Page 20 of Come Back To Me

“Everything is normal,” said Connor, kneeling in front of me where I sat on the sofa. Vaughan stood off to the side, looking both worried and uncomfortable. Connor looked at him.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Vaughan shifted, but didn’t come closer. “I was packing away some of the equipment when I heard a scream. Found Kenzi on the floor, her hands over her ears. Think it was a panic attack.”

Connor sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and then turned his concerned gaze back to me. My oldest brother was the spitting image of our Mom, just with brown hair and green eyes.

“It’s been about a month since your accident, right?”

I gave him a stiff nod.

“Have you remembered anything? Have you been sleeping?”

“No.” I was getting tired of being asked if I could recall anything yet. It only added to my annoyance. “And I’ve been sleeping fine.”

“Have you been anxious at all? More irritable than usual?”

“I’ve been irritable,” I admitted. “But it could be hormonal.”

Talking to my brother about that was so unbelievably awkward, but I had to remember that he was in doctor mode, and I was a patient.

“Any nightmares at all?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what happened before, when you walked into the locker room?”

My memory was slightly fuzzy, despite it having only been two hours or so since Vaughan found me.

“I went to the locker room, but I don’t know why. I think I was looking for Dad, even though he was alongside the rink. I started feeling disorientated, and then there was a noise, metal being hit, and that’s when I panicked.”

The wheels turned in Connor’s head, most likely trying to diagnose me.

“I’ll need to check to make sure, but I think you’re suffering from PTSD. After a traumatic brain injury, it can take about a month, give or take a few days, for the symptoms to start showing.”

“What does that mean?”

Connor expelled a harsh breath. “It’s a delayed response to a traumatic event. You may not remember your accident, but your body does, and so does your mind. Responses can be anything from physical, like dizziness and fatigue, to cognitive, like memory problems — which we know you have — and trouble concentrating. I also want you to pay attention if you feel depressed or anxious, those are other effects of PTSD.” He stood up.

“Do I need to go for treatment?” That possibility didn’t thrill me.

“In most cases it goes away with time, but if it persists or gets worse then we may have to consider it.” Connor looked at Vaughan. “You staying?”

Vaughan looked at me.

“Just a little longer, please?”

He dipped his head, and Connor left after kissing my head. I didn’t realize I was shivering until Vaughan wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. He hesitated in front of the sofa, as if unsure of whether or not to sit down, and eventually he made up his mind. I had so many questions swirling around inside my head, like why it felt so natural for him to be here, why he was the first person I sought comfort from.

Without thought, I lay down, and rested my head in his lap. His hand hovered, and then his fingers started sifting through my hair. It was bliss.

“I don’t understand.” My voice was sleepy. The way he touched my hair was lulling me to sleep.

His chest moved, and he let out a tired breath. “I know.”

Before I could continue the conversation, my eyes started closing, and it didn’t take much longer for me to drift to sleep. If I dreamt, I wasn’t aware of it, but when I woke the following morning, I’m was tucked in bed. Alone.