She instantly recognized those green, green eyes; his chiselled features; and a five o’clock shadow that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his jaw. Ten years older, he was a breathtaking version of the teenager she’d known. The teenager she’d loved. The teenager who’d scored and bolted, taking her heart along with him for the ride.

It wasn’t a dream at all, but her worst nightmare. And why was a gun clipped to his belt?

She cleared her throat and found her voice. “You look like a hundred-mile stretch of bad road, Rocket. What are you doing here?”

He cracked a smile displaying white, even teeth. Moving to the foot of the bed, the air around him hinted of sandalwood and peppermint. “It’s nice to see you too, Billie. I see you’re still styling your hair with a stun gun.”

Actually, her hair didn’t feel half bad when she ran her fingers through it in a self-conscious gesture. Oh, sure, it was long, wild, and curly, but at least it was brushed—except for where a mountain of bandages was taped behind her left ear. What is that?

“Not fair, Reece, like I’ve had time for the salon.” She tried to hide her confusion by pulling herself higher in the bed. Starbursts flashed behind her eyes. Her vision tunnelled and her stomach heaved. “Whoa…”

“Be careful. There were complications—the bullet wound is infected.”

Bullet wound?

She didn’t move, waited for the dizziness to subside while she soaked up Reece’s words. The ache in her head and her sense of helplessness said he was telling the truth.