“Year?”

“Eighty-three.”

“Do you know where you are?”

She moved around on the mattress a bit, trying to buy herself a second or two to collect all the words together and feel confident she could make the sounds with her lips. “Jersey Shore Med Center.”

“Do you know how you got here?”

She knew the answer immediately but still gave herself a moment to think. “No.”

“What is the last thing you remember before being here in the hospital?”

Gretchen leaned her head back and closed her eyes. After pushing herself for an hour to walk around, she was tired, cranky, and hungry. Her ribs ached, and her shoulder was screaming for her to relax. But she had no choice. She had to get through this evaluation.

Jax pushed off from where she was leaning against the wall and sat on the ledge in front of the window. “You already asked her this.”

“Gretchen, do you remember me asking you this?”

Gretchen looked at Jax. She had the faintest, foggiest memory, but she wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “Kind of.”

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

Gretchen closed her eyes again and searched her brain for the very last memory she had before waking up in this nightmare. Her steam was dissipating, and she surrendered to her notepad for this answer. I told Omar I moved my last appointment up because I promised Jax I’d be home for the barbecue. She handed the pad to Jax.

Jax read it aloud.

“What’s the date of this memory?”

“July Fourth,” Gretchen said.

“Did you make it home in time?”

Gretchen stared at Dr. Melendez blankly before looking at Jax. “I…No. I’m here.”

“You were thirty minutes later than you said you would be, but we still had plenty of time to eat before we went to see the fireworks.”

She remembered a little more. “Caleb’s first.”

Dr. Melendez wore a soft smile when she asked her next question. “Can you tell me about your son?”

“Caleb Michael Levine,” Gretchen said proudly. “We got his middle name from Jax’s foster father.” She took a deep breath and cleared her throat gently, careful not to agitate her ribs. “He died two years ago.”

“Six years ago,” Jax corrected.

Gretchen flared her nostrils in frustration. How could so much time just go missing from her mind? “I don’t like this,” she said with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know.” She pulled at the sheets around her. “What’s happening?”

“I know this is upsetting. We’re almost done, and I need you to focus for a little bit longer—then we’ll get you something to eat and leave you to rest. Can you do that for me, Gretchen?”

She let out a long breath and smiled weakly when Amanda took her hand. “Okay.”

“How old is Caleb?”

Gretchen reached for the notepad, waving for Jax to give it to her. She scribbled quickly and handed it back. I know he’s over four now, but I only remember him as a baby. He was almost one on the Fourth. Where is Caleb? I thought you were bringing him back with you.