Graduation was a nightmare due to a debilitating headache. I had to take a serious drug to get through it but managed not to stumble on stage. That was about all I remembered.
Once school was out, my days became the same. I cut back my hours at Shelfmart, unable to keep a schedule. I worked on good days, but they were becoming fewer and fewer.
But every morning, I started the day with a search for Ava Roberts.
One morning, Gram entered my room with her coffee and peered at my screen.
“You’re still looking?”
“Of course I am.”
“Tucker, it’s been three months.”
“And she turned eighteen two months ago. Why didn’t she walk out? Why didn’t she come find me? I’ve put up a million signposts all over the internet. She only has to Google my name and I’ve got a whole website telling her how to find me.”
Gram sat on my bed, the steam from her mug fogging her glasses. “I know how frustrating this must be. I wish I could help.”
The dull ache in my forehead began to pulse. I pressed my hands into my eyes.
“How are the headaches?” Gram asked.
“About the same.”
“You want me to call the neurologist again? It might be more cluster seizures.”
“Why? So they can give me meds to make me stupider and slower than I already am?”
Gram set the mug on my desk and squeezed my shoulder. “This is a hard road. And with none of the meds working for you, you need to focus on managing your pain, not staring at a bright screen.”
She was right about that. Just closing my eyes cut the ache in half. “But the screen is the only thing that might help me find her.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
My hospital time hadn’t given me any answers, so we were still flying blind. Stress made it all worse.
Nothing had gone right since Ava left. Nothing.
“Why did all this crap have to happen to me?”
Gram increased the pressure of her hands on my shoulders. “I’ve asked myself the same thing a million times. The night of the accident, I thought I’d lose everybody I loved. My son. Your mother. Your brother. You.”
“Don’t tell me I’m lucky to have survived.”
“I wouldn’t. But I sure am lucky you did.”
My computer dinged. Another hit on the word “Ava.” But it was some other woman, fifty years old. She’d won a business award.
Looking at the screen again made my head buzz. My hand began to tremble.
“That’s not good,” Gram said. “Looks like a focal seizure to me. Into bed. You’ll need to recover.”
I didn’t even argue. I fell back on my pillow, arms crossed over my face.
There was nothing left to fight for.
CHAPTER 17
Ava
