Page 7 of Yours Truly, Fall

“Good.” She takes a few steps back, then rolls her wrist in the air. “Back to bed and the Golden Girls for me. But before I go, you’re doing the good work, Autumn. Your parents would be so proud of you, like I am.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” Resting my hands on the hard desk, I say, “But next time I forget my lunch, you don’t need to come in the middle of the night to bring it to me. Like I tell my patients, rest is important.”

“So is sustenance.” She starts toward the exit. “I’ll see you tomorrow, honey.”

“See you tomorrow.” Before she disappears, I call out, “Thanks for the visit and the food.”

With a wave over her head, she replies, “Anytime.”

I was irritated a few hours ago when I realized I'd forgotten my food in the fridge at home. As much as I wish my grandmother didn’t feel obligated to deliver it to me, seeing her makes me feel better.

I crack open the shake and take a few sips before I start to prepare for the next round of patient visits. Pulling up each of the charts, I need to give a pill to the first patient, but the second gets to sleep through the night.

As for Brandon, I verify he doesn’t need anything unless he’s in pain. Hopefully, he’s been able to get some sleep. If not, I’m here to help whether he remembers me or not. Is it wrong for me to want the former?

I really shouldn’t want either, considering our past, or lack thereof, but the thought of him not knowing who I am kind of stings like a fresh papercut. The bleeding will stop, but everything that comes in contact with it after will remind me of the initial pain all over again.

I’m making a big deal of nothing. If he has lost his memory, surely it’s temporary. Bodies and minds are amazing at protecting us until we’re safe. He’s safe, so I bet his memories, including what happened sophomore year, will all come rushing back like a time capsule ready to erupt. And then he’ll wish he’d forgotten altogether. Or maybe that’s just me who wishes I didn’t remember.

I start my rounds knowing I’m about to find out.

CHAPTER 4

BRANDON

Staring at the door for the past twenty minutes hasn’t made it open. At least not yet. I’m still hopeful, like an idiot, that the pretty redheaded nurse can read my mind. I could have pushed the call button, and I have no doubt she would have returned quickly, but considering I don’t technically require anything, I haven’t resorted to that level of neediness.

My head throbs like it always does in the eleventh hour of the pain meds wearing off, so I stay still, not wanting to make it worse or awaken the anger in my back. I flick on the TV, needing the distraction. Overhearing the paramedics say I’m lucky to be alive has been running through my head for the past hour. It’s hard to feel lucky when I’m laid up like this.

I should be focusing on healing to get out of this hospital sooner, but I can already tell it’s going to be an annoying journey to recovery. A sexy nurse doesn’t hurt with the healing process, so I shouldn’t be in such a hurry. But these sterile beige walls are going to get old fast. They already have.

The door opens, causing my gaze to whip to the side. I reach up to soothe the muscle I just tweaked in my neck but stop when I realize I almost ripped the IV out of my hand.

“You’re awake?” the night nurse asks, slipping in like she’s breaking the rules before closing the door quickly behind her.

“I’m awake.” And apparently, I’ve lost all game. I smile, not because she’s made a routine round checkup feel like we’re up to no good, but because her smile evokes mine without permission. It might be the middle of the night, but sunshine appears when she walks into the room. The beige walls are not so dull with her soft smile around to brighten things up. Strands of her shoulder-length hair fall to the side of her face before she tucks them behind her ear. So many colorful rays shine throughout it, but even in the low light of the room, I can see the most prominent is a striking red. She’s pretty without any noticeable makeup, and even baggy scrubs can’t hide her great body underneath.

When she comes closer, her eyes are lighter than mine, but the TV screen doesn’t reflect enough light to know if they’re green or blue. I’m hoping green to make a stunning combination with her hair. She asks, “How are you feeling? Any pain?”

I shift without thinking and instantly regret it. Groaning, I grit, “A little.”

“Seems like more than a little. I’ll get you something for that.” She wraps her fingers around the rail, studying me like I’m her personal experiment. “What about your appetite? I read in your chart that you haven’t eaten much.”

No ring.

No indentation.

Nothing is wrapped around her finger.

The heart monitor kicks up, exposing me. I grin. “I could eat.”

Her eyes shift to the monitor beside her, though. Busted. When she looks back at me, a laugh tickles her throat before she clears it. “Are you okay?”

“Great. Never better.”

Her eyebrows shoot straight to the ceiling. “Really? I would think you’ve been better.” She laughs, the soft melody overlapping the sports update on the TV. I click mute, hoping for the sound of her to fill the room instead.

Chuckling, I reply, “Yeah, I’ve been better.” I pick at a loose thread on the thin blanket covering my legs. “Any word on when I’m getting out of here?”