“Three days.” The nurse patted her arm. “The doctor was ready to send you to a neurosurgeon in Dallas today if you didn’t wake on your own.” She smiled. “Looks like he won’t have to, as long as you check out okay.”
Three days? She’d been out for three days?
“The EMTs couldn’t find any identification on you. Can you tell me your name?”
“Sofia Delgado,” she responded. As soon as the name left her mouth, she frowned. Was that right? Was that her name? Closing her eyes, she searched her memory for the answer. When no other name came to mind, she shrugged. Sofia sounded right.
Then again, it didn’t.
“Sofia, is there anyone we can call to let them know you’re okay?” the nurse asked.
“Grant Hayes,” she said, again, without thinking, like the name had been hardwired into her muscle memory.
“Next of kin?” the nurse asked.
“Husband.” Sofia leaned back against the pillow and drew in a deep breath, hoping it would clear her head. It did...marginally, but not completely.
“Would you happen to remember his phone number?”
Sofia nodded and recited it, having memorized it years earlier.
“I’ll call him and let him know where you are.”
“Tell him to come get me,” Sofia said. “I’m late for work.”
“The doctor might have something to say about that,” the nurse warned as she left the room. Over her shoulder, she called out, “I’ll let you know what I hear from your husband.”
“Thank you,” Sofia closed her eyes, wondering if she’d open them again sooner or later. Three days? She’d landed in a Waco hospital, having lost three days of her life to an accident. “Where was I going?” she whispered as she drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Moments, maybe hours later—she had no idea—a voice sounded, “Avery?”
She forced her eyes open and stared up into the moss green eyes of her husband, Grant Hayes.
Tears welled and leaked out of the corners of her eyes, dropping onto the pillowcase. “Grant,” she whispered, the word catching on a sob.
He leaned over the bed, gently gathered her in his arms and held her, the warmth of his body chasing away the chill of the hospital room.
The nurse who had been in her room earlier entered the room behind Grant. “I take it you two know each other?” Her words were light, but her eyes were narrowed slightly. “This is your husband, right? The man you had me call?”
Grant straightened, clasping her hand in his. He didn’t respond. Instead, he glanced down at her and waited for her to respond to the nurse.
“Yes, of course. This is Grant Hayes.” She smiled up at him. “My husband.”
“Good to know,” the nurse said, though her eyes remained narrow and her brow puckered. “But he says your name is Avery Hart, not Sofia Delgado. The doctor came by an hour ago to speak to you, but you were asleep. He said your head injury might leave you confused with some memory loss.”
Avery glared at Grant and whispered, “You told her my real name?”
He patted her hand. “Avery is a novelist. Sofia Delgado is her pen name.” Grant turned his back to the nurse and winked at Avery. “She’s working on her first big book deal and has been practicing using her pseudonym. Avery Hart is her legal name.”
“Not Hayes?” The nurse shook her head, the crease that crinkled in her brow easing, a half-smile lifting the corner of her lip. “I see more and more where women aren’t changing their surnames just because they get married. Good on you, Avery. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for your book.”
Avery had tuned out what the nurse was saying to her, focusing more on Grant’s announcement.
My name is Avery? She rolled the name around in her head. The more she did, the more it felt right. It fit like an old shoe or a well-worn pair of jeans. “Avery,” she whispered and gave him a crooked smile.
“Her choice of surnames was never an issue in our marriage,” Grant said softly, his gaze sweeping over her, gentle and concerned.
She squeezed his hand. “I probably would’ve changed my name if you’d wanted me to.”
