a small black card.
A telephone number was embossed across it.
“No name.”
“No name needed.”
“I don’t want anything from Mr. Mercer.”
“It isn’t for you.”
Nora frowned.
“Then why give it to me?”
“Because when he wakes up, he’s going to ask for you.”
She almost laughed.
“You can tell him I’m a nurse, not an employee.”
Caleb put the card on the counter.
“You can tell him yourself.”
Nora left it there.
At 7:18 the next morning, Vincent woke in a private recovery suite.
Dr. Patel was standing six feet away.
Caleb sat near the window.
Vincent’s first thought was pain.
His second was a warm hand against his chest.
His eyes moved around the room.
“Where is she?”
Caleb did not pretend not to understand.
“Went home.”
Vincent stared at the empty chair beside his bed.
Something cold and unfamiliar settled inside him.
“Bring her back.”
Caleb hesitated.
“She isn’t one of ours, Vince.”
Vincent turned his head.
“Neither was the woman who burned me.”
Caleb went silent.
Vincent looked at the bandage beneath his shirt.
Eleven years.
Thousands of nights waking with smoke in his lungs.
Eleven years without another person’s skin against his.
And one woman had walked into a room everyone else was fleeing and placed her hand over the ugliest part of him.
He had not burned.
He had breathed.
“Find out everything about her.”
Caleb stood.
Vincent’s gaze hardened.
“Not to use against her.”
That stopped Caleb.
Vincent looked toward the doorway through which Nora had disappeared.
“I want to know why she was the only person I could touch.”
Neither man noticed the figure standing beyond the half-closed door.
Melissa Grant quietly stepped backward.
In her hand was Vincent Mercer’s chart.
And inside it was a detail Nora had never been told.
May you like
Eleven years earlier, after the Mercer lake house fire, a twenty-year-old nursing student had helped pull an unconscious man from the burning building before emergency crews arrived.
Her name had been Nora Bennett.
