Page 13 of In Every Chapter

What positive? the dark whispers hissed.

After the initial concerns of brain damage or hemorrhaging, the scans were clear. But she still hadn’t woken up. Till now.

“She’s alive, Lord,” I whispered, my voice husky with the strain of emotion as I braced a fist against the wall, eyes sliding shut. “Thank you for that.” My heart stuttered in my chest. Life without Paisley wasn’t something I wanted to consider. Not after it had taken us so long to get here.

Doctor Thornton said retrograde amnesia was often a side effect after significant head trauma. Paisley had been lucky she hadn’t broken her neck or anything worse than bruises, a few scrapes, and a dislocated shoulder. No, not luck, Jesus. You were holding on to her. I swallowed hard. Please touch her mind. We’ve overcome so much together. Don’t let her go back. Please.

I replayed our conversation, her confused words rolling over me. Each one a fresh gut punch. She didn’t remember me, beyond my position as something of a prodigal son of the family. I wasn’t the black sheep or anything. But Paisley had been right in her assessment about my never being home—only I hadn’t been a hero.

As the middle child in a family of ultra-accomplished siblings (seriously: police detective, fire chief, surgeon, professional hockey player, and sports lawyer), the urge to prove myself was strong. And being a hero seemed like the way to go. Until I didn’t climb the ranks as quickly as I hoped, and then Liam’s death . . . I wasn’t hero material. No matter what they said. My best friend was dead, and it was all my fault.

Then there was Paisley . . . and I couldn’t save her either.

Clicking heels caught my attention, yanking me from the downward spiral of my thoughts, before a blonde blur barreled into my arms.

“How is she?” Juliet whispered into my shoulder.

I patted her back, a little surprised since my baby sister wasn’t a hugger. Guess nearly losing your best friend changed things. It changed me. “Alive. She woke up for a few minutes, but the doc gave her something for the pain. She’s asleep again.”

Juliet sagged with a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Jesus.”

I hated to burst her bubble, but it had to be done. “Jules . . . there’s something else.”

Those baby blues that could get me to do anything flashed up at me. Perks and curses of Juliet being the only Satterfield sister and the youngest to boot. “What?”

“Paisley . . . ” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to loosen the tight muscles. “She’s lost her memory. Or at least part of it.”

My sister was no swooning woman, and the calculations swirled in her eyes. “How much?”

“Seven years.”

All colour drained from Juliet’s face, and I gripped her elbow as she swayed slightly. She glanced at the closed door behind me. “Seven years, but that means . . .”

“She doesn’t remember me,” I said quietly. “At least not that we’re married. But she asked for you by name. Said she didn’t remember exactly how she knew you, just that she did.”

Juliet’s shoulders sagged. In relief or pity, I wasn’t sure. Probably both. Time to add the final bombshell. “She thinks she’s still married to Jared.”

Murder filled her eyes. “No,” she spat, stamping her foot. “There’s no way. After all the work she went through healing, she thinks she’s still married to that monster?” Angry tears spilled over her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know this isn’t about me, and I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling right now. I’m just so . . . ugh, I’m never this emotional.”

“Yeah,” was all I could say before pulling her back for a hug, more for her than for me this time. As the youngest siblings of the Satterfield brood, plus my twin brother, Cal, the three of us had always been close. I was glad she was here. But she was right; she was never this teary. In fact, I wasn’t sure I had ever seen my sister cry—not since she was little anyway.

Man, I really wish you were here, Cal. I was older by seven minutes, and as the youngest brothers, we’d always been best friends. We’d joked about twin telepathy all our lives with a fifty-fifty chance of success. But I knew he couldn’t make it to the hospital, not yet anyway. Mama had told him what happened, and he had texted me. He’d already left last night for today’s away game in the AHL’s Calder Cup playoffs with the Caldwell Chargers and wasn’t due home till the middle of next week.

I suppressed a shudder at the harsh aroma of antiseptic and cleaner filling the hallway. I hated hospitals, especially after my stint in one leading to my medical discharge from the Marines after a failed mission. I’d been lucky to be alive then.

And you think you’re worth more than Liam was?

Those dark thoughts needed to take a jump from a plane without a parachute. Before the accident yesterday, the plaguing nightmares had been better. The bleak, condemning voices less insistent. But this . . . This had every self-reproach using me as a punching bag.

“Can I see her?” Juliet asked, easing away and pulling me from my thoughts.

I nodded and opened the door for her. “It’ll help having a familiar face.” Because she was afraid of me. I’d seen the panic in her dark green eyes, the blankness. I’d spent the last five and a half years getting Paisley comfortable with my touch. Now it was gone.

Juliet squeezed my arm in wordless sympathy, and she slipped into the dimly lit room.

I ran a hand over my jaw, the rough cut of my longer-than-usual beard growth grounding me before I ducked back into my wife’s hospital room.

Juliet and I kept silent vigil. My family, Pastor John, and two of Paisley’s out-of-town best friends, Liz and Stephanie, had been taking turns sitting with me. Watching. Waiting. Praying.