Regan sighs.“Okay.”A pause.“Is my dad alright?”
Molly nods.“Yeah, babe. He’s doing okay. He’ll stop by to see you soon.”
“Will you tell him to have a pumpkin pie waiting for me when I get home?”
Molly hesitates again, just for a second, before nodding with a smile. It’s certainly not pumpkin season, but if Regan wants pie, I’ll fucking fly to wherever pumpkins are growing and make her one fresh. Learn exactly the way she likes it and practice it until I’ve nailed the recipe.
“Sure.”
And then the doctor steps back into the room, rattling off details about her condition and recovery. Molly and Colt move toward the corner, and as Molly’s eyes meet mine through the glass, I see it, the silent panic and the slight apology in her head shake.
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering because I knew this was a possibility I’d just hoped it wasn’t our reality. She doesn’t remember me, and the chances of her forgiving me are even lower now.
“I have to tell her,” I murmur more to myself than anyone else.
“No, you don’t.” Cash’s voice is firm, final, from somewhere behind me.
I turn, ready to square up with her older brother, my fists already tightening. I’m older. Wiser. More experienced. That’s what I want to tell him but even that doesn’t feel true. Plus, that’s not what this is about.
This isn’t about me. For once I need to stop being so goddamn selfish and think about what’s best for Regan. And fuck—if I don’t start remembering that I might lose her all over again.
“She needs to know the truth eventually. That she married me and why. You can’t just lie to her.”
“She will,” Scarlett says softly, her touch grounding me. “She just woke up. I know you want to talk to her, want her to forgive you, but give her a second.”
I nod, but my eyes are locked on the hospital room where Regan hasn’t looked my way once. Fuck, this is killing me. Then the door opens, and Colt and Molly step out. Molly hesitates before moving toward me, her expression full of regret.
“I’m sorry, Hayes. It doesn’t seem like she remembers you or anything that’s happened the past four months.”
I shake my head. “It’s not over.”
“I’ll call Declan and let him know—”
“You’re really going to have him come here?” I demand, my voice sharp. “Don’t you think that’s going to confuse her?”
“It might be good for her to see him,” Colt says, his voice steady, unreadable. “To hear from him herself that they broke up. To help jog her memories.”
“You can’t honestly believe that” I snap, my pulse hammering. “That guy wants her back. He told me as much at our fucking rehearsal dinner.”
“Maybe,” Colt allows, “but you can’t just bulldoze your way back into Regan’s life when she doesn’t even know you or remember what you two did.”
“She remembers five months ago, Colt. Not five years ago. Her memories will come back.” My gaze flicks to the group standingaround us, searching for reassurance, findingabso-fucking-lutelynothing. And what if her memories don’t come back?
Doctor Singh steps out of her room, flipping through her chart. Inside, Regan lays back against the pillows, her head turned toward the window, oblivious to what’s happening out here.
I swallow hard. “Her recent memories will come back, right?” Panic seeps into my voice despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
Doctor Singh smiles softly. She knows as much as I do that it could go either way, but I need someone to reassure me here.
“It’s very likely. She wasn’t in a deep coma, and it was medically induced to control the swelling. It’s common for patients like her to have some memory loss of their most recent experiences.”
I nod, gripping onto that like a lifeline. “See?” I turn to her family again, my voice edged with desperation. “Her memories are going to come back.”
But their faces don’t change. They just look at me with quiet, familiar pity.
Scarlett steps closer, wrapping an arm around me. “Let’s go get something to eat. You’ve been here for over a week.”
“I can’t leave her.” My voice cracks, and I feel the sting of tears pricking at my eyes.
