Dream Weaver (Dream Weaver #1) Read Online Free PDF

bumped and rumbled up to the stockroom door, too big to fit into the compact room. Two fireman screened the doorway from rest of the store with a large, yellow sheet for my privacy. Mike helped me to stand and shamble to the gurney, painstakingly guarded of the location of his hands on my body. He lifted me up and helped me to recline, then draped the yellow sheet over me before fastening a belt over my thighs.
                  Dozens of voices whispered and rumbled around me as the medics wheeled my battered body past, and cops escorted Jesse out like a suspect. Yes, I had definitely drawn a crowd of people who gathered to gawk at the spectacle.
                  I scanned the sea of faces for the one I needed, the one I had saved. Ivy. Her pretty blue eyes filled with tears and her sweet, heart-shaped face contorted in horror. Her hand flew to her mouth to suppress the wail of grief when she glimpsed my bloodied face; her hand clamped over her mouth to subdue another, or perhaps to hold back vomit. I stretched my battered hand and crooked my stained fingers at her. “Come,” the single word rasped through my throat. A broken sob escaped her chalky lips, then Ivy whirled around and fled.
                  I must be a holy mess .
                  Overall, I liked my face okay. I hoped for less than utter destruction. It sure felt destroyed.
                  The hospital was only a few blocks away, so close they didn’t even bother with the sirens. With lights flashing, we sped down the street, barely getting to emergency speed before we had to slow down. Everything moved so swiftly it all became a blur around me. No doubt, the conk on the head and loss of blood had something to do with it as well. Jesse remained in the waiting room at the insistence of the investigating officer, but Officer Elliot and Mike continued into the exam room with me. Mike rattled off my stats and injuries to the nurses who fluttered and scurried alongside the gurney.
                  “Is there someone I can call for you? Your parents?” Officer Elliot inquired once my gurney rolled to a stop in exam 12 and the flurry of activity began.
                  Sure if you wanna hold a séance. “No,” I stifled a sob. “My parents were killed in a car crash last April.”
                  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Her cop composure faltered briefly and she suddenly looked very young and naive. “Um, a brother or sister then?”
                  “No. It’s just me.” My heart remained tender to this kind of questioning. I would have to work harder at not sounding like such a pathetic Little Orphan Annie. Poor Officer Elliot was stunned into silence.
                  The nurse flitting around my bed froze at my words, her hand moved as if by instinct to stroke my arm. Her brow corrugated and her eyes darkened with a shadow of grief. “There’s someone named Ivy out in the waiting room, honey. Would you like to have her with you during the exam?” she offered. This short, plump, kind-looking woman, with short, curly graying hair was graced with a gentle, compassionate smile and a tender heart. I imagined many small children had lain their heads on her ample breast for comfort.
                  “Yes. Please,” I mumbled through my haze.
                  Ivy skittered into the room a few moments later, pale and frail-looking, streaks of tears dried on her face. “Em. They’re treating Jess like a suspect,” she croaked.
                  “What?” I nearly launched myself off of the gurney. “No. Officer Elliot. Jesse didn’t do this. Make them stop.” The cop lurched away from the counter she’d been leaning on and scurried out of the room. When she returned her stern scowl melted into an apologetic smile.
                  “All taken care of,” she said.