Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
She tries to shake her head, but her brow furrows in pain.
“Take it easy. No sudden movements,” Dr. Coule says. “You don’t remember what happened?”
“No,” Mom croaks.
Dr. Coule gives her a reassuring smile. “Event amnesia isn’t uncommon with this kind of accident. The brain has to work hard to protect itself. It’s possible your memory of the events will return over time. Your only job now is to rest and heal.”
“Is there a chance she won’t remember?” I ask.
“It’s possible, but usually the memories come back with time.” She tests Mom’s reflexes and ability to follow a pen with her eyes. “Everything looks good. I’ll be back before my shift ends to check in on you, Lucy.” Dr. Coule turns to me. “Your mom will probably only be awake for short periods of time at first, but as she stabilizes, that will increase.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Once the nurse and Dr. Coule leave, I settle into the chair and take her hand again.
She clears her throat and whispers, “Clay.”
“What about Dad?” I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“Is he here?” Her eyes shift toward the door.
I look over my shoulder, but there’s no one there. I shake my head and bite my tongue.
“Can you call him?” she asks.
“You want him to come to the hospital?” My stomach twists and sinks.
She frowns, like she’s trying to figure out my expression. “Time’s it?”
“It’s a little after nine. I can message him, let him know you’re awake, if you want.”
She starts to nod, but grimaces and croaks out, “Please.”
My hands shake as I send a single message. Maybe seeing him will jog her memory. And it’s better that I’m here when he comes. So I can keep her safe.
“How?” she asks.
“How did you get here?”
She taps her chin.
“What happened to my chin?”
“Yes.”
“It was a hockey accident. I’ve been playing for the women’s team at the Hockey Academy. I tripped and split my chin, but it’s fine. The team doctor stitched me up. I’ll explain, but one thing at a time, okay?”
“Okay.” She licks her lips.
“Do you want some water?”
“Please.”
I bring the straw to her lips, and she takes a small sip.
“You really don’t remember what happened?”
She frowns and whispers, “I remember the college letter.”
“That was the night before last. Dad found the letter and the tuition money in my dresser. He went to see friends and came back late. Do you remember that?”
She swallows. “Yes.”
“I had a game the next morning. I didn’t say anything because I knew it would upset Dad more. I split my chin during the game. He was drunk when I came home. You know how he can get when he’s angry. He was really mean, and I just…was tired of feeling bad, so I left. I guess you must have gone outside on the deck. The railing gave way.”
Her eyes widen, and she makes a sound, like a hiccup.
“Do you remember?”
She’s quiet, as if she’s searching for the memory. “Did I fall?”
“I don’t know. But if you remember what happened, you can tell me. You’re safe. Dad isn’t here. It’s okay to tell me the truth.”
Her face falls, and she looks away. “I must have leaned on the railing.”
I shake my head. “You knew how rickety it was.”
She squeezes my hand and gives me a weak smile. “I always forget.”
“No, you don’t.” I drop my head, more tears falling as I whisper, “You were knocked unconscious, Mom. You were in surgery for hours. It’s going to take a while for you to heal. Probably at least a few months.”
“I’m sorry you’ll have to quit hockey.”
That this is her solution to the problem is gutting.
I shake my head. “That’s not fair.”
“Then you won’t hurt yourself, and your dad won’t get so upset.” She smiles, like it’s so easy, like she isn’t dragging me right back into the hell I’ve been fighting to get out of my entire life.
I motion to the hospital room. “The Hockey Academy paid the insurance deductible, Mom, and they’re helping me with the supplemental insurance forms so you can get the care you need. I won’t quit.”
“Knock, knock!” My dad’s voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I turn to find him in the doorway, holding a huge bouquet of wildflowers. Surprisingly, he’s dressed like he gives a shit about his appearance. He’s wearing a short-sleeve button-down shirt that’s about two sizes too big, black dress pants that are an inch too short, and a pair of old running shoes that have been polished to hide the scuff marks.
The worst part is the way my mother’s face lights up.
My dad’s eyes skim over me, narrowing slightly before he plasters on a smile. “Hey, kiddo, it’s good to see you here.”
“Is it?” I glance between them.
He ignores me and rounds the bed, setting the flowers on the side table. He kisses my mother on the forehead. “How’s my girl? Glad you’re awake. Hopefully you’ll be able to come home soon.”