Wreckless Read Free Page B

probably imagined Cara’s disapproval. After all, why else would she offer herself as bridesmaid if she didn’t like the idea of her marrying Enzo?
    “Love you too, Cara. Now, are you okay to walk, or do you want to sit over there while I fetch the car?” She indicated the bench nearby. Secretly, she hoped they could make it to the car under their own steam. Enzo waited for her. In half an hour, she would be in his arms again. If she hurried.
    “I’m fine, fine, fine,” Cara sing-songed, then broke into, “I’m getting married in the morning, tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la…”
    Relieved, Lexi chuckled as she hooked an arm around her and steered her away from the curb. “You’re not getting married for another eight days, love, and the car’s this way. Girls, are you all right back there?” she threw over her shoulder at the other two, who propped each other up behind her.
    “We’re fine, mistress. Lead the way,” they chorused.
    She smiled. Aside from a few bumps, the evening had gone well. In less than half an hour, it was going to get way better.
    She quickened her steps to her car and waited till everyone piled in.
    Cara and Fiona were belting their way through a Coldplay anthem song when the truck veered across the street and careened straight into their path.
    Horns blared.
    Someone screamed.
    The last thing Lexi saw was the flash of her engagement ring as she threw up her hands in useless defense.
    Then the black cloud engulfed her.

 
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    Twelve Months Later
     
    Lexi stepped from the car and sucked in her breath as the hot Los Angeles air stung her nostrils. She still wasn’t used to how warm the weather was here compared to the constant wet in London.
    In the fading evening light, she looked up at the austere façade of the building in front of her. Pain and sorrow gripped her as it did every time she came here.
    Everything remained the same. The sign at the top of the building still read, St. Jude’s Hospital . The automatic doors she approached would delay in opening until she stood right in front of them, the elevator would creak and groan its way up to the seventh floor, and the smell – the cloying mingled smell of disinfectant and death – would tighten around her throat, as if to strangle her.
    Sometimes it took days before the smell came off. It hung around - in her car, her clothes, her hair. Commanding her to never forget.
    Never forget.
    As if she would.
    She touched the inside of her right forearm where the long, thin, jagged scar mocked her. If ever she were in danger of forgetting, she only had to look at her arm to remember. Remember the—
    “Hi there, Miss Mayfield. Lord, is it Friday already? The days sure are flying, aren’t they?” The buxom black nurse with the salt and pepper hair who worked the evening shift frowned at the calendar on the counter.
    “Yes, they are. But it’s not Friday. I have to go out of town, so I decided to come a day early.” Lexi summoned a smile and approached the desk. “I won’t stay long.”
    “Oh, okay. I thought I was going out of my mind. That, or getting old, which I am, no doubt there. Well, go right on through. There’s been no change, unfortunately. But our prayers will be answered one of these days, I’m sure of it.” Her smile was benign as she came round the counter and fell into step beside Lexi.
    “Thank you.”
    The older woman laid a hand on her arm. “No, child, don’t thank me. I think your devotion has helped a whole lot. The family should be thanking you.”
    You wouldn’t say that if you knew. Your smile would turn into a sneer if you only knew the truth. She said nothing. Only nodded and accompanied Nurse Simpson to the last door along the quiet corridor.
    She hesitated. When the nurse motioned her inside and departed, Lexi closed the door behind her and approached the bed, the familiar, harrowing, feelings of guilt, sadness and regret, eating away like deadly acid inside her.
    Drawing level with