Page 29 of Haunted

I’m still afraid to be near him, even though he’s been very kind and understanding of my hesitancy toward him, but I’m slowly working on getting used to him. I’m curious about the other man, who Theo told me is his twin. He didn’t tell me his name, but there was heat in his eyes when I asked about him. Heat, anger, and fear. The combination had me shrinking away and regretting I asked.

Theo shifts in his chair, but his electric-blue eyes don’t leave mine.

“How are you feeling today?” he asks, keeping his tone soft.

I lick my dry lips and really think about my words before answering. After being in a coma for so long, I sometimes struggle a little trying to form words and they come out slow and stilted. “I’m… okay. My headaches ar-aren’t as bad, and my… energy is… coming back more and more.”

He nods. “That’s good. Real good. What does your physical therapist say?”

“Sh-she said she’s… surprised I’m doing so well.”

I pull in a breath, already winded from saying only a fewwords. I’m told I’m doing better than the doctors expected after being in a coma for so long. They expected my motor functions, and my ability to talk and think normally would be drastically declined, and they are to an extent, but most people in cases such as mine are worse off. Some don’t fully recover, and some only make very few improvements. Dr. Kline, the attending physician, was surprised I woke up at all, and he said with the speed of my progress so far, there’s a good chance I’ll fully recover.

“How’s walking going?” Theo inquires curiously.

I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. He watches the movement, then lifts his eyes back to me.

When I try to talk again, it comes out cracked, which causes me to cough. Theo jumps up and grabs the cup of water, and the sudden movement has me tensing. Sensing it, he freezes in place for a moment, before slowing his steps to the bed, and holds the cup out to me. I don’t want him so close to me, but I force away the urge to scoot over to the other side of the bed. This man is my husband, and although I don’t remember him, I need to try to get over my fear of him.

I swallow away the lump of fear, and tentatively reach out for the cup, then mutter, “Th-thanks.”

His smile seems genuine and crinkles the corners of his eyes. After he takes the cup back to the small tray by the bed, he resumes his seat.

His phone dings a minute later, and while he looks at the screen, I take a minute to look him over. He’s a good-looking man. I know I would have been attracted to him before my accident. His longish brown hair comes to his shoulders, and I’ve noticed over the last few days, he always pushes it behind his ears. His skin is tanned, but it looks natural, not from being outside in the sun, but from a family trait. His face is cleanly shaved with just a barely there hint of a shadow, like he shavedthis morning and the bristle is already starting to grow through. I haven’t stood beside him, but seeing him from my bed, I can tell he’s tall. My perception could be off, but I’d put him at least six foot three. Through the T-shirt, it’s plain to see he’s muscular, not so much in a bulky way, more of a swimmer’s build.

I close my eyes when an image of the other man comes to mind. It’s fuzzy from being disoriented, but I remember him clear enough to know he’s bigger than Theo, like maybe he works out or is more active.

I open my eyes to find Theo watching me again. It always makes me feel weird when he does that. I avert my gaze to the bathroom door and it reminds me of his earlier question.

“I was able to walk to the… bathroom with the… walker.”

He doesn’t say anything for several seconds, so I look back at him. He has his elbow propped up on the armrest, his chin resting against his hand, and his thumb is rubbing his bottom lip. The look in his eyes unsettles me, and I pull my knees tighter to my chest.

“Did you… call them again?” My question comes out pained and stiff.

Theo frowns and his hand falls from his chin, then he takes both hands and runs them through his hair. He seems agitated all of a sudden as he blows out an audible breath.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “They didn’t answer. I left a message… again.”

My stomach cramps, and I can’t help the pain I know reflects on my face. Tears spring to my eyes, and I try to push them back, but they come anyway, landing on the blanket covering my knees. I turn my head away and stare blankly at the wall, my chin resting on my knees.

“Jules,” he calls, but I don’t look at him. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not as sorry as I feel. The last I remember of my family, we were all happy. They’ve always been uppity, thinking thatpeople who weren’t in the same class as them, were below them, but I always ignored their beliefs. There was nothing I would have been able to say to change their minds, so I just learned to live with it, although I never felt the same way. What Theo said about them demanding I not see him doesn’t surprise me, but disowning me and not caring enough to visit me while I was in a coma… I just can’t picture them doing something so heinous. So hateful. And now that I’m awake, they still refuse to acknowledge me.

It hurts so much that they abandoned me that it feels like there’s a physical wound in my chest. Like if I were to look down, there would a huge mess of blood covering my nightgown over my heart. I miss my parents, but I miss Teresa the most. She was my best friend for years after Melanie died.

Again, I feel lost and alone.

Gathering my inner strength and courage, I wipe my eyes and bring my gaze back to Theo.

“Could I….” I look down at the phone in his lap. “Could I use that… to call them myself?”

He glances down at the phone for a moment, looking undecided. My heart plummets at him refusing my request. I could ask one of the nurses to use the phone in the room, but I don’t have my parents’ number.

When he brings his head back up, his jaw is tense, but there’s an underlying sadness in his eyes.

“I just don’t want you to be hurt if they don’t answer or refuse to talk to you.”

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