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I’m reclining on a hospital bed in the urgent care center at the hospital. I got here and they shot me full of pain meds and steroids for some reason. Then they ran a bunch of scans and tests. That was way over an hour ago. We haven’t heard from anyone since, and now we’re sitting and waiting—and ruining the day.
“It’s okay, barely a dull thud,” I lie. It hurts like hell, but it’s so much better than it was before, that I can deal. “I’m just pissed I can’t take my girl out on her special day I had planned.”
“You didn’t need to take me anywhere. We just need to get you healthy.”
“I know I didn’t need to—I wanted to, there’s a difference.”
“It’s sweet of you to even plan anything,” she murmurs.
Sometimes when she talks she doesn’t look me in the eyes. Especially if I’ve done something nice for her. I guess that’s not that surprising. From everything she’s told me I had to be a grade-A bastard in the past. She’s not used to me being good to her. That’s changing. She’s letting me in, and I’m going slow—no matter how much my dick protests. I’m going to prove myself to her.
“Mr. Smith, I’m Doctor Joseph. We just got your test—”
“Smith? I think you have the wrong patient,” I tell him confused.
“I’m sorry? Your folder clearly says—”
“Uh… I think I can… I mean I’m pretty sure I can clear this up,” Hope says. My gaze cuts to her and she’s wringing her hands together in her lap. “When Aden… my husband was first brought in after his accident, it took me a bit to get to here. Since he had no memory, the nurses registered him as a Mr. Smith,” she mumbles.
“She’s probably right, Doc. I’m sorry. I’m Aden Hard-Acre.”
“Hardeker?”
I rub the side of my face. How the fuck did I get through life with a name like this?
“Close enough. You want to tell me what is going on?”
“You’ll have to get the admissions department to change the information, they also need your husband’s credentials,” the doctor says, still looking at his paperwork confused.
“Credentials?” Hope asks, her voice tight. This mess is really getting to her. I hate worrying her.
“His social security number, birth date, things of that nature.”
“Oh… his wallet was stolen and—”
“You can just go by and give them the dates. They can pull up whatever they need with just his birthdate and social security number.”
“I…of course. I’ll do that today. I just want to make sure Aden is okay,” Hope speaks up, squeezing my hand tight
I don’t know. I mean, I can’t remember, and everything that Hope has told me about my life before indicates I was an idiot and that I didn’t deserve Hope or Jack. Still, having Hope squeeze my hand, trying to reassure me and talking to the doctor is strange… it makes me feel… weird. Am I used to not having anyone in my life that cared? Hope said there was no one to call, that I had no family. How long have I been on my own? Is that what turned me into the bastard who didn’t appreciate the family I had?
I bring our joined hands up and kiss the back of hers gently.
She turns to look at me and almost immediately her eyes look down at our hands. Something flashes across her face that I don’t like. In that moment she looks lost, and I guess that’s my fault. It’s just further evidence that I’ve hurt her in the past.
“Okay Mr. Hard—”
“Just call me Aden,” I tell him, because I’d rather not hear that other name ever again.
“You’ve had a rough go of it. I know. I had hoped we’d have better news for you, but the truth is we can’t really find an explanation for your amnesia. Of course, our resources here aren’t great and I still say you need to follow up with a head trauma specialist in Boise.”
“But what about the headache he had, doctor? The pain was so bad he could barely walk,” Hope interjects.
“Ms. Hard—”
“Lucas. I uh… didn’t take my husband’s last name.”
“I see,” he answers. “Well quite simply, your husband has suffered a major trauma,” he answers and then turns his attention back to me. “Aden, sometimes during the healing process these things can occur, because there was some strain and swelling. It’s perfectly normal. I’m going to prescribe some medicine to help with the pain and steroids to help with the issues you’re having.”
“You said healing process, though. Do you think I will get my memory back?”
The doctor studies me for a moment and then his face goes a little grim as he tightens his mouth before he answers. “There’s no way of knowing. It’s been close to what… a month now? Honestly, it might still. You could just be sitting there and something triggers it and it will all come rushing back or…
