Page 31 of You Again

Stella sniffs, like she might tear up. “Thank you, Rose. That means a lot coming from you.”

She says it like she knows me.

And I guess, in another life, she did.

Fifteen

FOUR DAYS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

The orthopedic surgeon whose name I’ve already forgotten stands, arms crossed, at the foot of my bed. In some ways, with his arms in that tight fold, he’s reminding me of Coach.

My head feels fuzzy—which I suppose makes sense. I’ve been in and out of it for four days.

“The second surgery was complicated,” he says with a long sigh. “Success is yet to be determined.”

I narrow my gaze, thinking about what he said. I peer around, looking at my Mom, Dad, and Callum. Thinking about who isn’t in this room.

“His career—” Cal says.

Dr. What’s-His-Name looks at Callum, his expression too serious for my liking. “I can’t say yet. The soonest he’d be back would be six months from now. But it’s hard to tell at this stage.”

Callum looks at me, and when everyone gives space for me to speak, I do. “Where’s Rosalie?” I’ll worry about my leg and my career later. I’ve always bounced back quicker than trainers and doctors think. I’m not worried about that. I need to know where Rosalie is.

“Uh—” Callum looks at Mom, who looks at Dad.

“Is she okay?” I attempt to sit up straighter in this bed, but while they’ve informed me that I’m on pain medication, I’m not sure I believe them. I throb with the small movement throughout my entire body, but especially my leg. Oh, do I feel it. I groan, stifle in a breath, and return my gaze to Callum. “Where is she?”

“She isn’t hurt, sweetheart,” my mother says, but there’s a tremor in her voice. She reaches out a hand, covering my own, attempting to comfort me. But no one has told me why I need comforting.

“Where is she?” I ask again.

Dr. What’s-His-Name clears his throat. “I’ll be back later tonight. I’m sure you’ll have a list of questions for me then.”

I hear him, but I don’t look at him, nor do I watch the man escape the room.

“Give me a minute with Cal.” I may be nearing thirty, but my sweet mother will never stop trying to coddle me. I need the person who’s going to give it to me straight.

“Sure, okay, son,” Dad says. “Come on, Mallory. I’ll buy you lunch in the cafeteria.”

“You’re sure, sweetheart?” Mom’s forehead wrinkles—it may never ease out. She’s going to be permanently worried. “You just woke up and⁠—”

“I’m sure. Bring me back a brownie.”

Mom smiles at the task I’ve given her. It’s something she can accomplish. She can’t fix my leg, she can’t get me out of this bed any quicker, but she can bring me back something to eat.

The door hasn’t yet closed behind my parents when I clench my jaw and steer my eyes back to Callum. “Tell me, Cal.”

He sits in the chair beside my bed, scooting it as close as he can, until the arm of the chair hits my bed’s handrail. He runs a hand over his five o’clock shadow—something he rarely has, but I’m guessing he hasn’t left the hospital in four days. “Physically, she’s fine. Your mom was right there. But she isn’t okay either.”

I shake my head, my heart thumping. “I don’t understand.”

“She doesn’t remember us.” He gulps in a bout of air. “Retrograde amnesia—something like that. She’s lost six years—the team, Stella, Maggie…” He swallows. “You. We’re all lost to her.”

“Wait.” I push myself up a little, again feeling it in my splinted tibia. “Amnesia?”

“Yes.”

“She doesn’t remember me? But—she loves me.” She just agreed to marry me. It’s like a knife in the heart, killing me slowly, painfully, torturously.