Page 20 of Finally Forever
“Everything looks great,” the nurse says with enthusiasm, then smiles reassuringly at the blonde. “You can breathe easier now. He has done well.”
Why is she talking to this young woman as if I matter to her? I’ve never seen her before in my life. I would remember someone like her, especially with all that hair.
The doctor says, “Do you remember how you got here?”
I shake my head, surprised at the stiffness in my neck.
“You have an old head injury from a car accident.”
My brows pull together with confusion.
“Fluid collected in the area and caused some swelling. We relieved the pressure and put you into an induced coma to help aid the healing and swelling process. I assume you were experiencing headaches or migraines prior to this?”
“No,” I croak and stop myself from adding,not that I can remember.
“Most likely, you were. Those are signs. If you experience them again, I suggest seeing a doctor immediately.”
None of this makes sense. I glance at the two people I don’t know but who are hanging on the doctor’s every word.
“You did remarkably well healing,” the doctor adds. “I don’t think there will be any additional issues; this can happen after an injury to the brain like you sustained. To be safe, I would recommend having regular checkups for the next year. Eventually, if no more fluid or swelling occurs, you can go down to annual visits. I can recommend a specialist.” He nods at the nurse, and she inputs information onto a touch pad.
I open my mouth to respond, but the doctor holds up his hand. “No need to speak through the pain.”
“It’s fine,” I mumble, more annoyed than in agony. Old habits kick in, and I push the pain from both my head and throat to a dark recess in my mind.
“I’ll get some ice chips,” the nurse says and leaves the room.
“Do you know your name?” the doctor asks.
“Sebastian,” I answer.
“Do you know where you live?”
“Florida.”
The doctor nods, but his expression shifts with uncertainty. I learned how to read people at an early age, per my father’s teachings. The eyes, facial expressions, body language, and what people say or rather don’t say are all tells. Even with the injury to my head, my brain is sharp, my instincts and habits as strong as ever.
“Do you know where you are?”
“A hospital.” Which hospital, I couldn’t say. I was unconscious when I was brought in. Come to think of it, who brought me in?
He speaks quickly, his accent stronger, making it sound like he’s speaking in French rather than English. All I catch is the wordSaintand the part where he says, “in Marseille, France.”
I try to sit up, but my body doesn’t respond the way my instincts want.
“Rest. You will be here for at least another week recovering.”
Here! In France! For another week!“How did I get to France?” I ask, sounding like a toad.
The doctor exchanges a look with the blonde. “You live here.”
My gaze swings to the woman and the man before returning to the doctor. “Who are they?”
The blonde gasps. From my peripheral, I see her cup her mouth.
“This can happen,” the doctor says to the woman and the man. “Memory loss can be a temporary side effect.” To me, he asks, “What is the last thing you remember about your life?”
I wrack my brain. “College. My roommates. Nathan and Riley.”Marina, my fiancée. I don’t say her name out loud. The thought of her causes more distress to my brain than the injury. Thinking about my asshole father does too, and the fact that he bought a fucking house in Winter Park, Florida, to maintain control over me. No matter where I go, I can’t get far enough away. Only through death will I be rid of him and his watchful eye. Is that why I’m in France? Did I flee here? Did I finally grow the balls to escape? A better question is, did I succeed?
