Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(32)

I look over. Flint daggers him with this weird, angry look.

“Okay. I guess I’m being silly. It’s just...from what we read, people lose their memory, short-term or long-term, but usually they still know who they are, deep down. Just not always where they are.” I look down, fidgeting with the chair.

Why am I babbling like this? It’s almost like I’m trying to make myself believe it more than Dr. Ivers, and I don’t know why.

“Precisely. And this is why doctors often suggest patients refrain from visits to Dr. Google. They just love to self-diagnose themselves into a panic, always assuming the worst. You’d be stunned at how many people come to me convinced they have a terminal condition, only to find out it’s a stomach bug or a fractured toe.”

I nod. I’ve heard of that somewhere.

“Memory issues are unpredictable, damnably hard to pin down, you understand?” Cash asks, looking me over one more time before tucking his instruments back into his bag. “Every case is a little different, but don’t let that worry you. I’ll give Flint some pointers on what he can do to help.”

“All right,” I answer. “Thanks.”

He aims a brief smile at Flint. “So, besides turtles, is there anything else you remember?”

“I wish. The turtle stuff just came flooding back while we were on the beach. It helped seeing a huge group of them lounging around nesting. Sort of like the cheesecake dessert from the shrimp truck...it’s just something I know.”

“Shrimp truck?” He looks at Flint again.

“We took a drive to the North Shore,” Flint says, scratching the back of his head. “You said not to keep her cooped up all day. So we did something that’d get her mind off of remembering. She was with me the whole time.”

Dang. If a man’s gaze could chuck a spear, that’d be exactly how Cash looks at Flint.

There’s serious tension between them.

I don’t get it.

Did Cash tell him to keep me under lock and key? I wonder if he’s afraid I’ll wander off or collapse where nobody can get to me or something. But the way he talks...it’s like I’m not in any danger, and all I need to do is sit and twiddle my thumbs until the light bulb flicks back on in my head.

But I hate thinking this angry thing between friends is due to me.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I say, straightening my shoulders.

Cash looks at me. So does Flint, who clears his throat.

Whoa.

I feel like a balloon that everybody in the room wants to squeeze the air out of.

Still. I can’t have either of them thinking badly about Flint taking me out or fighting over this.

“He was just trying to make me feel better, Doctor. I got dizzy this morning when I woke up, remembering my maiden name. It’s Gerard.”

I’m not sure what’s worse. This tension, or that name. I force myself not to shiver as another wave of icy darkness washes over me.

“Gerard? Interesting,” Cash says coldly, adjusting his collar. The man looks like he’s very interested, actually, but doesn’t want to show it. “You remembered without any prodding?”

“She did,” Flint snaps.

Hello, weirdness. I open my mouth, but the guys are too fast.

“What else do you recall, Valerie?” Cash’s eyes soften as he looks my way again. “Anything else about your family?”

“Nothing much.” I bite my lip, that weird dream with my brother on the tip of my tongue. But somehow, I get the feeling it’ll only make things worse if I drag it out in the open. “That’s not Flint’s fault either.”

“No, certainly not. I didn’t mean to imply...never mind.” Cash nods briskly, checks the instruments inside his bag one more time, then picks it up. “Good news is you checked out healthy, otherwise. The butterfly stitches are coming mildly loose, but you can just let them fall off on their own. I doubt you’ll even have a scar there when all’s said and done.”

“Great,” I say.

“I’ll be back later this week to check on you again. I think you’re doing well enough to decrease the frequency of these weekly visits,” Cash says, lifting his eyebrows.

I smile and turn. Flint keeps glaring. I’m not surprised when he follows Cash out the door.

Oh, boy.

Watching from a distance, the air sticks in my lungs, wondering what this is really all about.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I’m certain they’re arguing. I consider walking closer so I can make out their conversation, but I really don’t want to hear them bickering over me.

I don’t like confrontations, yelling, bad vibes. I feel like I’ve already seen too much of that ugliness.

Something brushes my foot. Savanny stretches next to me, he’s been near ever since we sat down to search for amnesia tips.

I shift so I can reach him across the sofa, running a hand over his silky fur, admiring his spots. It’s familiar, petting him like this. I kinda like it. Even in this crazy, mixed-up mind, there’s still the cat.

Flint remains outside talking to Cash for a while. I can see them through the window every time I look up.

It’s exasperating, knowing I’m the cause of this...whatever it is.

So I lean back and close my eyes, stroking Savanny’s back, trying to focus on the soft, rhythm of his purr. Yep, this is too familiar.