Page 72 of Loving Josy
Josy
Istepped out of Noah’s room at lunchtime, my stomach growling loud enough to make staying impossible. No one could bring me lunch today, and as much as I hated leaving his side, I knew I needed to eat. The hospital cafeteria wasn’t exactly inviting, but it offered something I desperately needed. A change of scenery.
For the past seven days, I’d been holed up in Noah’s room, surrounded by the rhythmic beeping of monitors and the sterile scent of antiseptic. I hadn’t realized how suffocating it was until I stepped away. Seeing him asleep, still and unresponsive, day after day, was eating me alive. The uncertainty was a weight on my chest that no amount of tears, prayers, or pleas to God could lift.
I forced myself to eat, though every bite felt like a chore. My mind remained tethered to him, counting the minutes until I could go back. By the time I returned, I felt the same mix of dread and hope that greeted me every time I walked through that door.
Now, I’m standing in front of Noah’s bed, staring into eyes I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again. His beautiful brown eyes. They’re open, wide and alert, and they’re fixed on me.
The way he looks at me is as if he’s seeing me for the first time. His gaze is slow, deliberate, taking me in from head to toe. It’s not just recognition. It’s... something else.
The hairs on my arms stand on end, and a shiver runs down my spine.
Tears blur my vision and spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. I press a trembling hand to my mouth, overwhelmed. He looks the same as before, but better. Alive. Awake. And yet, there’s something in his expression that sends a ripple of unease through me.
“Noah,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
He doesn’t respond right away, his brow furrowing slightly as if the name is unfamiliar. My heart clenches, the brief flash of hope threatened by the shadow of doubt.
But his lips part, and he speaks. His voice is hoarse, rough from disuse. “Hi.”
That single word is everything and nothing all at once. It’s him. He’s here. But the way he said it—tentative, uncertain—makes my stomach twist.
I take a step closer, my tears falling faster now. “You’re awake,” I choke out, as if saying it aloud will make it more real.
He blinks, his expression softening but still holding a faint edge of confusion. “Yeah... I guess I am.”
His voice, his presence—it’s a miracle. But the way he’s looking at me like I’m a stranger, makes my stomach twist uneasily.
“Who are you?” Noah asks, his voice soft but filled with genuine confusion.
My heart sinks. “What do you mean?” I ask, though I already fear the answer.
“I don’t remember anything,” he says, his brow furrowed. “I’m assuming my name is Noah since that’s what you just called me. But besides that... I don’t know anything.”
“Really?” Panic rises in my chest, and I force myself to stay calm. “Let me call the doctor, and we’ll see what’s happening.”
He shakes his head slightly, a timid smile curving his lips. “It’s okay. He was just here and told me that memory loss is normal after injuries like mine. He said it might take a few days or even weeks to come back.” His voice softens, his expression apologetic. “I’m sorry that I don’t know who you are.”
My heart aches at his words. I swallow hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. I can’t believe he doesn’t remember me. My heart starts beating too fast, and I struggle to breathe, trying to keep the rising panic attack at bay. I take a step back—I need to go outside and lose it where he can’t see me. I don’t want Noah to worry.
“Give me a second,” I whisper as I turn to leave the room.
“Wait, don’t go. Are you okay?” He sounds concerned.
“I’m okay. It’s just… this news rattled me, and I need a moment to think and calm down.” I try to smile, but my racing heart hasn’t slowed.
“I understand that it might be weird that I don’t remember, but I don’t want you to go. Sit and tell me your name.”
The way he says it—so calm—somehow soothes me. I can’t fall apart right now. Noah needs me, and I need to pull myself together. I stare at this wonderful man and nod before stepping closer to his bed, sinking into the chair I vacated earlier.
“I’m Josy.”
“Josy,” he repeats, as if testing the name on his tongue. A smile spreads across his face, faint crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. Despite the pain and disorientation written all over him, the smile makes him look boyishly charming.
“This might sound way too forward since I just met you,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice, “but by any chance... are you mine?”
His words catch me off guard, and I laugh despite myself. He looks so genuinely curious, his brows slightly raised as he waits for an answer. Deciding to play along, I tilt my head and smile.
