Page 27 of Wreck Me

His fingers clenched air as he worked to keep his emotions from showing in this public place. He forced out an artificially steady sounding, “No.”

She rested a palm ever-so-lightly on his arm. “Well, try again if you can,” she said encouragingly. “She’s different from day to day.”

“Would it help if I brought her something from her past? Could it jog her memory?”

She nodded almost too eagerly, as if looking for a ray of hope—even a false one—to offer him. “We see that work sometimes. Just snaps them right back to their old selves for a bit. It can be like a miracle.”

Nico thanked her and headed out the door. How could he bring her something from her past? Except for the items already with her at the nursing home, her house, and everything she’d owned, had been completely cleared out.

There was one thing that might work…if he could find it. But given how much Ginny loathed him, access to the house was looking like it could take weeks or longer. All the while, his mother’s mind slipped further from reality’s grasp.

Striding toward his car, flames of anger and frustration licked at the edges of Nico’s mind. They grew hotter as they burned their way to his center. Thiscouldn’tbe it. His mother deserved one more day to be herself. He deserved a final chance to tell her how much he loved her. She had never, for one second, given up on him, even when the rest of the world hadn’t expected him to amount to anything. He would not give up on her now. He would not let his mother, a woman who’d lived her entire life in vivid color, fade to gray without a battle.

Sitting in his car, his hands strangling the steering wheel, the flames inside him reached his core and ignited. How much jail time could he really get for breaking and entering his own home? He slammed his car into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot.

Forty-five minutes later, he pulled up to the house, his resolve stronger than ever. He reached into the glove compartment and fished around until his fingers felt the large brass key, the sister to the one Ginny had shown him. Ginny would surely call the police the moment he forced his way inside, but he’d have some time before they arrived. Maybe it would beenough to give the place a decent search. It was a tiny house, after all, and he certainly knew it by heart.

But as he reached for the car door handle, he heard a whimper. Peering out the driver’s side window, he saw Annie staring back up at him, eyes wide and ears raised. Annie’s emotional range up to now had included excitement, anger, and content. This wasn't any of those. She looked…scared? He started to open the door, and Annie immediately backed up, letting him out. She ran half-sideways toward the house, then back to him, then toward the house again, whimpering all the while and never taking her eyes off him.

“What’s going on, girl?” he said as he got out of the car. The house was still, and there was no sign of Mick or Jack. “Why are you out here all alone?”

Odd. There was no way Ginny would have forgotten Annie outside.

Annie let off a couple of plaintive barks, then ran to the porch front steps and looked back at him, clearly asking him to follow her. Anxiety building, he did. Annie scratched at the front door, but still there was no sign of Ginny.

Alarmed now, Nico’s feet pounded up the handful of wooden steps, the ‘no touching the house’ rule far from his mind. He cocked his head and peered through the front door window but saw only Mick and Jack bumping each other about as they vied for the limited space before the door. He knocked loudly and waited a few beats, but there was no sight or sound from Ginny. Where was she? Beside him, Annie paced in an agitated circle as she whined and yipped.

The curtain was drawn across the window that faced into the kitchen, but there was a narrow gap between the hanging panels that he could just peek through. From this mostly obstructed viewpoint, the small room was still and appeared completely empty. He was deciding whether to head next toward thewindow in the living room or to one of the bedroom windows when he spotted something on the kitchen floor. A more careful second look sent a shiver of cold through him. Just beyond the end of the booth table, he could see Ginny’s foot and leg extended into the middle of the room. But why would she be lying unmoving on the floor? No innocent reasons came to mind.

He tapped as hard as he dared on the glass. “Ginny!” No movement from her foot. He rushed back to the front door and inserted his key. “I'm coming in!”

13

The rushing wind tugged at Ginny’s pigtails as she tore down Placard Street on her shiny yellow bike. A basket of woven white plastic hung from the handlebars, and the Little Mermaid’s bright red hair and wide smile flashed up at her from the top of the silver bicycle bell Santa had left in her stocking.

Suddenly, up ahead, she spotted them—two orange floral wingback chairs. She couldn’t believe it. They looked perfect! What were they doing in the middle of the road? She tried to pump her little legs faster, but the air became like molasses, so thick she could barely push the pedals on their cranks. Argh! The chairs were somehow further away than when she’d first spotted them. She had to get to them but…ow! Her foot hurt, and so did her throat…

Ginny’s eyelidseased open by a sliver to reveal a room in soft focus. Was she lying in a hospital bed? She tilted her head to the left and, sure enough, a doctor in a white coat gazed down at her. He looked worried. He looked nice. He looked super handsome. She resettled her head straight against the pillowand closed her eyes again. She didn’t mind giving up the dream about the bicycle and the chairs if she got to have this one about the handsome doctor treating her for…her for…whatwashe treating her for?

Her foot gave a throb of pain. She should maybe say something about it to her new doctor crush, but he probably knew about it already. She didn’t want to sound like an idiot in front of him! She searched her brain for something intelligent to say about her foot, like the fact that she had two of them and they both had bones in them, but she was pretty sure only a mumbled sort of warble exited her lips.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the doctor said softly. “You ready to wake up?”

Ginny was just conscious enough to realize that “sleepyhead” isn’t the sort of thing doctors usually say to their patients. Also, the voice was vaguely, even disturbingly, familiar. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the mist, until, like an artist gradually adding details to an initial rough sketch, the man’s face sharpened into focus.

Ginny slammed her eyelids shut as a wave of panic needled through her.Nico?Nico was her doctor? Was she even in a hospital?

She tried to sit up, but her head went woozy, and she had no choice but to flop back down. At least the room around her was clear now. She was lying on her own bed. This meant she wasn’tdreaming, but it also meant that the actual Nico wasin her bedroom.

Her mind swam with questions as she continued to take in her surroundings. Her head and feet rested on pillows, and her lavender quilt covered her middle. She had on the navy satin pajamas Monique had given her—actual pajamas rather than the threadbare tank top and grungy short shorts she usually tossedon at bedtime. Thank heavens for small mercies. Thank heavens for Monique’s hand-me-downs.

She tried to say something along the lines of ‘what the heck are you doing here’ or ‘please leave,’ but her mouth felt and tasted exactly like moldy toast. She ended up smacking her lips and tongue against each other a few times before croaking, “Water.”

Instantly, a glass appeared at her parched lips. Nico reached his hand behind her head and gently lifted her forward just enough for her to sip.

Okay. For a total jerk, he is at least a decent nurse.

“What are you doing here?” she asked when her mouth was lubricated enough to form words again.

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