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I shake myself out of my mental spasm and pick my jaw up off the floor, wiping drool off my lip. “Yeah, I’m just… hungry.”
“We already ate,” says Jackson. “We heard you come up from the basement, so Mrs. C started bringing lunch out, but it took you a while to make it back down.” He waggles his eyebrows.
I’m determined not to blush or act embarrassed. I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. I’ll never get them to treat me like I know what I want if I’m blushing like a schoolgirl every time one of them makes a suggestive joke.
I wink and give Jackson a defiant smirk. His eyebrows hit his hairline. Win.
Bennet doesn’t look up from his stack of papers, his voice low and uninterested. “There’s plenty left for you both.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lukas and Micah have a silent conversation. I keep getting worried they’re going to be upset about the other being with me, but they seem perfectly okay with it. Lukas is smirking down at his laptop. I want to lick the smirk off his face.
I clear my throat to try and rid my brain of all of the very naughty thoughts that are running through it and pick up a plate.
Ignoring my rampant libido, I pile my plate with Hawaiian rolls and chicken salad. I also grab a few slices of tomatoes and drizzle a little balsamic dressing on them. I saw some on Bennet’s plate and it looked intriguing.
Sitting in the empty spot next to Bennet, I scoot the chair, so I don’t mess up any of his papers. Without a word, he reaches over to move them out of my way before passing me a protein shake and my little cup of pills. It sets me on edge how he can ignore me, to the point of seeming indifferent, while still taking care of my every need.
My food is delicious, and I don’t look up from my plate until it’s gone, sitting back in my chair to enjoy the chocolate shake. I think balsamic tomatoes are my new favorite food.
The silence is too much for me. “What are we working on?”
“It’s complicated,” replies Bennet.
Heat crawls up my neck, surely betraying my embarrassment. How can he be so caring and invested in my well-being, yet dismissive of me as a person?
Thankfully, Lukas chimes in, redirecting my attention. “I’ve learned something interesting that might apply to our situation.”
My heart clenches with appreciation when he refers to it as our situation instead of my situation. I stand up and move to the other side of the table, intending to look over his shoulder at whatever research he is pouring over. Lukas pulls me into his lap.
This is a much better seat. Warmer, for sure.
“I’ve been researching memory loss in relation to brain injuries and trauma. At first, I was reviewing case studies about physical injuries. But I came across an interesting article that led me down a rabbit hole focusing on psychological trauma.”
I love the way his eyes light up as he’s talking about reading medical journals and case studies. Is this particular topic especially interesting to him, or is he always like this?
“Apparently, it is not uncommon for people to have short-term memory loss after brain surgery or physical trauma. This could include things as simple as remembering how to walk or being unable to retain new information. Retrograde amnesia, which is the inability to remember past events or previously familiar information, does happen but it’s extremely uncommon. It’s significantly less common for amnesia to affect a patient’s memory of who they are.”
Confusion sets in. So what the hell is wrong with me?
Lukas continues. “Extreme psychological trauma can cause dissociative amnesia. Basically, your brain shuts down to protect you.”
I frown. “You think I’m doing this to myself?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Lukas explains, pushing up his glasses. “I’m not an expert, obviously, but everything I’m reading points to a perfect storm of trauma affecting you both physically and psychologically. On one hand, you are dealing with the physical effects of a traumatic brain injury, swelling, and then surgery. The fact you came out of your coma in less than twelve hours is impressive, medically speaking. You retained most of your mobility and were up walking in a remarkable amount of time.”
“She’s moved well past that now too,” Micah cuts in, with what sounds like pride in his voice. “After a decently strenuous workout, she walked up all the stairs, from the basement all the way to her room like it was nothing.”
Jackson snorts when Micah says, “strenuous workout”. Luis punches his shoulder. I can’t even bring myself to laugh at his antics.
“See?” Lukas remarks, ignoring Jackson. “Physically you are making phenomenal progress, which is what makes me think there could be more to it. Especially because you are clearly reliving some kind of stressful event in your nightmares.”
My lunch sits heavy in my stomach, the last half of my shake abandoned. My thoughts fly in multiple directions, overwhelming me. An hour ago, I felt so strong, but now I feel as though I’ve been knocked down a peg or two.
Lukas cups my face, wiping away a tear I hadn’t noticed. He looks at me pointedly. “Psychological trauma is nothing to scoff at. It can be as traumatic as, or worse, than physical pain. And, it often stays with you longer. Don’t feel deficient because the bulk of your issue may be psychological, the physical trauma is absolutely exacerbating it.”
“So how do I get better?” I hate how small my voice gets. Almost as small as I feel.
“I wish I knew for sure… Time, intensive therapy maybe. There are some studies that suggest reintroducing yourself to places or situations from your past could spark cognitive function, but it can be dangerous as well.”
