Chapter 5 Mellie
MELLIE
Cold. I’m so damn cold.
My eyelids are heavy, and I struggle to blink them open. A split-second after the light filters in, I squeeze them shut.
Shit, that hurts.
A cacophony of beeps fills the space around me, and I try to work out where I am. It takes a few agonizing seconds, but I manage to work my eyes back open and squint against the harsh light above me.
“Ah, Miss Kensington, you’re awake.”
Ignoring the friendly voice, I glance around at my surroundings. There’s a white curtain hanging from the ceiling next to the bed I’m in, and that’s when it hits me… I’m in a hospital.
But why?
“Miss Kensington, can you hear me?” the friendly voice asks, and a woman in scrubs steps into my line of sight.
“Are you talking to me?” I ask, my voice barely above a raspy whisper.
“I am,” she confirms. “Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital, I think.”
She smiles and nods. “And can you confirm your name and date of birth for me?”
“I’m…” I frown. “My birthday is…”
The beeping speeds up, and panic grips me like a vice. The nurse presses a few buttons on one of the machines, and the noise disappears. When she returns her attention to me, there’s concern in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” she soothes, lifting my hand gently and settling her finger on the pulse point on my wrist. “Take a few deep breaths for me.” She inhales, and I follow suit.
“That’s it.” When my heart rate normalizes, she sets my hand on the mattress.
“Still having trouble with your name and date of birth?”
I close my eyes and try to come up with the information she wants, but there’s nothing. My mind is completely blank. Tears spill down my cheeks as I shake my head.
“Okay. That’s normal considering.”
“Considering what?”
“Do you have any memory of why you’re here?” she asks, and again, I shake my head. “You were in a severe car accident. You and the driver were brought in by ambulance.”
“The driver?”
“Yes,” she replies, pulling a small notepad from her scrub’s pocket and flipping it open. “His name is Hank Jenkins.”
“Hank Jenkins,” I repeat, quietly, testing the name out and praying it sparks some recognition.
My shoulders slump when it doesn’t. The nurse continues to smile, and I’m guessing she’s trying to be reassuring, but it’s not.
“Try not to worry about it too much,” she tells me.
“It’s likely that your memories will return over time.
I’ve seen it happen dozens of times over the years.
In the meantime, I’ll let the nurses upstairs know that you’re ready to be transferred out of recovery.
Once you’re in your own room, the doctor will be in to talk to you, and he’ll be able to answer any questions you might have. ”
“Thank you.”
She pulls the curtain closed, leaving me to wonder what questions I should have for the doctor. I don’t even know who the fuck I am, so how am I supposed to know what I don’t know?
It feels like an eternity before an orderly comes and wheels my bed down a long corridor to an elevator.
I try to watch the floor numbers as we ascend, but I’m groggy and struggling to keep my eyes open.
I’m vaguely aware of the ding signaling that we’ve arrived on whatever level we’re on, and then I’m floating down another hallway.
“Here we are,” he says as he turns the bed and pushes me into a room.
“Mellie!”
My eyes fly open at the sound of another man, and before I know what’s happening, hands are skimming over my head, then down to my face and over my body as if I’m being inspected for wounds.
“Fuck, Mel, I was so scared,” the man rumbles, leaning forward and resting his forehead on mine.
“Sir, if you’ll just let me get her bed situated, I’ll get outta here,” the orderly says, annoyance in his tone at having been interrupted in his duties.
The man stands, glaring at the orderly. “I can do that.”
“I’m sure you can, but it’s my job, so if you’ll please…” The orderly waves his hand as if to say get outta my way.
It takes less than a minute for my bed to be wheeled into position, and as the orderly leaves, it’s on the tip of my tongue to beg him to stay.
I shift my tired gaze to the large man standing next to the bed. He’s tapping the screen of a cell phone, probably sending a text. When I clear my throat, he shoves the device in his pocket and focuses on me.
“Jesus, baby,” he says, the words coming out on an exhale. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“One minute, I’m waiting on you and Rowdy to get to the clubhouse so I can marry you, and the next, I’m pacing a fucking hospital waiting room,” he growls. “I’m too young for you to be giving me a damn heart attack, Mel.”
Married? Rowdy? Mel?
I stare at the man, trying to make this all make sense. He clearly knows me, but all of his words mean nothing.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He lifts my hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a kiss to my palm. “You can ask me anything.”
Unsure of how this will go, I take a deep breath and wince at the pain it causes.
“Are you Hank?”