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“Maybe it’s best if you wait outside,” the nurse said to Charli.
“But he’s my husband.”
Husband. Finn’s chest squeezed tight, his lungs constricting. Chaos creaked and splintered inside his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Horror clawed at his throat. Husband. Baby. I’m seventeen. There’s no way I can . . .
“This is a lot for him to take in at the moment. Just give him some time,” the nurse said, leading Charli out of the room. Her watery eyes were as dark as the river Styx. And just as hopeless too.
His heart lurched. Why did it feel like this was wrong? He didn’t really know her, but there was something there. Something about the way those pain-filled brown spheres called to him deep inside his soul. He slammed his eyes shut, severing the portal before she exited the room.
He fisted the sheets, every muscle tense. Monitors beeped; alarms blared. The doctor’s voice curtly demanded he calm down.
Finn gasped as two sets of arms grabbed his. His eyes shot back open.
“Son!” His father’s voice boomed, thrusting him out of the violent twist of panicked emotions he’d been caught in.
“Finn!” his mother cried out, rubbing up and down his arm.
“I don’t want to have to give you a sedative,” the doctor warned.
Finn forced himself to take slow breaths. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.
“Get me a mirror,” Finn rasped.
His mother frowned. “What?”
“I want a mirror.”
The doctor nodded and disappeared for a moment before coming back with the nurse and a handheld mirror. Finn took it, heaving in a deep inhale before flipping it over. He swallowed hard. His skin burned like it had been set on fire. It was him, but it wasn’t. They were telling the truth. Finn was all grown up now. Gone were the patches of facial hair he thought passed as a goatee. He ran a hand over the thick scruff, the beginning of a beard. His eyes and forehead had lines that weren’t there before. His face was all hard edges, even with the stitches on his chestnut skin.
“What happened?” Finn ran his finger over the white gauze on his forehead and winced.
“You and your friend, Eric, were fishing. On the highway home, a drunk driver swerved into your lane. There was an explosion. We removed a piece of shrapnel from your skull, but we believe you hit your head on impact. We replaced a piece of your frontal and parietal bone with a metal plate.”
Finn squinted his eyes and handed the item back to the nurse. He turned to his mother. “It’s true?”
She covered her mouth and nodded. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetie. The important thing is you’re alive.”
His gaze flicked to his father. “I’m married?”
His father tipped his head. “Yes. And they need you.”
There was no mistaking his meaning. The message his father had repeated to him all his life echoed in his head. A man takes care of his responsibilities, son. You gotta man up; no one said it was gonna be easy. Sometimes you gotta do what’s best for everyone but you.
Finn swallowed and nodded, trying to wrap his mind around it all. His head pounded, his body aching. Exhaustion clung to every cell as he settled back on the bed, spent. His eyes fluttered closed. A warm, soft hand caressed his arm. “Rest, sweetheart. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
But would he ever truly wake up and remember? Or was he supposed to live a life he didn’t recall choosing? This had to be a nightmare. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, the next time he opened them he’d be in study hall and this would all be a very bad memory.
* * *
A full week later, Finn was able to stay awake for more than a few hours and he was itching to get out of the hospital. His father had to fly back to New Hampshire to take care of their bar, The Shipwreck, but his mother stayed. And Charli.
When his eyes were closed, he’d sense her in the room, her hand slipping into his. He’d almost grown accustomed to the steady thrum of electricity that radiated from the connection. When he was awake, she stayed farther away, her sad eyes flickering with hope before each new test the doctor ran, only to be dimmed a little more when the results came back. They had no idea why he couldn’t remember almost half his life.
A near constant headache throbbed in his skull—another wonderful side effect. It got worse the more he tried to focus on something and strained to remember. The doctor said this would happen. Along with a laundry list of symptoms like blurred vision, pain, and emotional storms.
“If you find yourself having a memory and experiencing any of these symptoms, you need to take a break. It can do more harm than good and cause you physical pain if you stress yourself out with too much information at once. You don’t want to overload your system as you heal,” one of his many doctors had explained.
Charli swiped a hand over her belly as she asked, “How will I know if something is too much for him?”
