Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

HUGO

Everything is fine. I’m fine. Torin is fine. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for Torin not showing up tonight.

“Hugo!”

I jump as I spin in the shower. I jump again when the curtain is nearly ripped from the pole as Noah flings it open and shoves my phone into my face. His eyes are wild. “Answer this now.”

The screen reads L.A. Central Hospital. I may vomit. Noah pulls it back and hits the green button before shoving it at me again.

Everything is not okay.

“Hello?” I ask, voice shaking.

“I’m looking for Hugo Bladen,” a woman says.

“This is he.”

“Hello, Hugo. This is Vanessa, I’m a nurse from the L.A. Central Hospital’s emergency department.” I’m going to be sick. Tears immediately sting my eyes. “You’re listed as the emergency contact for Torin Jonah.”

“I am?”

“You are. We’d really like for you to come down here. Torin has been in an accident.”

The world spins around me and I crumple to the floor. “Is he okay?”

“Please come as soon as you can, Hugo.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute. ”

“Drive safely,” she says as the call ends. I drop my phone and gasp for breath.

Noah’s on his knees, wrapping his arms around me as I try to breathe. He picks my phone up out of the water and dries it on the towel around his waist. All I can think is he’s dead. He’s dead. She wouldn’t answer me if he’s okay. He’s dead and she’s not allowed to say it over the phone. Torin—my Torin—is dead.

“What happened?” he asks, squeezing me hard as I shake violently.

“He was in an accident. But she wouldn’t tell me he’s okay.”

“Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

It takes me several attempts to get to my feet. When I try to step out of the shower, Noah pushes me back in. “Get the soap off you.”

I don’t care about the soap, though. Noah gently pushes me under the water and reaches up to work the suds from my hair. Then he pulls me out and wraps a towel around me.

Dazedly, I head for my cubby. There’s silence in the locker room now. I see their faces as they watch me though I can’t see clearly through my tears. I feel sick. Dizzy. I stumble as I try to get into my sweats.

I think maybe I’m half dressed when I head for the door. But once I’m outside, the world looks like it’s sideways and I know I can’t drive. I’d never make it.

Turning around, I come face to face with Winny. “I need a ride.”

“I know. Come on.”

Nodding, I follow him. Atty and Noah catch up. Noah hands me my phone as Atty shoves my keys and my wallet into my pocket.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Atty promises.

I nod as I climb into Winny’s truck. “Hurry. Please.”

Winny nods. “Buckle up, Hugo. I’ll get you there as soon as I can.”

Everything feels sour. The world is dark and shaking. Chills remain on my skin, making all the little hairs on my body stand on end. I feel so fucking sick. Defeated. Like someone beat the fuck out of me with a hockey stick.

I’m not sure exactly how long it takes to get there. Street lights and car lights go by in a blur. We stop and go. There’s a horn here and there.

Finally, we’re at the hospital. Winny comes with me, for which I’m thankful. Reading signs is difficult and I can’t make out which way I’m supposed to be going.

“Emergency,” I tell Winny.

He nods and adjusts our course until we’re standing in front of the reception desk. With a fucking line in front of me. I’m going to lose my shit if I have to wait here long. What if he’s…

“How can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Torin Jonah. I was called to come in. He’s been in an accident.”

The woman nods. “Have a seat. I’ll let the nurses know you’re here.”

“But they called for me to come in,” I argue.

“She knows,” Winny says as he takes my arm and pulls me away. “She can’t let you in. She needs the nurse to come get you. Take a breath. Whatever condition Torin is in, he’s going to need you to be strong. Okay?”

I look at Winny like he’s lost his mind.

He rests his head on mine. “I know it’s hard and I know how scared you are, but you need to be strong for him. That’s what he’s going to need from you.”

He’s not wrong, I know that. But how can I be strong when he might be…? I can’t think the word again. I refuse to.

“Mr. Bladen?”

I spin around and come face to face with a woman in a long white jacket over scrubs and a stethoscope hanging around her neck.

“My name is Dr. Morrison. Come with me?”

“Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” she says and my breath rushes out of me as I hurry to her side.

I pause and look back at Winny. “I’ll wait here,” he assures me. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me know if you need something.”

Nodding, I follow the doctor. “He’s alive,” I repeat, my body flooding with relief.

“He is. He’s unconscious. We’ve been running tests for the last couple hours to make sure he doesn’t have any internal bleeding or organ injuries.”

“Does he?”

She shakes her head. “No. Lots of bruises. A couple breaks.”

“What happened?”

“From what I’ve been told, a drunk driver in a big SUV crossed the line and ran into a tractor trailer truck. Torin’s car wasn’t hit head on, but he was directly behind the truck so he ran into it when it jackknifed.”

Horror rushes through me. He was probably so scared.

“He may be asleep for a while. We’re going to bring him up to a room soon, but he’s stable enough that you can stay with him.”

She pushes open a door and my heart stops. He looks so small. There are tubes and wires coming from his body connected to machines that have beeping lines all over the place. His eyes are closed. They’re bruised and swollen. There are butterfly stitches over his eyebrow and a big bruise along the side of his face.

“I’m going to warn you that there’s a chance he might suffer some memory loss.”

My breath catches.

“Could be short-term, but there’s a chance it might last a long time. He has a pretty severe concussion.”

“He’s not going to remember anything?”

“There’s no way to say for sure until he wakes up.”

I nod. “Okay.”

She rests her hand on my arm. “He’s going to live and he’s going to make a full physical recovery.”

It’s not difficult to note that she specified physical recovery. I take a breath and nod as I move further into the room. Dr. Morrison shuts the door quietly and I’m left with Torin, asleep on the bed. For a while, I just stand over him, staring at every detail that I can see.

He looks so broken and small.

I take a deep breath. When that doesn’t help to calm me down, I take several more. Then I pullover a stool and sit at the side of his bed. Gently, I take Torin’s hand in mine.

Touching him makes tears fill my eyes again. I don’t know what to do right now. So I just stare at him. I watch as he breathes, chest rising and falling rhythmically. And beg the universe to let him wake up and remember me.

I’m jolted awake when Torin’s hand moves. I sit upright and look at him. It takes me a minute to realize his eyes are open. He’s not moving at all, except for his eyes. They’re taking in his surroundings.

I hold my breath and wait for him to look at me. It’s several minutes before his eyes meet mine and we stare at each other.

Before I even have to ask, I know he doesn’t recognize me. Torin always has a smile for me whenever we look at each other. When our eyes meet—the expression I receive is just for me.

I may never see it again.

“Hi,” I whisper. “I’m Hugo.”

Torin blinks slowly but he doesn’t respond. Does he remember how to talk?

“I’m your boyfriend,” I add.

His lips part and he takes a deeper breath. Otherwise, I don’t receive a response at all. But his eyes don’t leave mine. He remains looking at me.

“Do you remember me?”

He blinks again. Two times. Three. Then he shakes his head.

I try not to break down, but I can feel my lip tremble and tears fill my eyes, partially obscuring my view of him. “That’s okay,” I whisper, voice shaking. “They said you might not remember things for a while. You hit your head.”

Torin doesn’t speak as he watches me.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you need anything?” I ask.

A minute goes by before he shakes his head. It’s subtle. Almost as if he needs to remind himself how to answer.

I reach across him and press the call button. Torin’s eyes don’t leave mine.

A nurse comes in, followed by Dr. Morrison. Torin doesn’t even glance at them. They check the machines and the tubes. The nurse changes the bag.

“Torin,” Dr. Morrison says .

It doesn’t appear that Torin hears her as he watches me. It takes her saying his name two more times before he turns his attention to her.

“Do you know your name?”

He finally has an expression and it’s amused. Dr. Morrison smiles.

“Ah. Good. You were just ignoring me for this strapping young man right here,” she teases.

Torin looks at me again and his attention remains stuck.

“How do you feel, Torin?” she asks.

He doesn’t respond, though his eyes bounce to her for a moment.

“He’s been answering yes or no questions. He… doesn’t remember me,” I tell her.

“I see. Are you in pain, Torin?” she tries again.

Torin shifts a little. His hand flexes in mine, making his eyes flicker down to where I’m holding it. His hand flexes again. He shakes his head.

“Good. Are you hungry?”

It’s a delayed response again, but it’s another no.

Dr. Morrison spends several minutes asking him questions and all he answers are the yes or no ones. She promises me it’s encouraging that he’s responding. I’m not sure I feel quite so encouraged, but I’m glad he’s present enough to have some knowledge of what we’re saying.

“What can I do to help him remember?” I ask once he’s asleep again. My tears fall freely now. It feels like I’ve lost this man before I even had a chance to have him. I can feel my lips trembling. I didn’t even get to tell him that I love him.

“We’ll begin more tests once he’s rested for a bit,” Dr. Morrison explains. “Cognitive rehabilitation therapy is something that we can talk about to help him to stimulate neural pathways, improve memory recall, and enhance cognitive processing. It’s not a short road.”

“Will he remember me?” I mean to say the words louder, but they come out in a trembling whisper.

“Maybe in time. Maybe all at once. Maybe partially,” she says gently. “We’ll have to give it some time and see. I know it’s hard, but you need to be patient. Your frustration will only add to his frustration.”

I nod.

He wakes up several times a day and every time, we go through the same series of events. It’s frustrating that we start over again. He doesn’t remember me at all. Again. Even from the time he woke up earlier. And the day before that. Every single time, I have to reintroduce myself. It’s a new knife in my chest every time.

Anger floods me. Someone is responsible for this. I hope he died. I hope he suffers a very long death. He stole someone’s fucking life. Torin may not be dead, but he’s been ripped from the life he had.

Furious tears run down my face as I bury my head into the side of his bed, pressing the top of my head into his thigh. Though I’m careful not to squeeze his hand too tightly. I don’t want to hurt him.

But I need someone else to hurt. I need them to feel this pain. They stole Torin’s life from me. They stole Torin from me. He doesn’t remember me!

I’m not sure anything has ever hurt this badly. And I’m not even the one who was in the accident. I’m not the one in a hospital bed with machines tied to me.

Dr. Morrison comes in the room while I’m struggling with my anger, staring at Torin sleep. She rests a hand on my shoulder.

“He might not remember you, but something about you is familiar,” she says.

I glance up at her. “I don’t think it is.”

“It is. His heart rate changes every time he sees you. Every time he looks at you. He may not remember, but there’s a part of him that does, even if unconsciously.”

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

She smiles sympathetically. “No, Hugo. Watch his heart rate.” She takes a minute to explain the numbers and the lines on the screen. “It’s always a little quicker when he’s looking at you or when you talk to him. ”

I try to keep that in mind as I stare at this man. My man. How do I make him want me again?

“Doctor?” I ask as she heads for the door. She turns to look at me. “Is the drunk driver dead?”

“There were no fatalities in the accident.”

I nod, turning my attention back to Torin. I’m probably really bad at hiding the fact I’m disappointed in that outcome. It’s bad to wish harm on others. I know that, I even agree with it. I’m a very loud advocate of not wanting bad things to happen to other people.

But my anger simmers just under the surface directed toward this stranger who disrupted many lives. Not just a day in their lives, but their entire fucking lives.

I’m a bad person for wishing there were more permanent consequences for his actions than just a fine and maybe some jail time. I may change my mind later, but I wish there were some karmic penalties for the asshole who thought it was a good idea to drink and drive. He should be the one to suffer. No one else.

I don’t feel bad for feeling that way.