Breanna had talked him into getting hundred-dollar tickets to a rodeo the night of his crash and of course, clothes to go with the date, but he’d never made it home to change. Now he felt like an imposter dressed up as a cowboy.

The one time he’d been awake enough to talk to Breanna on the hospital phone, she’d let him know how mad she was about him standing her up for their rodeo date. She also mentioned the moving van with all their junk would be on its way back to Georgia and she planned to ride along.

If he wanted any of his stuff, he could collect it the next time he was there. Since she’d picked out most of the household essentials, she considered everything more hers than his. Just before she’d hung up, his fiancée said she’d stuffed her engagement ring in the chest pocket of his work overalls.

He must have decided to go back in a coma about then because days later when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t remember much else of what she’d said.

If the hospital hadn’t saved his wallet and phone when they cut off his bloody clothes, she probably would have taken them as well. The cell was dead, but a few hundred dollars were still in his wallet.

He was in too much pain to think, so he gave up on time and dates completely. Hell, he didn’t even care what year it was.

Now and then, one of the nurses would wake him up and ask him what his name was. If he got that right, they’d move on to, “Do you know the date?” like it was some kind of trick question.

How could he explain that he didn’t know or care? The last construction site he’d worked on had relocated inside his brain, and the noise was blocking everything out.

As the sun started to set behind the buildings of downtown Houston, McCoy frowned, trying to recall Breanna part by part. Her hair was soft. Her breasts were rounded. Her mouth was always moving.

He grinned, remembering another one of his dad’s sayings. He’d lecture, “Son, the right girl for you is the one who says ‘yes.’ Don’t build up your hopes on more.”

Night was moving across the huge parking lot, and McCoy didn’t bother to care. He didn’t have enough money in his pocket to start over, and no one was picking him up. He’d inherited being a loner from his dad. No sense making friends you’ll just leave behind.