Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Because I can’t answer your questions without you knowing the full picture. And, personally for me, a fresh start felt like more than just an opportunity to reconnect. It felt like a chance to rebuild.”
It seems the holes in the story are too big to fill even for her. I still stare with more questions popping into my head than time to ask. “What are we rebuilding?” Her hesitation has my stomach dropping, but I’m tired of being oblivious to what she could possibly say next.
Her expression softens into a small but genuine smile, relieving my mind from working overdrive into the what-ifs. “We haven’t been friends in a long time,” she says. “Different paths. Different lives. Different circles until more recently.”
“What changed more recently?”
“You’ve become good friends with my brother-in-law, Dan—”
“Daniel?”
She catches her jaw before it hits her lap. “You remember him? Do you remember my sister, Summer?”
“Of course, I know Summer. We grew up—” How did I not remember, or connect the dots on their surname? “Summer Season. Oh wow, You’re Autumn. I didn’t even put two and two together. I also know your sisters Winter and Spring.” This hits hard. How could I know her sisters well yet not recognize the woman in front of me? I drop my head into my hands, clench my eyes closed, and dig through anything that could possibly lead me back to her. The disappointment she felt makes more sense now. “How do I remember her and not you?”
“That’s what I figured back at the hospital. You can look straight into my eyes, but no memories of me return. It’s like I’m a black hole in your mind. Very odd.”
“Yeah, it is odd.” How did that make her feel? I feel like an asshole for not recognizing her. Maybe it would have been better if she continued lying to me. I only feel worse knowing the truth. I stand, tugging at the sweatpants waistband that is determined to slacken around my hips, and walk to a window to look out again. “Will I ever remember you?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is faint, as if she’s fading away, but when I turn back to check, she’s still where I left her in the chair. She is looking down, her hair covering her face, hiding it from my view. “I have some ideas to help with the concussion,” she starts, looking back at me, “but I don’t know how to make your memories return.”
“When you said fresh start, I didn’t know you meant literally.” Worst-case scenarios have no problem populating like popcorn, but one word she said keeps returning. Rebuild. A piece of a different puzzle drops into place. “Did I hurt you?”
“Did you hurt me?” she asks, barely above a whisper, as if I’m intruding on her personal conversation. Picking at her cuticles, she exhales loud enough for me to hear where I stand. “We haven’t really talked in a while.”
“Different friends and circles, lives. I get all that, but this is a small town.”
“It sure is.” Glancing back at me, she says, “Too small sometimes.”
That shouldn’t make me chuckle under the circumstances. “You’re not wrong.”
The humor gives way to my spinning thoughts. I shove my hands in my pockets and stare out the window again. The leaves are starting to change, and the warmer weather will be replaced with cooler temperatures before I have a chance to heal if I don’t get on it. But the progress I thought I was making feels like an illusion.
There could be things I don’t remember that she’s not even aware of. She would have known I didn’t recognize her the first time we spoke. But if I’ve lost my memories of her and the accident, what else am I missing?
Fuck. My memories could be swiss cheese for all either of us knows. And here I was, getting my gear and uniform together as soon as I got home yesterday, thinking I’m only a few days out from returning to the station. This is a wrench I don’t need, and one that’s concerning. What I don’t want to do is worry my nurse, or I could be permanently benched.
Getting up, she comes to stand beside me at the window. Her gaze isn’t locked on the view, which I know she loves, but on me instead. “I’m going to help you through this.”
The noise in my head quiets under her reassuring words, and when she touches my arm, my heart comes to life again.
CHAPTER 13
AUTUMN
“I’ve gotten every one of them right.” Brandon holds a card, flipping it around to show me a purple walrus. “You want to keep going?”
“I want to keep going. Now pick another.” He scans the cards on the coffee table, face down, and obliges without argument. I think he likes playing games as much as I do. It may be a kid’s game, but every victory strokes his ego. I want to laugh, but it’s kind of cute how proud he is of himself when he matches the right card. It’s also a great sign for his brain injury. Concussions are classified on the milder side but can have lasting effects. Each win runs deeper than just an ego boost where I’m concerned.