Splintered North

SPLINTERED NORTH ANNA KATMORE SPLINTERED NORTH On Thin Ice, book 2 Copyright © 2023 by Anna Katmore Cover Art by Anna Katmore Cover design © 2023 by Anna Katmore All rights reserved www.annakatmore.com Table of contents 1. Heartbeats 2. A time without dreams 3. Forever is a place between yesterday and tomorrow 4. Snap out of it! 5. The thin line between love and distance 6. Obscure experiments 7. Every rose has its thorn 8. The truth is down the hallway to the left 9. Peanut butter sandwiches 10. Half-truths for breakfast 11. The chosen one 12. Because you can’t 13. Ten steps to you 14. The truth about sex and passwords Epilog Excerpt About the author 1. Heartbeats The room is a cocoon of darkness, pierced only by the glow of blue light spilling from the monitors surrounding me. Cool air whispers through a tube and into my nostrils, a steady rhythm in sync with the soft beeping accompanying my every breath. A cuff clings to my left upper arm, squeezing and releasing in odd intervals. My feet are toasty, but my hands are cold and abandoned. I long to tuck them under the blanket, but for some reason, I can’t manage. My mouth won’t open either, leaving me unable to ask the girl for even a glass of water as she drifts to my bedside, sweeping an unfamiliar device across my forehead. I can only stare into her eyes as she offers me a warm smile. This isn’t the first time. She’s been here before. Has she left at all? How long have I been imprisoned in this room? My gaze lingers on her as she circles the bed, inspecting the monitors before plucking a strip of paper from one. She examines it, then reaches for a suspended bottle, a tube snaking from it to my hand. Again, our eyes connect, and her gentle smile returns. Dressed in white pants and a form-fitting yellow tee, she sports earrings adorned with tiny, vibrant metal feathers. Her jet-black hair, edgy and short, frames her face. I don’t know her, or why she’s here, but I’m grateful for her presence. She’s like a Woodstock-era fairy godmother. Everyone needs one, right? I yearn to reciprocate her smile, but my face remains frozen. My eyes are the only part of me that can follow her. A sudden chill creeps into the back of my hand, and my eyelids grow heavy. * The moment my eyes flutter open, I search for my yellow-clad fairy. Relief washes over me when I find her across the room, scribbling in a folder. Outside the window, darkness reigns, but inside, blue light bathes the room like an icy grotto. I observe her, wondering why she doesn’t sit or what she’s even documenting. I long to ask, but my parched throat and aching jaw prevent any sound. In fact, my entire face throbs with pain. I close my mouth and struggle to recall the cause. A fight, perhaps? Faint images plague my mind. Dark shapes… Was I battling with a bear? It sounds absurd, but the memory is vivid, if somewhat blurred…with snow. In the beams of headlights. Of North’s car— The memory sends a jolt through my body, and I gasp for air. The once-peaceful beeping above accelerates, mimicking a ticking bomb counting down. My good fairy whirls around as I attempt to sit up, cables and tubes straining against my movement. In an instant, she’s at my side, her delicate hands on my shoulders, gently easing me back onto the pillow. How can someone barely five-foot-five be so strong? “Where’s North?” I rasp, hardly audible. Desperation floods my eyes as I search hers, needing her to grasp the urgency. The frantic beeping intensifies. “Everything’s okay, Adrian,” she attempts to reassure me, but her expression betrays her words. “You need to rest now.” Reality slams into me as I recognize my surroundings. The entire evening, the car ride, the accident—brutal images flash through my mind. The young nurse eyes me sympathetically and reaches for the IV bag of clear liquid hanging next to my bed. But this time, I grip her hand before she can adjust the flow and knock me out again. “Please!” I beg, my voice cracking with the effort. “You have to help me.” She’s my fairy godmother, after all. The young woman silences the incessant beeping of the monitor above me. Did she just turn off my heart? “I need to see North Beckett. Please!” I implore her again. “He was in the car with me. Is he okay? Is he in the hospital, too?” I’m not sure how much she understood of my slurred mumbling, but she takes my hand and lets out a slow breath, as if stalling for time. “I’m afraid I can’t—” Her words are cut off by a different voice that grabs my attention. “Adrian?” The voice comes from the hallway, where the door is ajar. “Adrian!” it calls again, excitement evident. A moment later, Ruth bursts in and rushes to my side. She clasps my right hand, an oxygen monitor clipped to my index finger, and presses it to her lips. Her face is stained with tears, her eyes red and swollen. She looks awful, the picture of grief… A knot forms in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. “What happened to him?” I whisper. “I’m so relieved you’re okay, my dear!” she sobs into my hand. “The doctor said you have a concussion and severe bruising, but you’ll heal.” “Please, Ruth!” I try to snap her out of her tears, removing the bulky monitor from my finger. Holding both her hands, I press them to my chest, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me what happened to North.” Finally, understanding flickers in her eyes. And boundless compassion. For me? She frees one hand from my grasp and tenderly brushes my cheek, as gentle as a feather. No wonder she’s sympathetic. After slamming into the airbag,