For The Love of Easton (For the Love Of #2) - A.M. Hargrove Page 0,89
me, making coherent thought impossible. I heard lots of different sounds, but couldn’t see or speak. It was the strangest dream and it was endless, on a loop, cycling constantly.
Until one day the loop began to form a straight line. My mom was there. Her soothing voice told me I was safe. Then I heard her call someone doctor. Was I in a hospital somewhere? Why couldn’t I remember? I’d dreamed about a crash, tires screeching, metal scraping, and someone screaming. Had that been me?
But that was no dream. Memories flooded me. I’d been in an accident. A car crash. I remembered the car rolling, but then nothing. Was I okay?
I opened my eyes. Tristian was there, sitting, holding my hand. “English? English, it’s me, Tristian. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded my head up and down. Why couldn’t I speak?
He ran out of the room and returned with a nurse. Machines were everywhere and that scared me.
“Mrs. Baines, I’m Katie, your nurse. Don’t be frightened. You’ve been in an induced coma from an accident you were in but we brought you out of it. You can’t talk because you’re on a ventilator helping you breathe. We’ll get you off of that soon. Nod if you understand.”
I nodded again. I wanted to touch my face but I couldn’t move my hands. The nurse must’ve figured that out because she said, “Your hands are restrained because patients like to pull the breathing tube out. We’ll release your hands as soon as we take out your tube. Okay?”
Now I was on a nodding loop. The tube made me feel like I wanted to cough, only I couldn’t. Tristian held my hand and squeezed. “Welcome back, starshine. I missed you.”
There were a million things I wanted to ask him, but that damn tube was in the way. My head throbbed. What was up with that?
“Do you want me to tell you what happened?”
My head went up and down.
“As far as we know, you were in a car accident coming home from the riding lessons with Landry.”
Who was Landry and why was I taking riding lessons? Only I couldn’t ask him.
“Do you remember the accident?”
How could I say ‘kind of’ with my head? I shrugged instead.
“It’s fine. We can wait for all of this when you can talk. I’m just happy you’re awake.”
I nodded, this time slowly. I was getting super-sleepy. My eyes closed and I dreamed of that car wreck again.
When I woke up, Tristian was still there holding my hand. Why was he being so nice? Hadn’t he been a dick to me?
I slept on and off for most of that day and then a doctor came in to tell me they were taking that dumb tube out. My throat burned like fire after, but at least I could talk.
“Hey,” I said. My voice was gruff and sounded like a man’s.
“Hey, yourself.” Tristian sure was pretty when he smiled.
“How come you’re being so nice to me? You’re usually a dick.”
He acted surprised. “I used to be but that was a while back.”
“What do you mean?” My brows squished together. He wasn’t making sense.
“A lot happened since then. Don’t you remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Um, how about going to Vegas? Remember the Elvis chapel?”
“Nope. Want to fill me in?”
A crinkled forehead clued me in that he wasn’t certain of what to say. He cracked his knuckles and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
Only he wasn’t. My parents showed up instead.
“Hey, darling, how are you?” Mom kissed my cheek.
“Munchkin, you’re looking better every day,” Dad said.
“Thanks. What’s this about Tristian and me going to Vegas?” Might as well get right to the point.
Tristian returned with a nurse, followed by a doctor.
“Mrs. Baines, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Why did you call me Mrs. Baines? I’m English Bridges.”
“That’s what I want to discuss with you,” the doctor said. “It appears your memory is a bit foggy. That’s perfectly normal after sustaining a head injury. Can you tell me what you do and don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember getting married.” I glanced at Tristian to see him staring at the floor.
“But you remember Mr. Baines.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good. Good.”
The doctor asked me a series of questions relating to work—what I did and who I worked for, things of that nature. Then he wanted to know what year it was and who was president. He asked my birthdate and middle name and then my address. Apparently, I answered them all correctly.
“Do you remember anything at all about your accident?”