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“You’re having a flashback, Jess.” Troy’s voice breaks through the fuzz in my head. The deep, grounding sound of it brings my world into focus, but the throb-throb-throb of my brain turns my stomach queasy.
I unhook my arms from around my bent knees and blindly reach for Bailey. My hand searches for her, my fingertips brushing the rough hospital sheets. Then I remember she’s not in the hospital with me like I wish she were. My source of comfort, my lifeline is recovering at the vet clinic.
She’s going to be okay. I got her to the clinic in time.
I switch my focus before I fall down the tunnel of despair, and I knead my arm like Robyn taught me to do.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The slight squeeze-release-squeeze sensation on my biceps helps to further ground me. Helps to bring me back to the here and now. Back to the ER exam room.
Think of a happy memory or about something that makes you smile.
Robyn’s instructions slip in past the throbbing. I dig deep, pulling up a memory of Amelia toddling ahead of me on the beach, wearing only her swim diaper. High above us, seagulls squawk and glide on the gentle, sea-salted wind.
She spots a shell half-buried in the sand and squats to inspect it.
I crouch next to her. “What did you find, sweetie?”
She points to it, a beautiful grin on her face. “Shell!”
“Should we dig it up?”
She nods, the movement bunny fast.
I dig the yellow plastic shovel into the sand and unbury the small treasure.
I show her the shell. “How ’bout we put it in the sea for the mermaids and pretty fishes?”
She nods again, and I take her hand. Her skin is soft and warm, her hand small and chubby. Everything about her is beautiful and precious. Like an angel.
We walk to the water’s edge. The cool water washes over our feet and tickles our toes. Amelia giggles.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Fuckers, I miss her. Miss her so very much. Her absence hasn’t just left my chest with a gaping hole—the black hole of despair. It’s left me with an ache that will never go away. An ache that makes it hard to breathe some days.
“Jess,” Troy says, pulling me away from the beach and back to the ER. “Can you describe the room?”
“It’s a hospital room. With no windows.” My gaze shifts to the IV stand next to my bed, the bag half-full of clear fluid. “And there’s an IV machine. Do I have to keep describing the place?” It’s kind of depressing and the pounding in my head makes me want to focus on something more uplifting. Something filled with beauty, not pain.
“No, that’s fine.”
I straighten my legs on the bed. The two cops who came into the room a moment ago are no longer here. “I had a flashback, didn’t I?”
The one perk to the flashbacks is I never remember what happens in them. But maybe it would help if I could remember—then it might be easier to eventually banish them.
“Looks like it. Do you remember what happened before it started?”
I look between Kellan and Troy, attempting to get a read on the situation. The full story. A hint.
Neither man’s expression gives anything away.
Darn Marine training.
I lift my shoulders in a hell-if-I-know shrug. “Can you tell me, or are we turning this into charades? Because right now my brain isn’t on board with that. So how about we skip to you telling me what happened?”
Troy leans down and kisses my forehead. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to chase away my headache—which it doesn’t—but the action is sweet. My mouth slides into a smile, not enough to irritate my headache, but enough to let Troy know he can kiss me anytime he wants. Preferably, on the lips.
