Page 57 of Three Months Yesterday

I know concussions are common and don’t have to mean anything serious, but paired with being strapped to a backboard and losing consciousness, the guilt is bearing down on me.

“We’ve already sent your bloodwork down for some labs. They should be back any minute, and then we’ll get you to radiology for some imaging.”

Madison frowns. “Bloodwork?”

“It’s routine,” Dr. Winters says easily. “We just want to make sure it’s safe to take you for more tests and prescribe any medications that may be necessary.”

“They’re especially useful with a head injury that includes memory loss,” the nurse who brought me back offers.

Madison’s grip on my hand tightens and her eyes swell with worry.

“But that’s normal, right?” I rush to ask the doctor.

“Entirely.” She smiles. “I’m going to step out, but Katie will get me as soon as your results are back.”

She waits for a quiet hum from Madison before leaving the room. The nurse who brought me back offers a hesitant smile before moving to the computer by the door, her attention focused on the chart on the screen.

The room grows quiet and Madison’s eyes fall shut, a silent tear leaking out the corner. My movements are slow and gentle, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out to brush the wetness away.

I can’t stop looking at her. At the scrape near her hairline, a bruise already forming around it. She catches me staring and I squeeze her hand in mind, unable to say anything.

“Hey,” she whispers. Her attempt at a smile wavers and another tears slips free.

“Hey, yourself,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. I force myself to swallow, trying to clear the emotion trapped there.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Feels like I did.” I shuffle closer to the bed, wanting to remove as much space between us as I can. “For a second there, I thought—” I stop, my words catching. “I’m sorry, Madison. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

The crease between her eyebrows deepens, and I feel the tension in her hand, as if she wants to reach for me, but that’s one thing she doesn’t have to worry about. I’m not leaving her side.

“Beckett, no. This isn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“What?” Madison interrupts. “I would have gone on the ride regardless of if you were there or not, and there’s no way either of us could have known Meadow would spook.”

It’s reflex that has me squeezing her hand again. Her skin is cool and a little clammy, but the feel of her palm against mine anchors me.

“I’m okay,” she says softly, her thumb tracing slow circles against my knuckles. “Or I will be. I’ve just gotta do whatever the doctors tell me.”

I bend, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there as the next words leave my lips. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I scared myself.”

I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes.

It’s only been two weeks, and yet I feel like it’s been so much longer. How can it feel so natural with her when I’ve never experienced anything like this before? Then again, if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just her.

Everything since I got to Stonebridge Hollow has felt more real, more authentic. Like it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. And these people—not just Madison but the people I’ve met around town—are exactly who I’m supposed to be with.

Two weeks, and I feel more at home here than I have anywhere else since I lost my parents. I don’t know how that’s possible, but I can’t deny the truth any longer.

My eyes fall closed and I rest my forehead against Madison’s. Breathing the same air as her for a few heartbeats is enough to chase a bit more of the panic away.

“It isn’t your fault,” Madison whispers.

I squeeze my eyes shut a little tighter, as if doing so will stop the images of her fall from playing on a loop. “I keep replaying it.”