Page 16 of Midnight and Mine

“And you rescued me?”

Words don’t seem to be enough, so I take the tips of her fingers in mine and play with them. It’s something I always do when we’re talking something through, whether it be colors to paint the nursery or deciding on a movie.

“Yeah.”

“So, I owe you my life?”

My voice cracks as my emotions get the best of me. “No, I owe you mine.”

Chapter Seven

Wynter

Scott and I have a deep connection—I can feel it. We must be the best of friends, which only makes me sadder that I can’t remember him. There’s something so familiar about his hands on my neck. And as I watch him holding back tears, my gut twists as he seems upset. But when he laughed, it was like pop rocks going off inside me—pure happiness.

We don’t get to finish our conversation because my parents peek their heads around the corner. “Mom, Dad.”

They let out a sigh of relief. “You remember us,” my mom questions.

“Of course. I could never forget the most important people in my life.” My parents gently hug me, but as my chin rests on my dad’s shoulder, I see Scott pinching his nose, then rubbing his hand over his jaw.

“Pumpkin, we’ve been so worried. How are you feeling?”

“Confused. In pain. Worried. How am I going to take care of a baby when I can’t remember the events of my life? I don’t remember getting pregnant or going to the doctor and seeing the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I don’t even know if I’m having a girl or boy.”

Scott chimes in, “Girl. You’re having a baby girl, and she’s already beautiful like her mama.” My head swivels back in his direction. “Drake couldn’t make your ultrasound appointment. Jessica was out of town, so I went with you.” He dips his head when I stare at him too long. “I’ll leave you with your parents. Anyone need anything?”

Dad says to Scott, “No, but why don’t you go home and get some sleep? You’ve been awake since yesterday morning.”

“Sleep is overrated. Wynter, do you want anything?”

“No… but Scott, thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

His jaw quivers slightly. “Getting your memories back is all I want. I … I’ll be back.”

As he leaves, my parents’ eyes follow him. “He’s a good man,” my dad states with a hint of concern, lacing his voice.

My parents sit beside me, waiting. “It’s cold. Do you want me to find more blankets?”

“I’m fine, Mom. Don’t make a fuss over me.”

My mother squeezes my hand softly. "Wynter, my job is and will always be to keep you safe. I’m sorry I wasn’t home when you called." Her voice is weak and trembling, so I attempt a reassuring smile, feeling comforted by their presence.

“I’m okay, I think,” I manage to say, my voice strained and dry.

My father paces around the room, concern etched in every line of his face, and I realize that although the memories are just beyond my reach, the bond between usis evident.

I want to ease their worries, to promise them that I’ll remember everything eventually. "I'm sorry," I say, meeting their anxious gazes, "I remember you, but most of it is still... foggy." They exchange a glance, their silent communication both comforting and distant, and I hope they can feel how much I want to understand, to reconnect with the life I’ve lived and the people I’ve loved.

The nurse sneaks in like a thief in the night, changing my IV bag and cleaning my stitches. “Push the call button if you need me. You should rest,” she cautions.

“Rest, sweetheart,” Mom agrees as she runs her fingers lightly through my hair, over and over. It’s soothing, and a calm presence spreads through my body. Why do I remember my parents’ names and what they looked like and Drake but no one else?

“Mom, will you keep doing it until I go to sleep?”

She bends to kiss my forehead. “Of course. You always wanted me to rub your back or hair when you were upset, but don’t worry. It’s only a matter of time until you remember the wonderful love you have for… for all of us.”

A heavy sigh escapes through my dry, cracked lips, and my chest deflates. I close my eyes, and I have a memory of a man’s hands rubbing my feet. His face is just beyond my mind’s grasp, but I guess it’s Drake or maybe my dad. My brain tries to recapture the memory, but it slips away.

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