Page 2 of Unbreakable Thread

Max stumbles to stand, reaching for a cup.

A man in scrubs stands on the opposite side of the bed. “Hello, I’m Doctor Wallace. Can you tell me your name?”

I nod. “R…Rainey Collins.” Rainey Collins? Is that even my name anymore?

“Good. How are you feeling, honey?”

Max takes the straw and slips it between my lips. The cool water slides down my throat.

“My head feels like a war zone.”

Doctor Wallace jots the information on his notepad. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

I take a couple more sips and nod. Those memories flood me with my adoptive father’s betrayal, and Max had to fight to save me. To get me back. Then one of Daniel’s men pushed me. How much does the doctor know? “I fell back and hit my head. That’s as far as I can remember,” I say instead and peer at Max, who nods at me.

“Okay, I’m going to get you medicine for your headaches, and I’ll have the nurse hand it to you and recheck your vitals.” Dr. Wallace walks off, leaving Max and me alone.

I fiddle with the sheets, my free hand clammy against the fabric. The other arm sits heavy in its cast. I keep my gaze on both of them, anywhere but him.

“Rainey.” His thumb brushes under my chin, turning me to face him. “Why are you avoiding me?” His voice cracks, and his shoulders slump.

“I’m not,” I whisper.

“Do you not remember me? Is that why? Am I making you nervous…uncomfortable?”

I reach for his hand under my chin and kiss it. “I remember you, Max.” I shake my head. “I never want to forget you. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“As you are mine.” Max moves the oxygen tubes and other electrical cords aside, then sits his muscular frame on the bed. “Are you mad at me? God, I’m so sorry for getting you involved in all this.” He squeezes my hand. “I almost lost you, baby.”

A sharp groan comes from me, trying to shift my body to peer up at his bright eyes. “Max,” I groan again, trying to shift and comfort the man beside me.

“Rainey, careful, don’t move. Should I get the doctor?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m probably just sore.”

“You have a broken arm and stitches on your head. You have been in and out of a coma for two weeks. Your body has been healing.” He reaches for the water. “You have been through so much. Take it easy, okay?” He hands it to me.

I take another sip.

“I was trying to move to look you in the eyes,” I tell him, my hand going to my head, feeling where the stitches are.

Max shuffles onto his side with one hand on my face and the other elbow propped on the pillow, elevating himself upward. Now I can see his beautiful face. “Is this okay? I need to be close to you.”

My breath catches painfully as I inhale his scent. It’s calm, just as I always remember. “It’s not your fault, Max. I heard what my father did. He’s the one to blame, not you. If anything, you saved me.” You always save me. Maybe it’s time I saved you, I want to say. Instead, I stare at those familiar eyes. “I’m not mad at you.”

“No?”

“No, handsome. I love you too much. You’re my special person. You’ll always have my heart…” My voice breaks with each word. I swallow, and a tear runs down my cheek. “I always thought you were a cheater at checkers and chess. I guess you were just that good. Your bed always felt more comfortable than mine.”

His brows rise, like he’s confused about what I’m rambling about. The memory surfaces the way they all did—suddenly, with the force of something that had been waiting.

“Your heart always raced when I’d lay my head on your chest. Although we were kids. It was innocent. I loved it. You made me feel safe.” Max’s heart beats faster than normal, just like it always does when I’m next to him. “You gave me a butterfly ring.” Max goes still. “You bought it from those machines. You were upset the action figure you wanted didn’t pop out, so you gave me the ring.” I smile at the memory. “I wore it all the time. I used to pretend in my head that it was a wedding ring. I wore it on the day of the accident. I don’t know why, Max, but I kept that ring. I didn’t know where it came from. But I kept it.”

Max’s eyes widen with a tear threatening to fall before it does. He turns and wipes it. “I never told you…about the ring.” He wipes my tears. “You remember?” he breathes. It sounds like a breath he’s been wanting to release for years.

“My head is like a battlefield. I’ve been getting flashbacks of the past. Memories of my childhood.” I grip the back of my head as it throbs. “They keep coming, flooding me with the past. I remember everything. My childhood. My parents. You. Us.” My parents. The tightness in my chest escalates. A fresh, painful wound stabs deep into it. How do you mourn people you didn’t know you’d lost? My body knew. My heart knew. Before my mind has finished unraveling it to me, the tears are already running. Fourteen years of grief that had nowhere to go. Landing now. All of it. Lying in the arms of the same person who held me years ago.

I remember the dual ache in my heart at the thought of never seeing my Mamá again. The news that she was gone. The memory surfaces without warning. One minute, I’m in a hospital bed. The next, I’m eleven years old in my grandmother’s kitchen.