The Alpha's Saviour

Chapter 2

Hayley POV

I blink my eyes open and squint. The fluorescent lights above my bed are uncomfortably bright and not helping my pounding headache. It takes me a second to remember what happened and realize where I am. Groaning out loud, I cover my eyes with my arm. I am supposed to be staying below the radar, not ending up all over the hospital and police reports.

"Welcome back Hayley. Headache?" my nurse says brightly, picking up a cup of water from the sideboard in the room and handing me a little plastic container with a couple of painkillers in it. I tip the tablets into my mouth before taking a few sips of water. I scoot back up the bed into a sitting position, pulling the thin blue blanket up with me.

"How are you feeling? You have been out for a few hours," she asks gently, coming to my side to take my pulse, and wheeling over the blood pressure monitor.

"Fine," I answer, "I feel like a bit of a fraud for taking up a hospital bed, to be honest."

"You were in shock and nearly hypothermic when they brought you in last night. You must be exhausted. We'll keep you here overnight just to be on the safe side. Anyone, you need me to call for you?" I pause for a second before shaking my head. I moved here to keep my mess away from my family, it doesn't make any sense to drag them here now.

"No, I've just moved to town and I'll be home again before my parents could even get here," I answer. She pats my arm reassuringly after finishing all her checks, before quietly leaving me alone in the room.

My thoughts immediately turn to Cooper and my gut clenches as I wonder how he is doing. I should have asked the nurse when I had the chance. There isn't another hospital within a two-hour drive so he must be here too. I picked Grey Ridge to relocate to precisely because it was small and remote compared to the city life that I had lived for the last eight years, but long distances to get medical care is one of the trade-offs for having clean country air.

An ache blooms in my chest as I wonder whether the man survived. Maybe it's common to feel emotionally connected to someone after a traumatic event, but this seems a bit dramatic. I'm normally pretty level-headed but I feel panic rising every time I replay the scene in my mind. I can remember his beautiful deep brown eyes looking up at me from under thick black lashes as the emergency services took over and I was pulled away. He was so brave, willing to sacrifice himself for that child without hesitation. Maybe when I get my life back on track, I'll be fortunate enough to meet a good man like that, instead of the idiots I have managed to pick in the past.

A soft knock on the door distracts me from my thoughts and a familiar pair of light blue eyes peer around the door. It's my handsome blonde helper from the scene of the accident.

"Is it ok if I come in?" He asks.

"Sure, come on in," I say, and he smiles brightly, shutting the door gently behind him and crossing the room in two long strides. It didn't register at the river with all that was going on, but I now realize that this man is quite good-looking. I am normally a tall, dark and handsome kind of gal but nobody could fail to see how attractive he was, with his dark blonde jaw-length hair, tanned skin, and strong jawline. He is tall and well built, and I recall how he easily carried me in his arms. Looking at his biceps bulging out from under the sleeves of his t-shirt as he moves, that makes a bit more sense now. I suddenly feel a bit exposed and self-conscious in my thin hospital gown and stinking of dirty river water. I'm grateful that he doesn't stand too close.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me. His face is friendly, but his tone is serious as though he's genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.

"Oh, I'm fine! They're just keeping me in overnight as a precaution." I dismiss his concerns with a wave of my hand, and he frowns a bit, as though he is not convinced that I am telling the truth.

"How is your friend?" I ask, keen to divert the attention away from myself. I'm almost afraid to hear the answer. I glance up from under my eyelashes when he hasn't spoken and find his piercing eyes are studying me intently. I am never one to shy away from eye contact but even I find this intense, it's as if he is trying to read the depths of my mind. The urge to look away is strong, but I hold out and cock an eyebrow at him, keen to know one way or the other. I get the impression that he is deciding what to tell me. Maybe he's worried about breaking bad news to me. I feel nauseous at the thought.

"Cooper's alive," he tells me, "But he is pretty banged up obviously. He had surgery for some internal injuries, he has some broken bones and lots of stitches, but by some miracle, they're pretty sure it's nothing that won't heal."

"Thank fuck!" I let out the breath that I didn't realize I was holding, and he smirks at my colourful language. I drop my head back against the pillows and feel tears welling up in my eyes. I wipe them away quickly, embarrassed at my emotional response. If anyone should be upset, it should be the man in front of me and not a complete stranger like me.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just so relieved. I did everything I could but... I guess I just didn't see how he could make it." I draw in a ragged breath, and shake my head, trying to remove those negative thoughts from my brain and pull myself together. He stares at me again as if trying to work out a puzzle, and then just nods again and smiles.

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you. If you hadn't done what you did, he would have drowned. If you need anything at all, anything, please just let me know. We are forever in your debt, Hayley." he adds, leaning slightly forward and gripping the rail of my hospital bed, the sincerity clear in his eyes.

We. Who are we? Does that mean Cooper has a girlfriend or a wife?

I mentally chastise myself for having such strange thoughts about a man I don't even know. Whether he is in a relationship or not is none of my business.

He reaches out and presses a piece of paper into my palm with his name and phone number written on it, before folding my fingers tightly around it.

"I am just glad I was there to help... Ethan." I glance down and read the name on the paper before looking back up at him. He nods again, before turning and striding out of the door without looking back.

Odd.

I can't decide if he was just expressing his gratitude or if he was hitting on me. Surely a man as confident and good-looking as that isn't shy around the ladies? If he was hitting on me, I am pretty sure I would know all about it. Or am I just that out of practice?