Tony frowned. “Rebecca?” She didn’t remember him?
Oh. Oh, shit.
He rose, slammed the call button, and tried to wrestle his sudden terror into submission. The entire time he never let go of Rebecca’s hand, even when she stared at him blankly. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”
The nurse arrived with impressive speed, a pert little sparrow of a thing with keen eyes and DiPalo embroidered on the breast pocket of her scrubs. She smiled, picked up Rebecca’s chart from its slot at the foot of the bed, and moved to the bedside. “Good, you’re awake. My name is Karen. How are you feeling?”
Rebecca hesitated and glanced at Tony uncertainly. He squeezed her hand. She turned her nervous gaze to the nurse.
“I…I’m okay, I guess, but…”
Karen gave her a shrewd look and checked the IV tubes. “Do you know what day it is?”
Silence, and another blank stare. Karen paused and frowned.
“Rebecca? Do you know what day this is?”
“I…no. I can’t remember.”
“What’s your name?”
Rebecca opened her mouth, then shut it. She looked from Karen to Tony, her eyes wide and gleaming with panic.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. She closed her eyes. Her mouth trembled, her fingers tightened roughly on Tony’s, and she bit her lip. “I can’t remember anything. Or anyone. But he called me Rebecca. Is that my name? What am I doing here?”
Tony looked at the nurse. A sick feeling curdled in the pit of his stomach. Karen gave him a significant look, before smiling for Rebecca. “I’ll be right back, honey. I just need to check on something for you.”
She walked out. Reluctantly, Tony let go of Rebecca’s hand.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t be scared, okay?”
She nodded, but it still took Tony a moment to pry himself away and follow Karen from the room. In the hall, he shut the door and turned to her.
“What’s wrong with her?” He clenched his fists. “Why can’t she remember me?”
“You’ll need to calm down, sir. Getting upset isn’t helping Miss Chance.” The nurse consulted the chart in her hand. “I’m not qualified to make a full diagnosis, but she appears to be suffering from post-traumatic amnesia, likely retrograde. Let me find the attending physician. Looks like it’s…” She frowned at the chart.
“Dr. Peterson,” he filled in tightly.
“Correct, Dr. Peterson. He’ll be able to give you a better idea of what to expect.”
Her clinical attitude was about as helpful as the sight of her back as she bustled down the hall. Damn it. Tony paced outside Rebecca’s door. Had she really forgotten everything? Her angelic calling? Her mission to save him and Miranda? How could he even hope to explain any of that to her without sounding crazy?
She’d run like her ass was on fire.
Like he’d tried to do when he first met her.
Footsteps tore him from his thoughts. He turned and glared at Dr. Peterson. “What took you so long? What the hell is wrong with Rebecca?”
Dr. Peterson met his frustrated anger with steady calm. “According to the nurse, amnesia. I’ll have to examine her to confirm the diagnosis.” The man stepped closer and gently nudged Tony away from the door. “Step aside, son. We’ll do our best to take good care of her.”
Grudgingly, Tony moved, and followed close at the doctor’s heels. He tried not to hover throughout the examination, but every time Rebecca’s frightened eyes sought his, he had to fight to keep himself in place. He could only smile. Smile for her, even if he felt like screaming.
After a few minutes of fussing and careful questions, Dr. Peterson patted Rebecca’s shoulder. “Let’s get you in for an emergency MRI, so we can see what’s going on in your head.”
After they wheeled Rebecca out, Tony lingered by Miranda’s bedside, watching her sleep. He wondered what the MRI would say. So many things could take his angel away from him. Subdural hematoma. Brain swelling. Coma. He didn’t even know all the possibilities, but he didn’t like a single one.
The door opened to admit the doctor, Rebecca, and a flurry of nurses. Tony rose to his feet and searched the doctor’s face, but his eyes gave away nothing.
Once Rebecca was settled, Dr. Peterson said, “We’ll be right back, Rebecca. I just need to talk to Tony for a moment.”
“I know what that means,” Rebecca rasped. “You’re talking about me. About what’s wrong with me.”
“No, sweetheart. We’re talking about how to help you.” Tony couldn’t stop himself. He leaned down and kissed her brow, below the bandage. She looked like she needed it, and he found he couldn’t resist.
But I never wanted to be needed.
With Rebecca’s haunted eyes following him, Tony slipped out the door in the doctor’s wake.
“Retrograde amnesia,” Peterson said the moment the door closed. “She’s lost her memory of the past and her life up to the point of her injury, but she’ll be able to retain memories after that. She’s capable of cognitive reasoning and of recognizing her environment and placing events and objects in context with each other. She hasn’t forgotten how to use a fork. She’s just forgotten who she is.” He cleared his throat. “And who you are. Because you’re here, she has enough frame of reference to know you’re somehow important to her, but doesn’t know why.”
“Oh.” Numb, Tony sagged against the wall. “Is it permanent?”
“Likely not. In cases of trauma-related amnesia, permanent memory loss is rare. It generally only lasts a few hours. A few days, at most. Rebecca should be fine. Her memory will return in stages—with the most recent recovering first, even if she may never recall the events leading to her injury.”
Tony sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. It was too much. Too much to process, too much to cope with. “How can I help her? We haven’t known each other that long, but she doesn’t have anyone else. No family at all. I can’t leave her.”
Dr. Peterson frowned. “I’d say take it slow. If she feels she can’t trust you, she might retreat into herself. Trust is key to recovering from this kind of trauma. Without family, you have to provide the trust and support she needs.”
“But I barely know anything about her. How am I supposed to help her remember her life if I hardly know anything about it?”