Page 71 of Loving Josy
I stare at him, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut.
“What do you mean, temporary?” I ask, my voice rising slightly. “How long could it take for my memories to come back? Days? Weeks? Forever?”
Dr. Locke places a calming hand on the side of my bed. “I know this is overwhelming, but let me reassure you that we’ve seen cases like this where memory improves over time, sometimes as the brain heals and swelling reduces. It could take days or weeks. In rare cases, it might take longer. For now, it’s important to focus on rest and allowing your body to recover. We’ll continue to run tests and monitor your progress.”
I nod numbly, my thoughts spinning. The doctor’s words seem both hopeful and terrifying.
“If you feel any sharp pains, dizziness, or confusion beyond what’s expected, let the nurses know immediately,” Dr. Locke adds. “We’ll be doing regular cognitive tests to assess your memory and mental clarity. You’ll also work with our physical therapists and neurologists as part of your recovery plan.”
He straightens, giving me a moment to absorb everything before continuing. “Do you have any questions for me right now?”
I stare at him, the words forming in my mind, though they feel like a whisper in a storm. “How do I fix this?”
Dr. Locke’s expression softens further. “There’s no single fix for something like this, but you have a team of people here to help you, and it sounds like you’ve got people who care about you outside this hospital. Healing is a process, both physically and mentally. One step at a time.”
I nod again, though it feels more like an instinct than agreement. One step at a time. Right now, it feels like I’m at the bottom of a mountain I can’t even see.
The doctor and nurse leave the room, their words still echoing in my mind.
Retrograde amnesia.
Traumatic brain injury.
Temporary.
Maybe.
I stare after them, feeling hollow. They didn’t even tell me my name. Is it on the chart? Should I have asked? Or do I have to wait for someone—anyone—to come and fill in the blanks for me?
The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the steady beep of the machines. My body feels heavy and the exhaustion is unlike anything I’ve ever known. I look around the sterile room, willing something to trigger a memory, but there’s nothing. No flicker of recognition, no sense of familiarity. Just emptiness.
The door creaks open, and I turn my head, expecting a nurse or doctor. Instead, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen steps inside.
She takes my breath away.
Her dark skin seems to glow despite the faint shadows under her eyes. Her curls frame her face, soft and wild all at once. She’s wearing a dress that hugs her frame, accentuating a prominent baby bump. She looks tired, worn, like she hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in weeks. But even with the exhaustion etched into her features, she’s stunning.
She stops short, her hands flying to her mouth as her wide, tear-filled eyes lock on mine.
We stare at each other in silence, the air thick with an unspoken connection—or at least, I hope there’s a connection. I hope she’s mine. I hope that baby she’s carrying is mine.
God, please let them be mine.
I glance at her hands—no ring. My heart sinks for a moment until I glance down at my own hand. No ring there either.
My mouth feels dry again, and I struggle to find my voice. “Hi,” I manage, the word barely audible.
Her hands drop from her mouth, and she takes a step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “Noah,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
Noah.That name. It feels familiar, like hearing a song you forgot you loved. It settles into my chest, and I know it must be mine.
But who is she? And why does the way she say my name make me feel like I’ve just been found?
Tears spill down her cheeks as she steps closer, and for the first time since waking up, I feel something other than fear.
Hope.
Chapter Thirty-Six
