Page 58 of Moving Forward

It's best to walk away. No goodbye, so there’s no hope of an eventual hello. Just a clean cut, where I can forget her, and she can forget me.

“. . . you should have just stayed away! Hid for the rest of your life! You ruin everything—and now you’re ruining her. She’s already been broken . . .”

My ears are deaf to Ellie’s frantic words. My heart drowns everything out. I’m just a body. No emotions, thoughts, or feelings. Not living, just alive.

I clench my jaw and walk away. Out of the hospital. Out of Max’s life. Away from my chances of losing her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MAX

My head hurts. I’m pretty sure there might be fifty million tiny bouncy balls being flung around by Tasmanian devils in there. Not to mention there’s a searing pain just above my temple. Did I get run over by a semi?

“Cain?” Surely, we’d fallen asleep together on the boat. Or did we? Everything after our conversation is blurry, like a word that’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t seem to recall it. There’s just a brick wall of nothing.

“No honey, it’s us.”

I startle, my eyes springing open. “What?” My throat feels like sandpaper.

My mom is smiling at me, tears in her eyes. Why is she crying? More importantly, why is she on the boat with Cain and me?

Oh god. I bring my hands to my chest, feeling for fabric. Okay, I’m not topless, but why am I wearing a shirt? I look down. Not a shirt. There’s the telltale pattern of a hospital gown. Um . . .

“We’re so happy you’re awake,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “When Cain called . . . oh, honey. Thank God.”

My dad and grandpa stand behind her, equally concerned and relieved. Me, I’m just totally confused.

“What happened?” I ask. And ow, my head hurts when I talk.

“Are you experiencing memory loss?” There’s a man standing on the opposite side of my bed, obviously my doctor, in dark blue scrubs. He scratches his scraggly beard and adds, “You hit your head.”

I did?

“Yes, you did.”

I said that out loud?

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