Linden: Rocking Pleasure: New Adult College Romance (Coral Gables Series Book 3) (2 page)

“
Yeah, I guess.” Fuck! This guy’s sitting in New York City, and I’m stuck with John Doe. Well, Linden Doe, it seems.

“
Thank you. Can I call you when I arrive in Miami? I’ll be on my way.”

“
Sure, no problem,” I say before thinking it through. I was just going to drop this guy off at the ER, but now I’ve committed to staying with him. “I’ll text you the hospital address.”

“
Great. See you soon.” He hangs up before I can add anything.

I heave a sigh.

“
Kingston … ” Mystery Man tries the name on his tongue. So his name is Linden. An unfamiliar name, and one I’ve never heard before … No, wait. One of the actors on
Teen Wolf
is named Linden. Which reminds me. I should start watching that show again.

“
That’s his name.” I nod.

“
But he didn’t give you a first name,” Linden muses.

“
True, but we’re going to find out soon enough,” I reply. “He said he’ll be here tomorrow.” And with that, I turn a corner into the parking lot of Jackson Memorial.

“
I’ll get you inside, and then I have to say good night. I need to go to bed.”

When I look at him, Linden gives a curt nod. “Okay.”

I park the car and pull out the key. “Come on.” I get out and wait for him to do the same. Then I lock it and walk with him toward the ER entrance. “Does your hand hurt a lot?”

“
It burns like fire.”

“
Then I guess you’re not going to be playing the guitar any time soon,” I say, thinking about myself more than him. If I hurt my hand, my hobby would be history. I make music, too, and I love to sing, but I haven’t spent much time on them recently.

“
Fuck,” he curses. “I’ll be out of work for a while, too.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Why?”

“
Because, as far as I remember—and the memory is blurry at best—I need my hands to be able to work.”

“
Oh, that is rather craptastic,” I agree.

When we reach the admittance desk, Linden looks at me. “How am I supposed to get help here if I don’t know anything but my first name?”

I sigh. “Maybe we should call your friend again.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“
Good morning,” the woman behind the desk says. “How can I help you?”

“
My friend here is injured and needs to be looked at,” I tell her.

She hands me a clipboard with a registration form. “Fill this out, and then we’ll call you in.”

“
His hand is bleeding, you know. There are open wounds. He needs to be looked at right now,” I insist.

“
Lady, we’re busy,” she answers gruffly. “I can’t speed up the process, and you need to fill out this form first, anyway.”

I raise both eyebrows and lift my chin. “All right. But don’t complain when I come back to thank you in person after my friend bleeds to death,
lady
.” I turn away and nod in the direction of the waiting area, indicating that Linden should follow me there.

“
You’re rather tough,” he states.

“
Of course I am. I constantly have to stand my ground in a circle of friends who have all morphed into lovebirds. I have to be tough.”

“
Oh.”

We sit down, and I pull out my phone. “I’m going to call your pal again so he can tell me all the details for this form.”

“
I can do the writing.”

“
Are you right-handed?” I ask.

“
Yeah, why?”

I point at his blood-smeared hand. “Are you sure you can write with that?”

Linden blushes. “Oh.”

I call back the last number dialed and wait to hear Mr. Kingston’s voice again.

“
Yes?” he rumbles into the phone.

“
Hello, Mr. Kingston, it’s Thalia Leroux again. I need your help.”

“
With what?” he demands.

“
I have to fill out the registration form here in the ER, but I only know your friend’s first name. Could you maybe tell me his last name, and his blood type, and all that?”

Kingston sighs. “His full name is Linden Julian Priest. His birthday is March eighteenth. He’s twenty-three, and I think his blood type is O positive, but I’m really not sure about that last one.”

“
And his health insurance?”

“
Blue Cross,” he says.

“
Privately or via his employer?” I go on.

Kingston laughs. “Privately. You have no idea who he is, do you?”

“
Now I do. Linden Julian Priest, born twenty-three years ago in March, ended up in my car with an injured hand on June thirteenth,” I recite, filling out the form at the same time.

“
Never mind, Miss Leroux,” Kingston says with what sounds like a smirk in his voice.

“
Thanks for helping me out. I’ll name you as the contact person, if that’s okay with you.”

“
Sure. My name is Alexis Kingston.”

“
Alexis is a woman’s name,” I blurt automatically.

“
It’s not a woman’s name; it’s unisex,” he replies, sounding a little irritated now.

Now it’s my turn to giggle a little. Men are easy to annoy. “All right,
Alexis
,” I say with extra stress on his name. “Thank you. See you soon.”

“
See you, Thalia, muse of comedy,” he adds quickly before hanging up.

Asshole!
my inner voice yells, but I’m half amused by his repartee. How come everyone remembers the part about Thalia being a muse, but not the goddess of beauty bit? Jerks. I switch my phone to flight mode so I don’t kill any pacemaker patients by accident. You’re supposed to turn it off in a hospital anyway.

“
Were you able to get all the necessary info?” Linden asks shyly.

“
Yes, Richie Rich, I was. You’ve got private insurance, and I’m going to return this form to the Grinch at the front desk now.” I rise, and Linden does the same. I swallow my surprise at his clinginess. “You can stay put; I’ll be back in ten seconds.”

His turquoise eyes—for yes, they really have that aquatic color—study me cautiously. “I’d like to come along.”

“
Right. It’s your hand, after all, and the faster it’s your turn, the sooner I can go to bed.”

We walk back to the admittance desk. I hand the woman the clipboard, and she looks at it. “The allergies are missing.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, a man with amnesia might have a bit of a hard time remembering his allergies, you know?” It’s hard to stay calm. “Listen, lady, I’m dog-tired and would rather be in bed right now. But I can’t be, because I have to take care of Mr. Priest here. So would you please get a doctor, and I will gladly figure it out with them?”

“
I’m sorry I’m keeping you from going to bed, Miss Leroux,” Linden murmurs sheepishly.

“
It’s okay,” I whisper back.

I have a feeling the woman just checked the insurance line, because suddenly there’s a smile on her face. “Please come right along here, Mr. Priest.”

When he looks at me with an uncertain expression, I nod. “Go.”

“
Would you maybe … come with me?” he asks hesitantly.

Sweet Jesus, are you kidding me?
I think.
All right, so I asked for a miracle when I left that craptastic party, but, God, was it really necessary to send me a helpless man whose hand I seem to be destined to hold?
Recently, God seems to have been enjoying making a fool out of me. I sigh. “Okay, I’ll stay with you.”

Linden’s face lights up. “Thank you, Miss Leroux.”

“
But please call me Thalia. I don’t like being called Miss Leroux.”

“
Okay. Thank you, Thalia,” he repeats.

“
You’re welcome, Mr. Priest.”

We follow the woman into one of the examination rooms, and only a few minutes later, a doctor shows up. “Good morning, Mr. Priest,” he says. “You’ve injured your right hand, I hear?”

Linden holds up his bloodied hand, and now I can see the large cut across his palm, dirty and rather deep.

I feel queasy. I turn away so I don’t have to look too closely.

“
What happened?” the doctor asks.

“
I don’t remember.”

“
What is the last thing you remember, Mr. Priest?”

“
A phone number, which Miss Leroux has called already,” he answers.

“
What is your name?”

“
Linden Julian Priest,” Linden says.

“
When and where were you born?” the doctor continues, cleaning Linden’s hand at the same time, which I verify with a hesitant glance over my shoulder.

“
On March eighteenth, but I have no idea where,” he says.

“
We need to run a few tests,” the doctor decides. He’s bandaging Linden’s hand, after cleaning it and putting some garishly colored ointment on the cut. Probably iodine.

“
What kind of test?” I ask. I’m not a pre-med student or anything, but I am curious.

“
We need to look at his brainwaves, do an EEG and a CT, maybe even an MRI,” the doctor explains.

I give a curt nod. “How long is that going to take?”

“
Mr. Priest would have to be admitted as an inpatient.”

“
Yeah, you should do that,” I say. “I think it would be best if he stayed here for now.” Why is the doctor speaking to me anyway? I’m just the girl that picked up a stranger on the curb.

“
You have to sign for the hospitalization. With amnesia, he isn’t considered
compos mentis
—of sound mind.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “I’m not a relative. I’m sure I can’t sign for him,” I stall. I hope they’re not going to make me.

The doctor takes a deep breath.

“
Please, would you just sign it, Thalia?” Linden asks.

I have no idea what to do. Maybe this is
Candid Camera
, and my friends have staged an elaborate stunt for my birthday because I told them to skip the jokes for an entire year. Or maybe this is real, and I’m somehow responsible for this guy. My shoulders droop. “Okay. I’ll sign it.”

“
Please wait here, Mr. Priest. I’ll be back in a minute.” The doctor starts to leave the room and motions for me to follow.

“
Okay, Linden,” I say once we’re alone. “I’ll go home after signing this thing. If I find the time, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“
Will you promise me that?”

What a big baby!
But I try to smile. “Sure. And if I really can’t manage it, your friend has my number.”

“
Okay. Thanks a lot for driving me here and everything.”

“
Don’t mention it. Get well soon, Linden.” I leave the examination room and follow the doctor into his office. I’m still surprised I have to sign this form for his admittance. Linden doesn’t exactly look like a man who needs a legal guardian. But I put down my signature, write my full name, address, and phone number, and then finally leave the hospital.

***

When I get home, the apartment is quiet as the grave. Draven and Nathaniel must either be in bed or still out partying. Yes, I share a place with two men now. I still live in the same apartment, but with two new roommates ever since Camille moved in to Delsin’s beach house with him, and Hailey and Logan moved to Delsin’s old place. But both Draven and Nathaniel are really nice, and they’re much less messy than either Cami or Hailey. I switch my phone back to normal mode, and one glance at its clock tells me sunrise isn’t far off. I’m tired and irritated. All I want to do is go to sleep, but then I notice the many texts and WhatsApp messages I’ve received.

“
My goodness, don’t they have lives of their own?” I mutter.

With a sigh, I open the first chat window. Camille.

Where are you? I hope you didn’t fall victim to some rapist! Let me know when you’re home, doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m worried!

Next up is Delsin.

Caramel is worried. Please let her know you’re ok, so I can go to sleep. She’s keeping me up! Have a heart, Thally, call her.
And a crying emoticon.

I open Avery’s window. More of the same.

Where are you??? Sweets is driving us all crazy and is keeping us up in their living room! Dale fell asleep on the couch. Please, Thally. Call her before she calls the brute squad!

I giggle in spite of myself.

And finally, Hailey.

Use your damn phone and call one of us. All we know is that you picked up a hitchhiker, and now none of us can reach you! Thally, I swear, if you got yourself into trouble, I’ll give you extra trouble!

I roll my eyes.
Great. Everyone is upset when I drive someone to the hospital, but they can’t care enough to throw me an awesome party,
I think, somewhat unfairly. I decide to call Avery’s number, because he’s probably the least emotional of the bunch. He’ll understand. He’s sort of the guardian angel of our circle, after all. He can be a jerk at times, too, but the angel part is stronger.

“
Finally,” he says when he picks up.

“
Hi, Ave. How are you? I’m fine, too, thanks for asking.”