Jax looked around sadly. “You don’t remember, do you?”

She took a deep, calming breath and released it shakily. She tried not to cry when Jax pulled her hand back. “Not…” Gretchen growled in frustration. Words were easy, and she hated how hard it was to just spit them out. She pressed her lips together to sound out a B. “B-baby?”

Jax rubbed her face and stood. She walked to the window. Darkness surrounded the hospital, but there was no indication of the time. “Caleb is four.” Jax’s tone was hard and cold, and she sounded like a stranger.

Gretchen clamped her eyes shut and shook her head gently. The boy in her mind, wild and loud with eyes like honey. Was that her son? She took another deep breath. Her mind was scrambled, playing like a static-filled television. Her eyes pinched together as she fought through the fog to remember something, anything that told her to believe she had a child who was four years old. All she had was one split second of him screaming.

“He wants to have a bowling party for his birthday, and just last week you and I were fighting about him going to kindergarten.” Jax turned back to face Gretchen, but she didn’t look at her. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. Gretchen didn’t recognize the fuchsia sweatshirt Jax was wearing. “His preschool teacher recommended keeping him back because he has a hard time concentrating. I was willing to hear her out, but you cried. You insisted he was just energetic, and that there’s nothing wrong with that. He needs to adapt. We shouldn’t cater to the whims of the school.”

How could she not remember any of this? Caleb was old enough to be in school and was having difficulty learning, but she had zero recollection. She touched her hand to her face and winced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jax said, rushing to the bed to pull Gretchen’s hand away from her wounds. “The stitches are out, but it’s still pretty fresh.” Jax dropped Gretchen’s hand and stepped back. She shuffled about awkwardly before standing against the far wall. She shoved her hands into her pockets. “They don’t expect any crazy scarring or anything.”

Gretchen didn’t care about her face nearly as much as she cared about Jax and her odd behavior—acting hot and cold, seemingly concerned one moment and then distant the next. She thought about what it must be like for Jax. Gretchen couldn’t imagine what she would do if Jax was hurt badly, never mind nearly losing her. Jax was Gretchen’s everything.

She beckoned for Jax to come close again, exhausting the last of her energy as she patted the bed beside her. Jax looked scared as she approached.

Jax sat carefully and stared at a spot beside Gretchen’s head. “Did you know Caleb’s four?” she said. Jax’s shoulder’s slumped when Gretchen shook her head. “I have to get Dr. Melendez.”

“W-wait,” Gretchen said, pain radiating through her throat. She gripped Jax’s thigh and felt rejected when Jax jumped slightly. The next word came out no louder than a breath of air. “Stay.” Gretchen closed her eyes once Jax covered her hand with hers.