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“Because she can form new memories. A lot of people with traumatic brain injuries can’t. They can’t remember things that happened a minute ago, five minutes ago, or even ten minutes. Some go through the day just fine, and then when they wake up the next morning, they have no memories of the day before. Think about that.” He pointed at me. “She lost ten years of her life. Yeah, that sucks, and it’s bad, but it could be far worse.”
I inhaled a sharp breath as I rubbed the back of my neck. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Come here.” He pulled me into an embrace. “You’ll both get through this. This entire family will make sure of it.”
After Jackson and Georgia left, I went upstairs to the bed I hadn’t slept in for over two weeks. Setting my glass of scotch on the nightstand, I stripped out of my clothes and climbed into bed. Picking up my phone, I brought up the pictures and videos of us. Tears streamed down my face as I stared at her smile—a smile I would give anything to see again. The light that once filled her was gone and was now replaced by fear. I let her kick me out today, but it wouldn’t happen again. Whether she believed it or not, she needed me now more than ever.
CHAPTER14
Charlotte
I opened my eyes and found I was still in the hospital. I prayed it was all a nightmare and that when I’d wake up, I’d be back in my bed in my apartment—no such luck. This was now my reality and not 2013 anymore.
“Good morning.” Conner walked in carrying a couple of bags and a drink tray.
“Morning.”
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“They gave me a pill to help me, so not bad.”
“Good. I stopped at Sebastian’s on the way here and brought breakfast.” He took out a Styrofoam box from the bag and set it on my tray. “It’s the egg sandwich you love so much and a coffee.” The corners of his mouth curved upward. “I also have something else for you, but that’ll have to wait until after you eat.”
“I’m not really hungry,” I spoke.
“I don’t believe that. Go on. Eat your breakfast sandwich.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.
“Of course. You can ask me anything.” He went to place his hand on mine, and I quickly pulled it away. “I’m sorry. It’s a habit.”
“Do I live with you?”
“Yes, Charlotte. We live together in our beach house in Venice.”
“We bought it together?” My brows furrowed.
“No. It’s my house, and you moved in. You love it there.”
“Stop telling me what I love!” I spoke with irritation.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying—”
“No. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. So, when I leave here, that means I’m going home with you?”
“Hello there. Good morning.” A handsome man walked into the room.
“Jamieson.” Conner stood up from his chair, and they hugged. “What are you doing here?”
“I talked to Jackson. Hi, Charlotte.” He smiled. “I’m Dr. Jamieson Finn, and I’m a neurosurgeon and Chief of Staff over at the UCLA Medical Center.” He extended his hand.
“Hello, Dr. Finn.” I lightly shook his hand.
“I spoke with Dr. Kind, who informed me that you’re experiencing some memory loss.”
“Ten years’ worth.” I looked down.
“Well, the important thing is you woke up from your coma, you can breathe on your own, all limbs are intact, and you can talk, comprehend, and retain short-term memory. I’d say ten years’ worth of memory loss is not all that bad.” He winked. “I have a friend who is a trauma therapist. Her specialty is working with amnesia patients, and her name is Dr. Lydia Bancroft. She’ll be by to visit you today.”
