make things worse if I drag it out in the open. “That’s not Flint’s fault either.”
“No, certainly not. I didn’t mean to imply...never mind.” Cash nods briskly, checks the instruments inside his bag one more time, then picks it up. “Good news is you checked out healthy, otherwise. The butterfly stitches are coming mildly loose, but you can just let them fall off on their own. I doubt you’ll even have a scar there when all’s said and done.”
“Great,” I say.
“I’ll be back later this week to check on you again. I think you’re doing well enough to decrease the frequency of these weekly visits,” Cash says, lifting his eyebrows.
I smile and turn. Flint keeps glaring. I’m not surprised when he follows Cash out the door.
Oh, boy.
Watching from a distance, the air sticks in my lungs, wondering what this is really all about.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I’m certain they’re arguing. I consider walking closer so I can make out their conversation, but I really don’t want to hear them bickering over me.
I don’t like confrontations, yelling, bad vibes. I feel like I’ve already seen too much of that ugliness.
Something brushes my foot. Savanny stretches next to me, he’s been near ever since we sat down to search for amnesia tips.
I shift so I can reach him across the sofa, running a hand over his silky fur, admiring his spots. It’s familiar, petting him like this. I kinda like it. Even in this crazy, mixed-up mind, there’s still the cat.
Flint remains outside talking to Cash for a while. I can see them through the window every time I look up.
It’s exasperating, knowing I’m the cause of this...whatever it is.
So I lean back and close my eyes, stroking Savanny’s back, trying to focus on the soft, rhythm of his purr. Yep, this is too familiar.
Sitting alone, irritated, frustrated. Quietly venting in gentle scritch-scratch motions across this beast’s back.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” I talk to him softly.
Savanny looks up, slurring his purr into a low grunting sound as he sniffs my fingers. It’s like he’s agreeing.
He’s always been my confidant. My friend, a big furry rock whenever I need grounding.
I don’t know how I’m sure, but I am.
The tag he’d been wearing, the gold pendant, flashes in my mind. I see it hanging in front of me, swinging, catching the sunlight, nearly blinding.
It hurts.
Flashbacks aren’t supposed to be freaking literal.
I’m not even sure what Flint did with Savanny’s collar, but I don’t want to see it again.
“Val?”
My eyes snap open at the booming cadence of Flint’s voice.
The nausea dissipates, leaving guilt in its wake. “I’m sorry.”
He frowns. “For what?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. That’s as bad as lying, and I know you’d never do that to me.” I let my hand fall to the sofa. “You and Cash were arguing over me.”
“You’re right, we had words.” He sits down next to me, this roughness in his expression.
“Why, though? What’s wrong?” I lay a hand on his shoulder, turning to granite under my fingers.
“Just wanted him to take you to the damn hospital, but he insists there’s nothing they can do for you there. That and...fuck, I don’t know. I wish I could get you checked out by somebody who isn’t such a raging smart-ass sometimes.”
“But you know I’m okay. Everything we looked up agrees with Cash.”
“You can’t believe everything online.” He adds a disapproving grunt at the end.
My skin pricks. I get the funny sense there’s more he’s not saying.
Surely, my husband wouldn’t lie to me...would he?
“Well, this time, it’s true, and I’d much rather be here than a hospital. I don’t like them. The noises, the loneliness, ugh, the food. That’s why you brought Cash in, isn’t it? Some weird thing I have with hospitals?”
He looks at me, confused.
Annoyed, I push off the couch, stretching on the tips of my toes. “It’s all just infuriating. Not remembering or knowing what to do about it.”
“Val, stop.” He grabs my hand. “You’re getting riled.”
I give in to his tug and plop back down on the couch. A small part of me enjoys how he anchors me.
“Why shouldn’t I be? You have no idea how awful this is, Flint. That’s the only thing wrong with me. These gaps in my mind, driving me crazy.”
“You’re right, I don’t know,” he growls. “But you’ve remembered plenty, and I’m sure there’s more on the way, all in good time.”
I huff out a breath. “Good time. That’s one phrase I’ve heard twice today, and