The room grows cold all of the sudden, and I’m overwhelmed with that anxious, claustrophobic feeling I’ve always gotten when I feel helpless and out of control. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“She’s awake? Talking?” The deep, familiar voice rips my attention away from Dr. Reid and to the other side of the room, where Max Hallowell is bursting through the door, worry creasing his gorgeous face as his eyes roam over me in my no-dignity hospital gown.
Not that my day was going great before this moment, what with the drunken, cleated clowns dancing inside my skull, and amnesia diagnosis and all, but Max Hallowell seeing me in this condition—and especially in this gown—sends my day from shitty to you’ve-got-to-be-effing-kidding-me.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the nurse says. “Immediate family only. You need to leave.”
Ignoring her, he rushes over to my bed and rests his big hand gently against my face. The feel of his rough palm against the skin of my cheek has my heart pounding fast and hard. Max is touching me.
This is definitely a dream.
“Sir!” the nurse scolds.
“I am her family,” he bites out.
“It’s okay,” Nix tells the nurse.
Max’s gaze drifts to my hand and he adds, “I’m her fiancé.”
I draw in my breath so hard and fast that my bruised ribs wail against my expanded lungs. Then I see what he was looking at. The fat diamond winks up at me from my ring finger as if it knows all my secrets. My world is spinning. This all has to be some kind of elaborate joke, and I don’t think it’s funny at all.
“Baby,” he whispers. “Do you remember yet? What happened?”
“She doesn’t remember,” Lizzy says, her voice cold.
I feel like everyone is twenty steps ahead of me. “Fiancé?”
“Hanna has a case of retrograde amnesia,” Nix tells Max. “This can happen with head injuries.”
“But it’s not like normal amnesia,” Lizzy objects. “She knows who she is. She knows who I am.”
“Her most recent memory seems to be of a night in September,” the doctor says patiently. “Retrograde amnesia isn’t the same as global amnesia. Likely, her memory of everything before that point is just fine. That’s why she remembers Lizzy and you, who she’s always known, but doesn’t remember me, since we just met in December.”
“She lost only part of her memory?” Liz asks. “Will it come back?”
I’m too busy looking at the ring. A ring from Max. How could I forget that?
“There’s a strong possibility most of her memory of the months in between will come back. Possibly in hours, but it could take up to a few weeks or months.”
The blood drains from Max’s face and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Last September?”
“Most of her memory?” Lizzy asks. “She won’t remember everything?”
I can’t pretend to understand the emotions going over Max’s face. Honestly, I don’t know him that well. Or…do I? I shake my head, trying to focus as Nix explains my condition to Max and Liz. Retrograde amnesia. Don’t know when or if my memories will come back. Spontaneous recovery is likely. Little by little but not all at once. Timeline is different for every patient.
“You remember Max, don’t you, Hanna?” Lizzy is asking. She’s moved closer to my bed now too. It’s starting to feel crowded in here. Too many people and these things they’re saying that don’t make any sense.
“Of course I remember Max,” I mutter. “We all grew up together.”
“Do you remember this?” He picks up my hand and rubs his thumb over my finger. “Do you remember me giving it to you?”
“Yeah,” Lizzy says. “When did that happen anyway? Was anyone going to bother to tell me my twin sister is getting married?”
I can barely process Lizzy’s frustrated questions. I’m too focused on retrieving a memory of this ring. Max down on one knee, music, candlelight, anything. But the ring is as meaningful to me as the doctor who says I call her Nix. “I…I want to remember.”
He closes his eyes, shielding them from me as his broad chest rises and falls on a deep breath.
“We’ll need to run some tests,” Nix says. “But the best thing you can do for Hanna is give her time. She needs rest and support right now. Not stress.”