9. Chapter 9
Jake
These last two weeks have been some of the slowest in my life.
A couple of days ago, the doctors said the swelling on Lottie’s brain appeared to have reduced, and they were able to scan for any permanent damage—thankfully, there wasn’t any. Because of this, they started the process of waking Lottie up, but forty-eight hours later, and nothing.
Wren and I have begged Lottie to wake up nearly every hour since, and there’s not been even a flutter of eyelashes nor a twitch in her fingers. This place is sending us both stir crazy. I need to get a workout in to clear my head, so I pull out my phone and open the group chat with the guys.
*Hockey Guy Chat*
Jake - Anyone free to hit the gym?
Theo - I’m free
Codey - Same here
Louis - Me too
Jake - Great, Wren will be here soon. I’ll text when I leave, and we can meet at the gym in my building?
Theo - Sounds good
Codey - I’ll be there
Louis - You got it bud
I slide my phone back into my pants pocket and grip Lottie’s hand again.
“Please, Lottie, please wake up. I miss you and need you. I need to tell you how I feel, there are so many things left unsaid.” Bringing her hand up to my lips, I softly kiss her palm–when I feel it: a whisper of movement in her fingers against my face.
Maybe I’m imagining it? I study her face intently for any signs of life, but there are none.
My racing heart calms down, and my face drops in disappointment.
Wren barrels through the door with Sawyer about half an hour later, a Starbucks in hand.
I couldn’t be more grateful–this hospital stuff is like drinking tar.
I tell her how I thought I felt Lottie’s hand move, and she grips my shoulder, watching Lottie’s face for any signs of movement. I feel it again.
“Wren! She did it again! That feeling I had—it’s back!” I almost shout I’m so excited.
“Wait, what?” She places her hand in Lottie’s free one. “Char, come on, babe. Time to wake up. You’ve slept long enough, you lazy bitch,” Wren giggles.
We’re both staring so hard at Lottie’s face, desperately trying not to blink in case we miss some important movement. There’s a flutter of eyelashes, and a lump forms in my throat. This is it–she’s coming back to us.
“Come on, you’ve got this, Lotts. We’re here waiting for you.”
“I’ll go and grab a nurse,” Sawyer says as he leaves the room. I quickly shoot the guys a text to cancel on them. I need to be here for Lottie right now.
“Char, can you hear us?” Wren’s stroking Lottie’s hair as my girl’s eyes blink open and she registers us for the first time. Lottie tries to remove the tube from her nose, eyes widening in panic as she takes in her surroundings, but I cover her hand with mine.
“Don’t move, sweetheart, the nurse will be here soon to help you, ok?” She narrows her eyes but slowly nods.
The nurse comes in, followed by Sawyer, and we’re all asked to leave the room while they check Lottie over and make her comfortable.
Forty-five minutes later—although it feels like it’s been a lifetime—the nurse comes to get us from the waiting area, explaining we’re allowed back into the room and Dr. Carter will be along shortly.
Wren rushes to Lottie first and hugs her friend gently. “Char, girl, you scared the crap out of me! Don’t ever do that again,” she blurts out, tears streaming down her face.
“Wren…” Lottie’s voice is rough and unused. Bringing a straw to her lips, Lottie slowly sips the water Wren offers her.
Wren then moves away so I can get closer to my girl. I take her hand, and the moisture that was threatening to leak from my eyes is now full on flowing. Lottie looks at me blankly, her brow furrowed. Huh?
“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, Lotts, we’ve been going out of our minds waiting for you to wake up for weeks,” My lip trembling as I speak.
I am stabbed straight through the heart when she delivers the blow I never saw coming.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
What the actual fuck? She doesn’t remember me? Wren's eyes widen as she turns to look at me. I have lost all ability to speak, struck dumb by what has just happened. Is this some kind of cruel joke? Am I on a hidden camera show?
“Babe, this is Jake. You know, your best friend?”
Lottie’s eyebrows furrow, like she’s trying to pull the information from somewhere deep in her brain. She’s just come out of a coma, maybe she needs a moment.
“Hey, it’s ok. It’s been a while, I’m sure you just need a moment to process everything. That’s all.” I don’t know who I’m trying to reassure more: me or her.
Luckily, Dr. Carter appears to check over Lottie, and we mention she doesn’t remember who I am.
He starts to ask her some simple questions.
Her full name—Charlotte Louisa Bennett. How old she is—twenty-five.
I mean, she’s twenty-six, but the doctor said she may not recall the days prior to the accident.
And then where she lives—San Diego. So how come she doesn’t know who I am? Remember me, Lottie. Please, I beg you.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Running my fingers through my hair, I take a seat in the corner while Dr. Carter continues to check over Lottie.
“Where are my parents?” She hisses as she moves in bed, jostling her ribs.
Shit. Wren and I share a look of despair over who’s going to break the news, but Dr. Carter does it for us.
“Unfortunately, Miss Bennett, you were involved in a serious car accident, and your parents sadly did not make it.” He looks at her directly, his eyes heavy and laced with sympathy.
I see the light in Lottie’s eyes go out completely before she lets out the most gut-wrenching wail I have ever heard, one I never want to hear again in my life.
I feel her pain all the way down to my marrow, and fuck is it excruciating.
Wanting to comfort her, I take a step toward her, but she flinches–fucking flinches like I’m a complete stranger to her.
This is so messed up. All I want to do is hold her, love her, but knowing she won’t want my comfort stabs at my heart further.
Wren takes Lottie in her arms and soothes her slowly.
She’s who Lottie needs right now. Not me.
Before long, the pain meds Lottie’s been given kick in, and she’s asleep again. Dr. Carter takes us outside to talk about her injuries and recovery plan, and why I have disappeared from her memory.
“Based on the head trauma she received following the accident, it’s likely she’s suffering from post-traumatic or localized dissociative amnesia.
This is where someone loses a period of time or a specific person from their memory following trauma.
Memories can come back. They can take weeks, months, maybe even years.
The key here is to take things slowly and not push.
There is also a chance she may never recover those memories. ”
The walls close in around me as I struggle to take in what the doctor is saying. The lump in my throat has me in a chokehold and I struggle to breathe, my ears start to ring and my vision blurs further.
“I-I can’t be here right now. I need some air.” I push away from the wall that’s holding me up and stagger out of the hospital, desperate to clear my head and pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.