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“I’m Dr. Manson,” he said when we looked up. He reminded me of a surfer who’d yanked back his long hair into a guy bun and tugged on some scrubs. I half expected flip-flops on his feet but found Chucks. “Obviously, you’re Felix, and you’re…”
“My girlfriend,” Felix answered before I could reply. “Breezy.”
“Ex-girlfriend. I’m the one who pulled him out of the water.”
The doc chuckled looking at his tablet. “Pretty sure my exes would have let me drown.” He tapped the screen then propped his hip against the foot of the bed. “So I have you’re prelim blood work though it’ll take a bit longer for the rest. You want to tell me what happened?”
“I don’t know,” Felix replied. He shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I was at work, at the new construction site over on Seaway, then next I know, I was in the sand and Breezy was there.”
“Did you get hurt on the job? Hit your head?”
“I don’t think so. I have a headache…”
The doc put down the tablet and came around to Felix’s other side. I watched silently as he palpated Felix’s head to check for injury. “I bet you’ve had a lot of headaches, haven’t you? And maybe blurry vision and weakness.”
“Uh…well…”
“You’re blood work is telling stories on you, man. Your A1C and glucose are almost off the charts and you have a raging blood infection. Do you have a skin injury or a cut that hasn’t healed or just recently healed?”
“No.”
Moving back to his tablet, Dr. Manson marked a few notes, then raised his assessing gaze to Felix’s arm where myriad tattoos were visible.
“New ink recently?”
“Yeah, but it’s healed. I got it over at Sizzle Drizzle. Everything seemed clean.”
“I’m sure it was,” the doc said, pushing up his scrub sleeve enough to show the script words on his inner bicep. “Got this there a few weeks ago, and everything was pristine. Kinda weird getting a tattoo from someone with no tattoos, but she’s top notch. But back to you… Show me the ink.”
Felix yanked up his T-shirt to reveal the mark on his ribs. A black, slightly filigreed starfish. “See. Healed.”
The physician examined it. “And at what expense?” He raised a brow then shook his head. “So this is what I’m guessing, based on what you said happened and what this blood work is telling me. Besides being a dumbass—”
I couldn’t believe he said that, and I couldn’t keep in my snorted laugh.
“—you experienced what’s referred to as Transient Global Amnesia.”
“Will it happen again?” I asked, horrified that such a thing might happen. What if it occurred again and he walked in front of a car?
“Probably not. If he gets his act together, anyway.” He looked back to his patient. “We’re going to pump you up with IV antibiotics and see what we can do about bringing down your glucose level, without crashing you. And we’ll see how you’re doing in a couple hours. By then we’ll have the rest of your blood work, and I’ll decide if you can safely go home.”
Felix nodded, not even seeming affected by his doctor low-key telling him off.
Dr. Manson patted the end of the bed. “Okay, see you in a little bit.”
We remained silent after he left. Felix squeezed my fingers, drawing my attention to the fact I still held his hand. It seemed so natural, I hadn’t even noticed. His grasp tightened when I started to pull away.
“I didn’t cheat on you,” he said, returning to the argument we’d been having. His urgent whisper raised goosebumps along my skin. “Not with AnnMarie. Not with anyone.” He pointed at the new tattoo on his right side, over his ribs. “You’re my starfish. I would never throw you away. I would never do anything to ruin what we had. Back when we first started, I didn’t understand the love we’d have or how special you are or how you’remine.But by the time we were in high school, I knew. Nothing has shaken that. Nothing ever will. If I don’t have you… I don’t. Want.Anything.”
Chapter Three
~ Felix ~
Dr. Manson wasn’t wrong. I was a dumbass. But even more, I couldn’t find my way out of the maze I’d tangled myself into. Somehow, I needed to keep my hold on one person while not giving away the confidence of another. And I was basically shit at telling lies or keeping secrets.
Hours later, the doctor’s words still repeated over and over in my head while Breezy drove me to my apartment—the apartment she was supposed to move into with me at the end of her last semester. Instead, by then, we’d broken up and I’d been in a tailspin.
I guess I should have taken the time to “find myself” and see who I was without Breezy as a constant fixture as she had been for years. What I’dfoundwas misery.
