Page 97 of Brain Damage

I shake my head at the phone. “You must be mistaken. Maybe it’s… it’s a different Clark Douglas.”

“I doubt that,” Regina snorts. “Clark Douglas—crazy good-looking with those ridiculously blue eyes.”

No. That’s not possible. If Clark had been married before, he would have had to disclose that on our marriage license. I remember there was a box to fill that in. Except…

Clark took care of the marriage license. I just filled in my part and he filled out the rest. At the time, I was so grateful he was willing to take care of this chore and flattered by his eagerness. It’s only now that I realize he might have been hiding something from me.

“He was horrible to me,” she goes on. “It felt like he made it his mission to make me miserable. He cheated constantly, especially with this one woman…”

“Haley,” I breathe.

“That’s right!” she says. “God, it was awful. And I never would have had the courage to leave him if not for you. But when I told him, he was furious at you. He kept ranting about how Dr. McKenna wrecked his life by curing me.”

“But… I don’t understand.” I try to push away a wave of dizziness. This is too much to wrap my injured brain around. “Then who is Kyle Barry?”

“Kyle Barry?” she repeats. “I never heard that name before in my life. It’s certainly not my ex-husband. I never changed my name after getting married—it made Clark angry but I held firm on that one.”

I think back to all my interactions with Kyle Barry. Did I ever hear his name from a third party? He was the one who introduced himself and told me he was Regina’s husband.

But when the detective came by, he called him Kyle Barry. He told me Kyle Barry was the one who shot me.

Didn’t he?

Except now I’m not sure. He showed me a photo, but now that I think of it, I don’t remember him saying a name. He just told me the man had been a former criminal. And then after I saw that photo, everything got so fuzzy.

The throbbing in my head is making it hard to focus. None of this makes any sense. The only reason I gave Clark a chance for a second date was that Kyle Barry was threatening me, and Clark heroically stepped in and…

Oh.

Oh God.

The throbbing pain in my temple has become so severe, I’m afraid my brain may explode. Especially since I don’t have a skull anymore to hold everything in place.

“Dr. McKenna?” Regina Barry’s voice suddenly sounds very far away. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I manage. “But… I have to go.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’m fine. Thank you for calling.”

Before Regina can get out another word, I lower the phone back down onto the receiver. My breaths are coming fast and hard. I need some Tylenol now. No, I need something stronger than Tylenol. Where’s that nurse call button?

The door to my room cracks open, filtering in a tiny bit of light. I breathe a sigh of relief—the nurse is here to give me my pain medication. I’m going to have some nice oxycodone in a little cup of applesauce. Maybe my brain won’t explode after all.

Except when I see the silhouette framed in the doorway, I realize it isn’t my nurse at all.

It’s Clark.

70

For a moment, I feel a sense of fear so overwhelming, I can hardly breathe. All I can think about is Regina’s words: Clark and I were married for five years. He was… awful. Clark steps into the room, shutting the door behind him. His blue eyes suddenly seem almost black.

“Clark,” I manage, over my fear and the persistent throbbing in my temple. “What are you doing here? Visiting hours are almost over.”

Clark comes closer to me. I feel like I barely recognize him. Those beautiful blue eyes, the chiseled features, the chestnut hair—they all seem like the features of a complete stranger. And really, that’s what he is if he’s been lying to me since the day he met me about who he really is. He walks right up to my bedside, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“No more screwing around, Charlotte.” He holds up a few papers in his hand. “I’m sick of the games. These are the power of attorney forms. I want you to sign them for me. Now.”