Page 46 of Shy Girls Can't Date Celebrities
“I don’t know either,” he murmurs. “I don’t know where I live, go to school, or if I have any friends. It scares the crap out of me.”
I squeeze his hand, feeling foolish for being scared when his reality is so much more up-ended than mine.
“But... if, if I can... can have you,” he stammers, lowering my hand, “I, I think it’ll be okay.”
My eyes grow glossy and I nod with a small smile. “I want to stick by you.”
He pushes himself off the pillows, leaning himself closer to me near the edge of his bed. “I can’t explain why I shut you out in the past. If I can get you an-an-answers, I will.”
“I’ll try to stop obsessing over it,” I say, shifting my weight. “I just can’t help feeling like I’m not meant to be here.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” he asks urgently. “I sure as heck want you here.”
“All I want is to be around you. Even if it’s just today.”
The sleep disappears from his eyes. “It won’t be just for today.”
“I don’t want you stressing about us falling out of touch. The doctorsaid it wouldn’t be good for you.”
“But I’ve upset you. I want to fix it.”
“You can’t. You don’t remember.” I rest my hands on his shoulders and sigh. “Besides, you can’t change the past.”
“Evening, Mr. Hayes,” a nurse says, walking into the room. She abruptly clears her throat, eyeing our closeness. “Oh, sorry for the intrusion.”
Wyatt hums a laugh. “It’s okay, Liza. We just wanted dinner.”
I jut my mouth open, looking at the nurse who clearly isn’t Liza. I turn back at Wyatt, who doesn’t seem to register the mistake.
“Dear, Liza has finished her shift,” the nurse says gently. “I’m Ronnie.”
Wyatt recoils, but I hold him close. “Oh.” His frown is hard lined, clearly frustrated at himself. “Sorry.”
Ronnie bats a hand. “Don’t worry about it. This nurses’ uniform has us all melded into one blob. Sometimes, I wish I forgot our names too.”
I cringe. Somehow, I don’t think that is the best thing to say to someone suffering from memory loss. Wyatt’s posture droops under my hands, and I give him an encouraging smile.
“I’ll get the dinner service to come by soon,” Ronnie says, scribbling something onto a chart. “Then I’ll be back to give you a new dose of medication.”
“Thanks,” Wyatt mutters.
Ronnie leaves the room and Wyatt huffs, hanging his head low.
“You just woke up,” I whisper, combing my hand through his soft, sandy hair. “And Liza was here all day. Honest mistake.”
He lifts his head, exhaustion returning to his face. “What happens when I’m not in the clinic bubble? People won’t be so quick to blame the head injury. I’ll just be the dumb guy who can’t remember anything.”
I cup his face with earnestness. “You’re not dumb.”
“I’ve always been dumb. You know that.”
“Wyatt,” I scold. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“We only met because I repeated a grade. Only dumb people are held back.”
“You’re more than your learning style. You’re creative and talented.”
“I’m dumb and I’m broken.”
