Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
I touch strands of my light brown hair. Green…ribbon? When did I tie ribbon in my hair?
Farrow types on the skinny keyboard of the tablet. I wish I had X-ray vision to see if I’m on the right track. At least I know who I am.
Right?
Riiiight?
Okay, what if I’m not Luna Hale? What if she’s a famous pop singer, and I woke up believing I’m her. Uhhhh, that sounds like a total nightmare.
I grimace and slouch a little.
I’m starting to hate my imagination.
“When were you born?” he asks question number two.
“November thirtieth.” I include the year after Farrow asks for it, and again…he scribbles. Please do not fail this, Luna. I pick at my thumbnail and watch him type. He could just be checking off correct answers too.
“Where do you live?” he asks.
“Philly,” I answer and try lifting myself a bit more. Strength, come to me! I’ve never been great with upper-body activities, but this shouldn’t be so tough. My arms are jelly.
“You want to sit up higher?” He reaches for the remote.
“No, I’m fine,” I say quietly. I wanted to do it myself. I whack-a-mole my disappointment pretty poorly, but maybe I should just concentrate on his questions and not my body. To show I’m cognitively aware, I add more details, “I live with my parents in a gated neighborhood.”
His fingers hover over the keyboard for a split-second before he types again.
I frown. “Not Villanova. That’s where my grandparents live.”
He nods.
Okay, that was good…right? I sweat a little, but pushing aside the blankets seems too strenuous right now. I tug at the collar of my hospital gown.
“You want the heavier blanket off you?” Farrow asks. So perceptive, he’s studying each of my tiny movements.
“I’m okay.” I don’t want anyone to worry. I want to ace this test. Return to my regular abnormal life.
“You’re not hot?” he questions.
“No,” I lie.
Farrow looks straight through me. It’s unnerving, but I don’t look away.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“Wanting to be okay and needing the help to get there are two different things, and you shouldn’t be scared to need help. See, I won’t judge you. I won’t treat you like you’re fragile glass, if that’s not your thing. I’m just here to help you.”
I want to trust him. He’s Farrow, but he’s…different. I still can’t place how or why. I’m struggling to even trust my own thoughts right now.
“I’m a little hot,” I say more honestly. “But the blankets can stay.”
“You change your mind, I can help.” He raises his brows, and I nod. His gaze softens in a comforting way. He asks, “Where are you now?”
I look around. “The hospital?” I don’t know why I phrase it like a question.
“Do you know the name of the hospital?”
Drapes are closed, shutting out the light or the dark. I’m guessing I’m still in Philadelphia, which would mean… “I think Philly General.” I try to sound confident.
Farrow types. This time, he takes a bit longer. I sip more water.
“When were you admitted to this hospital?” he asks.
I set the cup down slowly, my stomach dropping. “I don’t know.” Has it been days? Weeks? Months? Years?
“How did you get here?”
“I don’t know.” Panic shoots through me. “Should I know this? Was I even conscious?”
Farrow takes a steady breath. “I can’t give you information until I see how much you remember on your own.” I wonder if he already broke a rule by telling me I hit my head.
Then again, I still can’t remember the exact details of how I hit my head. Did he mention it and I just forgot?
Farrow focuses on me. “What’s the first event you can remember after your injury?”
I think about that room. Floral wallpaper. Scuffed floorboards. Was that before or after my injury? And…and is that even real at all? It might be from an actual movie. Like Matilda? No…that’s not it.
My temples throb. “I remember you. Here in this room.”
“Can you give me more details?”
“We’ve been talking…or I’ve been asking questions, I think? Now you’re asking questions. There’s a lot of questions.” I let out a nervous laugh.
Farrow gives me a warm smile that instantly eases me inside this awful situation. Like my life isn’t imploding before my eyes.
“Can you describe the last event you can recall before the accident?” he asks.
“There was an accident?” I say. “Like a car accident?”
His face tenses. He pauses, assesses, then says, “Before your injury.”
I wrack my brain. Before my injury? What was I even doing yesterday? Or was it this morning? How long have I been in this hospital?
Shit.
Um…oh I know! I have it!!
I inch up the bed. Barely budging, but in my excitement, I gain some super strength. “We had family dinner last night,” I say into a confident nod, the words surging out of me. “Mom cooked meatloaf, and Moffy told everyone that Declan is retiring. He’s getting a new bodyguard soon, and he’s completely freaked out about it because Declan has been with him forever.”