Kinsley fell in love with Phoenix Maverick, an NHL player for a team she never imagined supporting. But when Kinsley suffers from a head injury and forgets the last six years of her life, she struggles balancing being the person Phoenix fell in love...
Rất tiếc! Hình ảnh này không tuân theo hướng dẫn nội dung. Để tiếp tục đăng tải, vui lòng xóa hoặc tải lên một hình ảnh khác.
Late September 2016
Street lamps cast a glow into my dark bedroom, shadows of rain drops covered the wall, sliding down the window outside. I was grateful for the rain on nights I couldn't sleep, which was most.
Eerie silence at night isn't the sort of background I'd prefer to ponder to.
I pondered how strange it was to be at the age of twenty eight and have a past of expansive nothingness. No memories of the past six years. I was forever reminding myself that I was no longer in college, no longer working towards a degree in marketing and communications.
My fists bunched and pressed down on my lids, anger and resentment coursing through me again.
Sadie told me I'm qualified, I graduated. I'm good at my job. I haven't been back to work but the neurologist told me facts are what I was missing. Not skills. Whenever I'm ready, I can go back to the office, not just a cubicle, an actual office with my name on the door.
I might've known how to do my job, but I didn't remember the people I worked with or the clients I'd signed. It made the thought of returning, daunting.
Sadie told me there was a man in my life too. A new one. He'd been there the night of the injury. But in terms of what happened, the details are vague. A casualty of carelessness, a simple accident that no one could've predicted would lead to such dire consequences.
Rolling over to face the window, I watched the rain pelting the glass, the tree outside of Sadie's townhouse was blown back and forth, the pillow under my head cushioned the now healed bump. Just a bump. One that hurt, sure, but didn't seem like the sort of injury that could wipe me clean.
My mind, who I am, gone. I'd been reset, as Sadie liked to call it.
A scan revealed a severe lack of blood going to the right frontal lobe of my brain, giving me a moderate case of retrograde amnesia. Some people come back from it, some people don't. There's no known cure, so for now, I'm re learning who I am in the hopes that it'll return to me soon.
Someone asked me how I am today, at a coffee store when Sadie ordered for me. An iced long black, pump of caramel and oat milk. She said it's my favorite.
I hated it.
Anyway, the barista smiled at me, that customer service smile. The one where she's good at acting interested but my answer is irrelevant.
"Well, I haven't showered in two days. I can't eat. Sadie tells me I'm a vegan but as far as I remember, I love cheeseburgers. My hair is a mess, my mind is both keeping me locked out and locked in. I can't stop sifting, hoping to find a memory but it's all behind a closed door and not having the fucking key is sending me into a spiral."
I couldn't say any of that out loud though. You can't be that honest with people.
I am— was a barista in college. The staff never fail to have a good laugh at the over sharers after they walk out, naively relieved at venting to someone who 'wanted' to listen.
