By the time I got home, the rain beat down in sheets. I ran for the front door, nearly skidded on the cell phone remains still all over the foyer. I fetched the broom and dustpan, scooped them up into the trash. I ran up to my room and froze, mid-stride. Adam had spent only one night here and it... missed him. I could still smell the faint odor from the cigarette he'd smoked with the window open. I righted the picture that fell over when he propped his crutches against my dresser. I ran to the bathroom and spotted the tiny squares of blood-stained toilet paper he'd used to tend his razor rash in the waste basket. He left his bag. I dove for it, found the t-shirt he'd worn yesterday and pressed it to my face.

Feel the burn.

Then I took a shower, since I was soaked through. I tried to ignore the spots on my underwear. It was just sex, right? It – or I - didn't mean a thing.

Not a damn thing.

I checked my phone. No missed calls. I checked my email. All spam and a few subscriptions to news from an industry that I was no longer part of. I checked the time. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.

I scrolled through my contacts list. There was no one to call. Over a hundred entries of friends who were no longer friends. I scratched at my scars and slapped a hand to my head. I left the pressure bandages in Adam's room. I called the hospital and asked for Ranger.

"Hey, sugar!"

I could hear the smile in Ranger's voice. I really loved that. "Hi. Um. I'm sorry to just, you know, call-"

"Eden, what's wrong?"

Crap. He wasn't smiling now. "Could I... just come in? I mean, now?"

"Don't you have school?"

"I cut class."

"Are you in pain?"

"Yeah. Uh, no. Not real pain. I was just hoping to visit Sam."

"Not real pain," he repeated, and then was silent for a moment. "Sam's gone, sugar. We discharged him yesterday."

"Oh." Disappointment was acute and the tears in my throat flared again. 

"There are thunder storms bearing down on us. You be careful driving. I already put you back together once."

I laughed once. "Thanks."

"You bet."

#

By the time I'd reached the hospital, the rain had weakened to mere drizzle. In the lobby, a security guard stood when I approached. "Miss Leighton? I'm supposed to walk with you to the burn unit."

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Hey, sugar!" Ranger, a stack of towels in his arms, greeted me as I walked in. "Head over to curtain two, okay?"

I nodded, caught the eye of a patient on the mat table, a padded platform about the size of a double bed. My heart ached for him; he'd suffered horrifying burns to his face. The scarring made his face look mask-like and I could tell he wore a wig. He had bright blue eyes that tracked me as I walked past.

"Hi. I'm Michael." He shouted.

I nodded, smiled for a second. "Eden."

"Haven't seen you here before. Are you fresh or faded?"

My eyes widened. "Um. Sorry?"

"Your burns."

"Oh. Um. I'm about two months along."

"Cool! I'm faded. This is as good as it gets. I got burned when I was about ten. Gasoline."

My jaw dropped. "Uh. Wow. Sorry."

"Yeah, it sucks. I'm trying laser treatments now."

"Good. Well, good luck."

"Nice to meet you, Eden." He waved. His hand had only three fingers.

Behind the curtain, I slipped off my hoodie, and hopped on the treatment table. Ranger walked in a minute later, sat in the chair and stared at me. "Talk to me, sugar."

I shrugged. What was there to say?

He reached for my right arm, held it out, rotated it. "How come you're not wearing the pressure dressings? Blisters?"

I shook my head. "No... I, um, left them at Adam's. Do I still need them? They're hot." My face heated at the whine in my voice. I sounded like Cassie. And then I winced when the thought struck that I'd probably never see her again.

"I asked you this once. Are you and he a couple?"

I let my eyes slip shut and shook my head.

"It's none of my business. But, Eden, your voice was so flat on the phone. It worries me. Adam's got a lot of issues and I don't like knowing he's hurt you. How bad are you hurt?"

My mouth worked but no words came out. I shook my head slowly, mechanically, until Ranger caught my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. "Okay. Here's what we're gonna do. I'll do some scar massage, fit you for new garments, and then, I would really like you to stick around and meet somebody."

With narrowed eyes, I asked, "Who?"

"A new patient. Brought in yesterday. She's two, Eden. Two." When Ranger's eyes clouded, I nodded.

"Of course I'll stay."

"Cool. Okay, now, shirt off and stretch on your belly for me. I’ll be right back."

I liked scar massage. It hurt at first. But I imagined the pressure of Ranger's fingers breaking down the concrete walls of my scars into tiny bricks that could be carted away. After a few minutes of imagining the walls coming down, it actually felt pretty good. When he was done, he went through the range-of-motion exercises, muttering approval. Finally, he brought me a new pressure dressing –– well, a garment, actually. It was like a jacket with sleeves that reached my elbows. Best of all, it was a one-piece zipper design instead of three separate dressings.

I laughed. "I used to wear designer clothes and look at me, getting all excited about a flesh-toned jacket that zips."

"Trust me, you make even this look good."

"Ranger!"

We both turned to see Barbara, my former nurse, wheeling in a gurney bearing a toddler, both of her legs red and raw and swollen and one arm strapped to an IV board that stopped her from bending her arm to pull it out. She was sleeping.

Sedated.

"Um. Right. Okay." Ranger moved to the wall where the sink was and washed his hands. "Eden. Wash your hands like this." He demonstrated the right procedure, then showed me how to put on sterile glove and a mask while Barbara drew the curtain around the gurney.

"This is Molly. Look and tell me what you see."

She was gorgeous. Blonde ringlets of hair framed chubby cheeks. Dry white tracks lined the front of both legs with shiny red patches interspersed. Raised blisters dotted the wounds. "These don't seem as bad as mine. Definitely second degree with some deeper areas. She was scalded?"

"Don't ask me, tell me."

"She was scalded with hot water. Sam was burned with oil. His burns looked different."

Ranger grinned behind his mask. "Good girl. You nailed it. Handles on a pot of boiling water broke and the pot fell. Molly was wearing just her diaper and a shirt. Now tell me what treatments you recommend."

My jaw dropped. "Uh. Well, not debridement, since she has no eschar. She must be in agony. I didn't feel mine until after you started scraping."

"Go on."

"Silver ointment."

"Good. Anything else?"

I considered for a minute. "Sterile dressings." And then, Adam popped into my mind. "Hey, what about honey?"

Ranger's eyes bugged and he grinned. "I'm impressed. You've been reading?"

My faced heated and I shrugged.

"You're on the right track, sugar. Honey might be used if it were a small burn because it's a natural antibiotic, but for this? We'll wash the site, dress it with Silvadene and change the dressings a couple times a day. Oil scalds are a lot worse than water because they penetrate deeper, but Molly's in a lot more pain than Sam because Sam's burns deadened the nerves. That's why she's sedated. In cases like hers, because she's so little and a burn on both legs is about twenty percent of her body, we treat as if the burn is much worse than it is."

I nodded. Dr. Nielsen often says burns are worse than they look. And they look pretty bad, so that's kind of gross, actually.

"Grafts are almost always needed with scalds because scalds tend to go full thickness but Molly was lucky. She wasn't standing that close to the spill site. She was splashed more than scalded."

"That's what caused her striping?"

Ranger nodded. "Good eye. If we saw more white and less red blistering, we'd be prepping her for grafts. But Dr. Nielsen doesn't think grafts are necessary for Molly. For one thing, she's too small for an autograft, so we'd have to either culture some of her skin, which would just prolong her recovery, or decide on pinch or split-thickness grafts. She's doing well with treatment so far. She'll probably go home in a few days."

I blinked. I had no idea what he just said.

He grinned and then angled his head at me. I shifted my weight from side to side.

"What?"

"Come with me a minute." Ranger turned, led me to a door at the rear of the unit and waved at a chair in front of an old metal desk. We sat, me in front of the desk and Ranger behind it.

"When you called before, you worried me, Eden." Ranger's piercing eyes held mine, wouldn't let them go. "Your voice...... it was like you decided you had nothing to live for. You scared me, Eden."

"I'm sorry."

He flung up a hand to stop me. "Don't be sorry. Be honest. Tell me what's bugging you."

I sucked in a deep breath and shrugged. "I don't know, Ranger. I just feel all... abandoned."

He nodded. "Eden, you have to give it time. I know, believe me," he waved a hand at his torso. "I know how hard it is to recover from injuries like yours. I've lived through it. But you have it harder than I did. You've lost your job, your friend."

My virginity.

"You sounded like you... like you lost hope and I was this close," he held up a hand, thumb and index finger touching. "This close to driving over to your house, half-expecting to find you bleeding out in the tub.""

My jaw dropped. "No! No, Ranger, it's not...I'm not." I couldn't even say the word. "I wouldn't. I promise."

Ranger stared at me, ran a hand over his hair. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. Now I want you to listen to me." He paused like he was trying to find the right words. "Sugar, you are very good at this work.""

My face warmed. "You're just a really good teacher."

"Eden, stop. I'm not bullshitting you. You're a natural. I wanted you to see Molly, see how you'd handle it. Because I took the liberty of doing this."

Ranger pulled open the drawer of the desk and took out an envelope, handed it to me. Inside, I found a nursing school program brochure and application forms. "You can be working in about two years, Eden. Community college gets you an associate degree. From there, you can finish your undergrad studies around a full-time position right here."

I bounced in my chair and nibbled a fingernail. A nurse? Me? I considered. After dealing with scorched and oozing skin for months, I guess I wasn't all that squeamish. And I loved helping Sam – being able to help him.

"You need something to take your mind off your friends. Off Adam."

My eyes shot to his but he wasn't teasing me. I saw only concern.

Ranger held up his hands in surrender. "All I'm asking is that you consider it. You don't have to commit right now."

I was already shaking my head. "Ranger, I don't need to consider. I would love to do this. And I could like... work here? Now?"

Ranger grinned, grabbed the phone on his desk and dialed a four-digit extension. "Hey. Remember the candidate I told you about for the open req? Yeah, right now. Okay." He hung up the phone, grabbed a pen and then handed me a scrap of paper. "Go to the first floor, ask for this office number and find Celeste. She'll get you set up."

I stood, grinning like an idiot, about to throw my arms around Ranger but I guess that wouldn't be um... professional.

He was my boss now.

By the time I got home, Maddie's Mercedes was in the drive way and my stomach was growling. I couldn't wait to tell Maddie about my day... even the part with Adam. I grabbed all the paperwork I'd received from Celeste, including my brand new ID card, and hurried into the house, where I skidded to a dead stop.

In the foyer, on the table under the stairs, sat a bouquet of flowers. A riot of pale pink roses, deep purple lilacs, and pure white lilies spilled from the crystal vase, a card tucked into the greenery used for filler. I hurried over, ripped the card free, my heart doing a little happy dance in my chest.

When I read the card, my heart sank like a stone, and the card floated to the floor.

"Eden?" Maddie's heels tapped over to me. "What is it?"

He knows where I live.

Struck dumb, I could only shake my head.

"Eden. You're sheet white. Come sit down."

I shook my head harder. "No. No, we have to leave. Right now."

Maddie scoffed. "I just got home and I... have plans. Really, Eden."

"Mom!" I grabbed her arms, shook her. "We have to leave. Go to the police. He knows where I live."

"Eden, you're not making any sense. Who knows where you live? Your boyfriend?"

My God, now was really not the time for a blonde moment. "He's not my boyfriend. He's a psycho stalker and he knows where we live. Did you not hear a word I said last night? I had to buy a new cell phone because he won't stop harassing me."

Maddie frowned and retrieved the card from the floor. “’Eden, the soldier can't satisfy you like I can. Love, Ray.' Is Ray your boyfriend?"

Did he know? Had he somehow watched Adam and me this afternoon? I couldn't stop the shudder that went through me. "Mom! Try to keep up. Ray is a psycho stalker. He's been following me. Remember? Last night, you told me to go to a friend's house? I went to Adam's."

"Is Adam your boyfriend?"

Maddie's question knifed through my heart and I hissed in a breath. "No. I don't think so."

"What does that mean, Eden?"

"It means – God, Mom. It means I messed things up. He doesn't want to see me again. I'll tell you about it, just... just not here. We have to leave. Now."

"And go where?"

"The hotel. Just... just trust me, please?"

The doorbell rang and I shrieked.

"Eden, for God's sake." Maddie moved past to open the door.

"No! Don't open it." I darted in front of her, threw the deadbolt.

"Eden. I am expecting company." Maddie put both hands on my shoulders and pushed me out of her way. She unfastened the deadbolt.

The blood froze in my veins.

Opened the door.

My heart jackhammered behind my ribs.

"Madelyn."

I recognized the way her posture straightened. The way she smiled. She took a step back and my jaw dropped.

"Dr. Nielsen?" My voice rose an octave.

"Eden. Nice to see you. How are you feeling?"

Strangely, my brain had forgotten how to form words. My mother had a date with my surgeon. This was... like...like the actual definition of awkward. Definitely.

The glare of headlights cutting across the darkness shook me out of my paralysis. I tugged the door from Maddie's hands, shut it firmly and again, threw the deadbolt. I did not miss the look my mother and my doctor exchanged.

"Eden believes she has a," pause to clear throat, "stalker." Maddie said with a raise of eyebrow.

"Oh?" Dr. Nielsen's eyes darted to the flowers and the card I'd let fall to the floor. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." I said, before Maddie could wave the hand she'd lifted. "He's sent me gifts at the hospital, followed me home last night and now, the flowers. I had to get a new cell phone because he kept texting me."

"Has he made any threats?" The doctor frowned behind his wire-rims.

"Not specifically. But just that he knows so much about me is threatening enough." I shrugged a shoulder, pushed the hair off my face. "The police said to stay vigilant and not take any chances."

Maddie's head whipped around. "You spoke to the police?"

"This morning," I nodded. "I skipped school to report last night's incident."

"You skipped school?"

Maddie's disapproving tone made me laugh. She pulled me out of class all the time for photo shoots, but this, she had a problem with? "I'm...just gonna head upstairs. I'm beat."

Before anyone could object, I turned and ran to my room, flung myself face down on my bed and screamed into my pillow for like an hour or four. Finally, my stomach growled and I figured I'd indulged in enough tears. When I got up, the house was quiet. Too quiet. I headed downstairs, flipped on the kitchen lights, found a note from Maddie.

D. Gone out for a bite. M.

I spun around, my eyes flashing to the back door. Locked. The sliders in the dining room. Locked. I forced my pounding heart into a slower rhythm with deep breaths and foraged in the refrigerator for dinner, settling on the contents of a foil tin marked with the logo of Maddie's favorite restaurant. Yum. Chicken francaise. I scooped it onto a plate, popped it in the microwave for a few minutes and glanced out the kitchen window.

A man stared back at me.

And then I screamed.

I lunged for the house phone, dialed 911 and looked again.

No man.

I flipped on the exterior lights and pressed my face to the glass. Nothing. The back yard was clear.

"911. What's your emergency."

"Um. Hello. This morning, I filled out a report about a stalker and he's – well, I think he's outside my house."

"You think?"

"I saw someone. But when I looked again, he was gone."

"What's your name."

"Leighton. Eden Leighton."

"Are you alone in the house?"

"Yes."

"Don't open the door. Turn off your lights. There's a patrol car in your area. I'm sending him to your address. If he needs to talk to you, he'll knock. Ask for ID before you open the door."

I hung up and jumped a foot when the microwave beeped. I grabbed the plate and a fork and headed back to my room, determined to enjoy my dinner, such as it was. In the foyer, on the way to the stairs, a shadow passed across the front window.

I dropped my plate, backed slowly away from the door.

The door bounced under the pounding of a heavy fist. My boneless legs buckled and I slid to the floor, wrapped my arms around my knees. The pounding grew louder, faster, harder.

"Eden Leighton! Police. Open up."

Oh, God. I scrubbed my hands over my face, scrambled to my feet, pried open the door.

And screamed.