She was clutching the bag the nurse had provided for her to stow her personal belongings like her glasses, phone, and ID. Everything was pretty blurry, but even she could see that she was very pale, and her eyes seemed huge in her face. Embarrassment and humiliation did that to a person.

A freaking panic attack . . . Gah. She now needed a chocolate bar more than she needed her next breath, and considering she almost died from lack of oxygen due to panic, that was saying something.

A tall, lanky, lean guy stood in front of the machine, hands on either side of it as he gave the thing a hard shake.

A candy bar came loose and he caught it, shoving it into one of his cargo pants pockets.

Pockets that looked already quite full.

She couldn’t see well enough to know which kid of candy bar he got, but it didn’t matter because she liked all the candy bars in all the land. “Hey,” she said. “Save some for the paying customers.”

He turned to face her, his light brown wavy hair falling into his eyes, and . . . something made her fumble into her plastic bag for her glasses. Self-preservation, maybe, because her instincts were screaming. Clearly not a common occurrence for her, or she wouldn’t always be able to detonate her life so thoroughly. When she got her glasses on, the world came into focus again and she breathed a short-lived sigh of relief.

Short-lived because though she hadn’t seen Eli Thomas since they were both fifteen, she did indeed know him.

“I put money into the machine,” he said. His expression was tight, as if he was highly stressed. And given where they were, in the ER hallway, he in all likelihood was highly stressed. “Lots of money, in fact . . .” Stopping, he cocked his head, recognition crossing his face. His eyes softened and he smiled, flashing white teeth and a dimple in his left cheek. “Hey.” His voice was different now. Lower, quiet, like the one you used with people you knew. It was also filled with emotion. “It’s been awhile.”

True story. It had been awhile. But not long enough. And in the bad news department, the dimple and smile were still attractive and charismatic as hell, but the good news was that she’d learned how to shut her heart off. She gave him a vague smile, like she didn’t remember him.

He arched a brow.

Ignoring this because they so weren’t going there, she gestured that he should stand back because it was her turn at the vending machine. She pulled a wrinkled dollar from her pocket and tried to shove it into the slot. She could feel the weight of his stare. He wanted her to recognize him. She was still going with no thank you.

The machine spit her dollar back at her.

“You have to straighten it out first.”