“Gretchen Rebecca Mills,” she said slowly but clearly. Jax felt hopeful.

“Date of birth?”

“November twenty-third. Eighty-three.”

Jax was surprised Gretchen offered the year up so freely.

“Do you know where you are?”

Gretchen moved around a bit, her body language screaming of someone whose patience was waning. “Jersey Shore Med Center.” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “I know this…all already.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

“Stairs.”

Jax perked up. She hadn’t told Gretchen the details of her fall, and if no one else had, then she was remembering something. “What else do you remember?”

Dr. Melendez held up her hand but said nothing to Jax. “What’s the last thing you remember before being in the hospital?”

Gretchen covered her face with her hands and growled in frustration.

She stood and started to pace. Gretchen’s agitation was triggering Jax’s own anxiety. “You already asked her this.”

“Gretchen,” Dr. Melendez said evenly. “Do you remember me asking you this?”

Gretchen’s gaze was locked on hers, her eyes desperate and sad. “Yes. Every question.”

“What’s the last thing you remember before being in the hospital?”

Jax snapped. “Ask her something different, for Christ’s sake.”

“Jax, spending the night. Morning after, fight.”

Jax looked at Amanda who stared at her, clearly surprised. “That didn’t happen.”

“Her answer is incorrect?”

“Correct,” Jax said, embarrassment warming her cheeks as she imagined, for a split second, what Gretchen could be remembering.

“When was this?”

Gretchen looked panicked as she pressed her fingertips into her temples. “Not sure.”

“What do you remember before your injury?”

“Caleb’s first Fourth of July.”

“How is that possible?” Jax said. “Dr. Melendez, how is that possible?”

“It’s like her amnesia is spotty, like most of her memories are missing, but some still remain. And others aren’t real. It’s an unusual case. One I’ve never seen.”

“They are real,” Gretchen said.

Amanda sat down beside Gretchen and held her hand. “Can we keep going with your questions and worry about the rest later? She’s tired and doesn’t need this stress.”

“Of course.” Dr. Melendez finished writing a note and cleared her throat. “Tell me about your son.”

“Caleb,” Gretchen said with a huff, “Michael Levine. Named after Jax’s foster father.”

Jax looked at the linoleum. What she wouldn’t give to have Michael in her life today to help her through this. He would know what to do—he always did.

“How old is Caleb?”

“Four.” Gretchen picked up her pen again and started writing.

“I need you to speak as much as you can, Gretchen.”

She held up the paper and looked at Jax. “Read it. Out loud.”

“A jumping bean wouldn’t help the evaluation. Caleb is with Meredith.” Jax almost stuttered on the last sentence. “How did you know that?”

“How did you know about Meredith, Gretchen?” Amanda said.