But that had been a while back. High school? College? Some other time? He didn’t know. Couldn’t call it up. But it was there, buried and not that deep. Slowly, bit by bit, his injured brain was beginning to remember a bit. Maybe when he got home, settled back in, he would recall more about Megan, how involved they were, why they’d been fighting, what had happened. He raked a hand through his hair, touched the edge of his bandage, and felt a slice of pain. He glanced at the clock.

Twenty more minutes, possibly twenty-five.

Along with the rattling of a cart in the hallway, he heard footsteps, and suddenly Doctor Monroe was back. “I hear you want to get out of here.”

“You heard right,” James said.

Monroe frowned. “It wouldn’t hurt to stay another night.”

“I need to get home.”

If the doctor thought about arguing, he kept it to himself. “If that’s the way you want it.”

“I do.”

With a nod, Monroe said, “Then I’ll leave you with some prescriptions and talk to admin about your discharge papers. You’ll probably have to jump through a few hoops. Insurance and all that.”

“All right.”

“No driving for a few weeks, until I give you the green light,” he added, and James wanted to argue, but didn’t. It wasn’t as if he had a vehicle at his disposal anyway. “And I want to see you this coming week. Make an appointment. If anything doesn’t seem right, call immediately.”

“Fine.”

“All right, then,” he said reluctantly. “You should be out of here within a couple of hours.”

When James started to argue for a quicker release, the doctor was already stepping to the door. He held up a hand to cut off any complaints. “Paperwork.”

“More like red tape.”

“Whatever you want to call it.” And Monroe was gone.

Could he wait for the grinding wheels of hospital administration to spew out dozens of sheets of paper that he wouldn’t read anyway? Already, he was climbing the walls. And he wasn’t a patient man; that much he knew about himself.

He considered. Maybe he’d just have to up and go, and to hell with all their protocol.

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 10

In the mirror over the bar, Sophia watched the newcomer, a pretty woman who’d taken off her hat and dropped it, along with a small bag, onto an empty stool after ordering a whiskey.

There was something familiar about her, but Sophia couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The newcomer was making small talk with Marshall, a regular who occupied the stool next to her. Sophia had known Marshall for a while as he worked for James in the shop as a carpenter. He was a good enough guy, but was always hopping from one girlfriend to the next.

Like James.