“Most likely,” she shares gently.“Amnesia caused by trauma is rarely permanent.Your brain is protecting itself.Once it feels safe again, those memories may return gradually in fragments or all at once.”
All at once sounds terrifying.Fractured pieces sounds worse.
“And until then?”I whisper.
“Until then be patient with yourself.Don’t force it.Let your instincts guide you.”
Instincts.
My gaze drifts back to Ledger.There’s a tug behind my ribs sharp, insistent like my instincts are already screaming,You know him.You trusted him once.You cared about him.
“Do I,” I hesitate, cheeks warming.“Do I have a husband?”
The doctor waits for Ledger to answer.
He doesn’t.His eyes stay locked on the floor.
“Kelly,” Dr.Salazar states gently, “relationships, responsibilities, and daily life may take a little while to come back into clarity.”She looks over my file.“Your emergency contact entered by EMS was a woman named Ally and it’s noted she’s your employer.”
I remember Ally, sort of.I know we are friends and I remember helping her open her business.But when that occurred I can’t recall.Heat creeps up my chest.I don’t know why I’m embarrassed.Maybe because I expected something.A boyfriend.A partner.Someone who would obviously rush here.
Instead, I woke up to him.A man who wasn’t listed anywhere.A man my brain erased.
The doctor continues gently, “We’d like to keep you one more night for observation.”
“One?”Ledger snaps.“That’s it?”
Dr.Salazar straightens slightly.“We will adjust if necessary.But her vitals are stable, and as long as she’s not alone at home, she should recover comfortably.”
“She won’t be alone,” Ledger replies instantly.
My breath catches.
The doctor nods slowly.“Good.She’ll need someone to help with day-to-day tasks for a couple of days driving, light chores, checking in overnight for any disorientation or trouble waking.And she should avoid stressful environments.”
Ledger’s gaze hardens.“Stress is exactly why she won’t be alone.”
The doctor gives him a cautious, assessing look before turning back to me.“I’ll check on you again this afternoon.”
When she leaves, the silence stretches thick between us.
“You don’t need to,” I start but he doesn’t let me finish.
He cuts me off.“I’m not leavin’ you alone.”
I blink.“Ledger, I don’t even know you.”
His jaw tightens like the words physically hurt.“No, you don’t remember me,” he replies.“But I know you.And I know how to take care of you.”
The room feels too small.Too warm.Too charged.
“Why do you say that?Were we close?”I ask, voice barely a whisper.“Were we,” I pause feeling absolutely stupid, “together?”
His eyes flick to mine, and something raw flashes there.
For a second just one I see heartbreak.“No,” he states firmly, voice low.
The word lands like a stone in my stomach.No?Then why does it hurt?
