Confusion washed over Bree as she opened her eyes and couldn’t remember where she was. She heard a beeping and looked around. The gauze on her hand reminded her of what had happened. She was in the hospital. The hotel had caught on fire, or had been set on fire, and she and the others had had to run for their lives. She prayed no one had been hurt or, God forbid, killed.
A few moments after she awoke, the door opened and a nurse walked in. The middle-aged woman dressed in green scrubs wore a soothing smile that implied she had just the sort of bedside manner one would look for in a nurse. “There she is. I was wondering when you might come around. How you feelin’ Miss Bree?”
The woman’s demeanor made Bree feel better immediately. “Okay,” she said, her throat dry. “Where’s Trent?”
