“Am I dreaming?” I croaked, and even the words scraping up my throat hurt. “I didn’t think I was gay, but I’m wondering if this is the start of some kind of sex dream.” Harleigh Rose stopped what she was doing––checking my pulse against the time on her Rolex watch––and blinked at me for a second before that cold expression shattered with belly-laughter. “Well,” she said, still chuckling. “That has to be one of the weirder things a patient has said when wakin’ from unconsciousness, but I’ll take the compliment.”
