Round Fourteen #2
She places her hand over mine, brushing my fingers with soft, slow, repetitive strokes.
“I think your fears are completely valid, and I also think you’re handling a horrible situation with more grace and dignity than I ever could.
You’ve been through a lot, Rose. Your entire life has been turned on its head, and today, everything shifts again.
You have every right to be terrified, but instead of kicking and screaming and wallowing in how ridiculously unfair this is—” She pushes off my bed and steps in my way, blocking my view of the door.
“—you keep looking to make sure Ollie doesn’t overhear a single thing you say. ”
Busted, warmth fills my cheeks and forms a lump in my throat.
“You’re more concerned about his feelings than you are your own.”
“I just don’t want to make things worse.” I set my juice back on the tray and swipe a hot, frustrating tear from my cheek before it rolls all the way to my jaw. “Makes us quite the pair, huh?”
Her lips curl into a sweet smile. “Like I said, the universe was looking out for you. And in the meantime, I’m glad you feel comfortable telling me the things you don’t want to say in front of Ollie. Like not having a bank account.”
“Or a job.” I inhale a shuddering, shaking breath. “And how I’m too much of a coward to become a chef, just in case I’m supposed to be a nurse.”
She snickers and hitches her leg up on the side of my bed, taking the weight off her feet.
“Getting it wrong sounds really scary, I know. But doing nothing at all would be worse, I think. Consider this a chance to reinvent yourself. Pick anything in the entire world, whatever makes your heart happy, and do that. Worst-case scenario, your memories come back and you realize you were a nurse, or a chef, or a schoolteacher, or one of a million other jobs, and then you go back to that and still have these new experiences to remember. Best case, it turns out you absolutely hated your old job. You hated it so much, you thought a walk in the snow with too few clothes and absolutely no street sense was a better idea. Now you have this new career. New skills. New experiences. Which is another way of saying you have options.”
“And my future after The Wallflower?” I rasp. “I have no ID, which means I can’t get a license. Can’t drive a car. Can’t open a bank account. If I have no bank account, I can’t rent somewhere to live. I’ll be stuck in this loop of nothingness—”
“You won’t,” she presses, squeezing my hand.
“Because the folks at The Wallflower will help you. In a little while, if your memory still hasn’t come back and nothing else changes, then you’ll go to a judge and get brand new documents.
You’ll be able to pick whatever name you like, and with those court orders, you’ll get a license.
A bank account. You could rent a place and enjoy your new life as a chef… or whatever.”
I snicker, soft and watery and pathetically quiet, and dropping my gaze, I study our joined hands. “I suppose there’s a solution for every problem if we look hard enough, right?”
“Right.” She glances right and flashes a dazzling grin, because a moment after that, Ollie stops in the doorway, carrying a paper bag and a fake smile.
“Hey.” He looks from her to me, his brows furrowing and shadowing his bright eyes. “Everything okay in here?”
“Just making sure she eats, Boss.” Janine releases my hand and straightens her spine, digging into her pocket and taking out another Starburst. “I snuck her extra chocolate milk, just like I knew you wanted me to, and the kid down the end didn’t want his fruit cup, so…
” She pops the candy on her tongue and gestures back to my tray. “Voila.”
“Good.” He wanders in warily and studies what’s left of my breakfast—most of it.
“I brought you more books.” He places the paper bag on my bedside table and takes out the novel on top.
“Nora Roberts. She writes them kissy.” Then he moves to the next and smirks.
“Alana Page. She writes them kissy, too. But hers is about fighters and the forever kind of love. The really special, fiery kind of love.” He opens the book and shows me the title page. “She signed it for you.”
“Alana wrote a book?” I snatch it with surprising speed, catching him off guard. Catching myself off guard, too. Flipping the novel over and scanning the blurb on the back, a bubble of hope expands in my belly. “This is new, too. So I probably haven’t read it yet.”
“Means you haven’t spoiled the end for yourself.” He doesn’t bother unpacking the rest. He merely folds his arms across his chest and looks me up and down. “Big day today, huh? You ready for this?”
“I’m gonna head out.” Janine pushes off my bed and makes a face behind Ollie’s back. A smile. A quirk of her brow. She makes her way to the door, but before she crosses the threshold, she glances back. “I’ll come find you before you go. I promise.”
“You’re off shift in half an hour.” I peek up at the clock on the wall. “I’m leaving after that.”
“I’m off shift when I say I’m off shift.” She presses a kiss to her hand and waves the gift my way. “I’ll be here when it’s time.”
Ollie inches closer and paws through my breakfast, tipping a fruit cup to the side to check what’s beneath, then lifting the lid on the bowl I’ve yet to touch and discovering dry cereal inside.
“You need to eat.” He sits where Janine sat, hitching his leg onto my mattress.
Tearing the side off a small carton of milk, he pours the liquid into my bowl and hands me the spoon.
“I won’t be able to check on you three meals a day after this, so I’m gonna need you to be responsible and accountable.
You were too thin when you arrived, but now I’ve finally got a bit of meat on your bones.
” He pushes my bowl another inch closer.
“I’d like to keep it that way if it’s all the same to you. ”
I tuck Alana’s book under my leg, careful not to bend the cover, and, transferring the spoon across to my right hand, I scoop cereal into my mouth and release a soft, breathy snicker. “I’m right-handed. I don’t need my memories to remember which is my dominant hand.”
“Because that’s part of your procedural memory. Stored in your—”
“Cerebellum.” I tap my temple. “I didn’t forget that, either.”
“Good.” He settles onto the mattress and watches me eat.
His blue-eyed gaze has come to feel like a warm hug over the last two weeks, since we don’t really get to exchange the real thing.
Except last night, while we watched a movie, that is.
His jaw is darker this morning, with more stubble casting a shadow on his skin.
He looks tired.
He works too hard. Too many hours. Then he takes it all home again, because he’s completely incapable of professional detachment.
“How are you feeling?”
“Good.” Fake it, Rose. Let the poor guy off the hook. I wipe my lips with the back of my hand and scoop more cereal onto my spoon. Anything to appear busy. “I slept well, and I woke feeling better about everything today.”
Hopeful, his eyes lighten. “Really?”
“Mmhm.” I slide cereal onto my tongue. “Change scares me, which is why I was the way I was last night. Ya know. Messy.”
He grins.
“But I just needed a minute to process. I like the idea of being in a group home with other people. If I rented a place on my own, I’d probably melt into my couch and become an antisocial hermit. The Wallflower will be good for me, because I can talk to the other residents and not feel so alone.”
“That’s a good point.” He picks up my chocolate milk and stabs the straw through the top, then he extends his hand and waits…
staring… until I accept and sip. “I like that you’ll be in a building with security, and that you can hang out in your room when you want to be alone, but you can venture out and find friends if that’s what you want, too. ”
“Mmhm. And I like how the residents take turns cooking and doing laundry and stuff.” I shrug and dip my spoon back into the cereal bowl. “I figure they have the right idea, preparing residents and teaching them how to do all the things they’ll need later.”
“I think so, too.” He exhales a warm breath, hunching and resting his elbow on his leg. And while I scoop cereal into my mouth, he merely watches. Considers. Worries.
“What?”
“You’re okay with this, right? You promise?”
“Yeah. Totally.” I paste on my widest, brightest, most convincing smile, even as my brain screams no, no, no!
I don’t want to go. I don’t want to walk out of this hospital and never see my new friends ever again.
I don’t want to stay at a group home and pretend everything is normal and okay.
And dammit, I don’t want to live in a world where Oliver Darling isn’t checking in on me every single day.
But that’s not his job. Worrying about me is not his responsibility.
So I maintain my smile and shovel more cereal into my mouth.
“I’m really excited about my next step, and I have loads of books to read and use as an excuse not to socialize right away.
” I lift my leg and tap Alana’s novel. “You know I like to sit back and observe at first. They provide the perfect cover so I can take my time and settle in.”
“Right.” He frowns, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. Reaching across, he presses his hand to my shoulder and gently squeezes. “I’m happy you’re excited. I needed to hear that.”
I know you did.
“I laid awake most of last night, scared you were going somewhere you didn’t wanna go.
Afraid you wouldn’t tell me how you really felt, because you felt bad or whatever.
” Finally, he flashes a bright, beautiful smile.
“But I should’ve known you’d face this new challenge with the right attitude.
You’ve been brave from the moment you got here.
Smart. Resourceful. I shouldn’t have doubted you now that we’re at the end. ”
“Right.” I exhale a quiet sigh, his words—the end—playing on repeat in the back of my mind like a broken record, cruelly intent on hurting me.
“I’ll meet new people at The Wallflower.
And learn new skills. I’ll have time to rest and, if I’m lucky, I’ll get my memories back.
” I lay my hand over his on my shoulder. “I’m excited to rediscover myself.”