Jackson's POV
I stared at the paper that spit out from the copier, blinking as her name surfaced like a ghost out of the static.
Isabella Rose Watson.
It was printed so plainly—just black ink on cheap stationery paper—but it hit me like a punch to the chest. She’s coming to my airway training session. My hands gripped the page as I scanned the rest of the list, but none of the other names registered. It was hers—Bella—the girl who’s been haunting my thoughts every damn night since I met her.
I sank heavily into my office chair, the paper crinkling in my hand. My fingers trembled slightly as I pressed them to my eyes, trying to clear my head. This is bad. Or good. Or both. I can’t tell anymore. The name on the list glared up at me like a dare. Isabella.
My pulse jumped. My chest tighte
