“Oftentimes, in amnesia cases like this, the brain will link trauma to trauma, and I believe that is what we are dealing with here.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s sort of as I explained to you about why we had to place you in a coma. Your injuries caused you a great deal of pain, and your brain was at risk of shutting down because of it. What we are facing now is the same idea but related to memory instead. You experienced trauma, and your brain connected it to past trauma, erasing the time in-between.”
My throat runs dry, my legs prickling. “I don’t think I’m following. What trauma? New trauma?”
What could have possibly happened to me that ached like that night did?
Was it about the baby?
Had I already lost it?
My sniffles grow choppier, and it doesn’t take long before my chest is sputtering, the movement creating an ache through my entire upper body, reminding me of my wounds on the outside, but it’s nothing compared to the pain within.
I was going to be a mom, something I’ve always dreamed of, but imagined would happen later in life. It was the only thing I was certain of, the one thing I wanted more than anything else, and I can’t even remember if I knew about the little blessing before I lost him.
A good mother would remember that no matter what.
Wouldn’t she?
Dr. Brian says something, but I have no idea what and then he walks out.
My eyes close.
I was told I was only seven weeks pregnant, not far along enough to know the sex… and not far along enough to have gotten pregnant over the summer.
That means Chase wasn’t the father, that’s what my brother shared.
Unless we found each other again and nobody knew it?
He would have come to me when I cried, held me and cried with me if that were true, wouldn’t he have?
My body racks with silent sobs, and when I force my eyes open, my brother’s find mine.
He hesitates a moment, and I curl my toes in my socks, anxious. “Ari—”
He’s cut off when there’s a soft rap against the wall.
All our heads snap toward the door, and my stomach drops at the sight.
Broken blue eyes flash in my mind, and my hand twitches, remembering the feel of the one that held mine the day my eyes opened in this room.
Juliet, open your eyes…
My brows cave as I look him over.
Dark hair tousled, eyes a deep, depthless blue.
It’s the guy I met this summer. The guy from the beach.
A friend of my brother’s.
A friend of mine?
“Noah,” I don’t mean to say out loud, but it slips from my lips.
My brother jerks beside me, and a choppy exhale pours from Noah’s lips.
My stomach tightens, and his forehead follows suit.
“I was hit by your football.”
He swallows. “You were.”
“You came to the bonfire.”
“I didn’t stay long.”
“I know, I remember.”
He licks his lips, giving a stiff nod. “I have that effect.”
A small laugh slips from me, but I cut it short the second I realize, and something softens in his gaze. As if it takes effort, he jerkily tears his eyes away. He looks to my brother, but only for a moment, before his gaze comes right back to me.
There’s something a little different about him, but I can’t put my finger on what.
“I, um,” he begins, the rasp in his tone rattling my throat. “I can’t stay.”
Mason flies to his feet so fast his shoes squeak against the floor, and a strange sense of unease builds behind my ribs.
“Okay.”
Noah looks up at the ceiling a moment, and when his gaze comes back, it’s beaten. “I found some people you’ll be really happy to see,” he tells me.
I don’t take my eyes off his as he glances behind him, and then he moves aside, someone else stepping through.
Relief wooshes through me, and my face falls into my hands, full, heavy weeps instantly tearing from me, completely overcome with the most welcome sight.
I sob, my body shaking, and then strong arms wrap around me, holding me close. “Dad.”
“It’s okay, baby girl.” His voice cracks. “It’s okay. I’m here. Your mama’s here.”
Mason sniffles beside me, and then my mom is there, running her hands over my hair. I fall into her chest, and my dad holds us close, but not before my attention is called across the room.
To Noah.
Who is already staring, and while he seems to ease before my eyes, his tell a different story. Only, before I’m given the chance to look further, he’s gone.
Noah
* * *
Outside the door, I fall against the wall, my eyes closing as I drag a deep breath through my nostrils, slowly blowing the air from my mouth.
I left again, walked out.
I looked into my baby’s eyes, saw that familiar flicker burn within them, and watched it fade away.
Again.
It took all I had not to go to her, to drop to my knees beside her and kiss her. To kiss the spot that would soon grow with our child if the world had been kinder.