Page 77 of Imperfect Cadence

Grayson

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I had no clue how long I’d been trapped in this hospital bed. My consciousness seemed to ebb and flow, drifting in and out and I was never truly sure of the distinction between reality and dreams. There were fragmented memories, fleeting glimpses of faces, and snippets of conversations with nurses that slipped from my grasp as quickly as they came. I could definitely recall Remy’s face along with Colt’s, but whether those encounters were real or figments of my drug-addled mind remained a mystery.

Surveying the giant plaster cast encasing my right leg, adorned with an array of sinister looking metal pins, and the relentless pressure building at the front of my skull, I gathered something terrible had happened to me. The unsettling part was that I had zero recollection of how I had ended up here, or even where “here” was. The last concrete memory I possessed was entering Violet’s room asking about her laundry.

Shit. Violet!

Where the hell was my kid? Was she safe? Had she been hurt too?

“Whoa, calm down, buddy,” a soothing voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts, drawing my attention to the doorway. A nurse approached me with a calm demeanor, prompting me to fully take stock of my surroundings for the first time.

I found myself sprawled in a surprisingly spacious hospital bed, a stark contrast to my previous experiences with hospital accommodations. Back in my football days, when I regularly sprained something or gave myself a concussion, those beds had been cramped, barely able to contain my bulk. Yet here I was, somehow granted more breathing room than I had on my own mattress at home.

Glancing around the room, it dawned on me that not only did I have the luxury of a private room complete with an ensuite bathroom, but the entire furnishings looked fancy as fuck. It resembled the opulent rooms of a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, at least based on what little I had gleaned from Violet’s penchant for binge-watching episodes of Botched. As grateful as I was for the comfort, I needed to speak to someone about being moved immediately, knowing without a doubt that I couldn’t afford to stay in a room like this.

Hell, I’d have to sell a kidney on the black market just to pay for the hospital bills I must have already racked up.

“Are you in any pain or discomfort, Grayson? Is that what’s got you so worked up?” the nurse asked as he started flicking through my chart he’d unhooked from the foot of the bed.

“Um, a little. I guess?” I sounded uncertain, as if I were seeking confirmation from him. Like he would fucking know, Grayson. That’s why he asked you.

“Alright, we’ll get you something for that. Can you take some deep breaths for me?” he requested, reaching for my wrist to assess my pulse.

I tried to do as he asked, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. “What happened?” I blurted out.

The nurse let out a quiet chuckle. “Right on time. Alice owes me twenty bucks,” he muttered, though I got the impression he hadn’t intended for me to hear that.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” he replied, a faint blush coloring his dark cheekbones. “You've just asked that question every time someone has come into your room.”

“Then why hasn’t anyone told me?” I grumbled in frustration.

“We have, Grayson. You sustained a pretty nasty concussion in your accident. Your short-term memory isn’t gonna be great for the next little while. Don’t worry, though. I know it can be frustrating, but your neurologist has assured us that you will fully recover with time,” the nurse explained calmly.

Well, that certainly explained the killer headache. Damn, I felt like I had something important to ask him, but it had slipped from my mind like water through my fingers.

“Now, let me give you a quick recap. You were involved in a head-on collision when you were driving on Monday night. Today is now Friday. From what I’ve gathered, the accident wasn’t your fault, and the other individual involved in the accident also sustained injuries, but will recover just fine. You tend to get pretty upset if we don’t tell you that, so I’ve made a note in your chart to mention it straight away,” he continued, a hint of amusement in his chuckle as he adjusted the blood pressure cuff around my arm, pushing a button that caused it to start strangling my bicep.

“You pretty much shattered your right leg in the accident, and you required extensive surgery to repair the damage. You’re very lucky that Dr. Turnbull was on duty, because I don’t know if any other surgeon would have even attempted to salvage your leg given the extent of the injury.” He shook his head slightly as he made notes on my chart, his expression a mix of incredulity and admiration.

“Let’s see, what else? Ah, yes! Violet is fine, she wasn’t in the vehicle with you. She is being cared for by a guy called Remy,” he reassured me.

“How long will I need to stay here?” I rasped, my throat parched. I felt myself beginning to be overwhelmed, so I tried to focus on inhaling deep, even breaths.

“As soon as you pass our memory tests, you’ll be cleared to go home. But, I want to be upfront with you—this hospital stay is the easy part. You’ve got a long road ahead of you with physical therapy if you want to be able to walk normally again.”

“So, just a few weeks and I’ll be up and running?” I joked, my attempt to lighten the mood falling flat as I glanced back down at the sheer number of bandages holding me together.

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Grayson, with an injury like this, recovery takes time—progress is measured in months, not weeks. But I don’t want you to worry. Your family is arranging the best possible care for you, and I hear you used to be an athlete. That’s always a positive in cases like this. You already understand the concept of “no pain, no gain.” I know you’re going to be just fine.”

“Um, I think you have the wrong guy. I don’t have any family,” I interjected, confused all over again.

“Oh, well, I spoke with your husband over the phone, and he’s already organized a contractor to come in and install handrails in your bathroom,” he replied casually.

“Husband?” I echoed.

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