At least my brain fog is clearing enough for me to notice these things, so I’ve got that going for me.
As far as what happened? My memory ends when we were walking to the elevator. I recall having some cramping. There’s no way to forget the pain that triggered everything. After that, it’s a blank. I woke up and Jace was hunched over my bed, sound asleep. My hand clutched in his.
Aweeklater.
From what Jace and Dr. Madison told me, my fallopian tube essentially exploded. After they stopped the hemorrhaging, it was literally touch and go as to whether I’d survive. They had me in a medically induced coma for almost two days. Then heavy drugs to keep me calm so I could heal.
Heavy, heavy stuff. It seems like it happened to someone else.
It’s been eight days since I woke up, and while I’m going stir-crazy, I don’t quite feel strong enough to go home. Jace and sometimes a nurse get me up for a short walk up and down the hall three times a day. I’m able to use the bathroom in my room with help, which is so much better than a bedpan, I can’t even begin to say.
All in all, considering the alternative, I can’t complain. I miss my daughter, though. Terribly.
The door to my room opens. All I see is a ginormous bouquet of orange and yellow flowers that’s so big, it barely fits through the doorway. The timing is perfect for some new blooms. Jace made sure the hundreds of bouquets I received were distributed to patients who hadn’t received their own. His idea, of course. Sometimes, I can’t get over how thoughtful he is under his cool-as-fuck demeanor.
“Who are these from?” I watch as Jace sets them down on the table.
He rips the envelope. Scrunches up his face. “The card says, ′I love you. I want to be there for you. You have to know how sad my heart is that I can’t be. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I miss you. Please heal. When you’re strong enough, we’ll talk—”
“That’s really nice of her.”
Jace sits next to me on the bed. “It would be nicer if she were here for you.”
“You’re being way too hard on her.” I grab his hand. “She knows I have you. Her husband needs herandshe’s seven months pregnant. If I’m okay with where things are at, can you please get there too somehow?”
He arches a brow. “Maybe I’m projecting a little.”
“A lot. You’re the one who told me she texted you and you never called her back after you promised to,” I remind him.
He rearranges a few stems before pulling up a chair next to my bed. “Not sorry. Not apologizing. You were my priority. Speaking of which, we’re meeting with the grief counselor any minute now. They want you to do a session before you’re released.”
“You told me. I don’t mind getting it over with. I’ll do it.” I’m truly indifferent. I’m sad, don’t get me wrong, but I’m also grateful to even be here. I wasn’t a wallower before this happened. I’m not going to start now. “I don’t think I need it, though.”
Jace doesn’t push me. He traces his finger along my wrist. “How’s it feel today?”
“Okay. It looks a little better. I adjust my gown to show Jace my scar, which is bright pink and stretches from hip bone to hip bone just under my belly button. “They took the stiches out this morning. I’m actually surprised at what a precise job they did. In a couple years, hopefully I’ll be in a bikini again.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “God, every time you show me the scar, I realize how lucky I am you’re here.”
“Dr. Madison says she’s happy with how it’s healing and warned me it will look worse for a while before it gets better.”
“Speaking of which.” My doctor enters the room holding my chart.
“Can you clear me to see Lena?” I beg. “Jace says she’s acting out. I just want to get some normality back into our lives.”
She thumbs through the pages. “My main concern is your daughter is too young to remember not to jostle you. You’re weeks away from healing enough to pick her up. I’d say three to four months away from even considering getting back on a horse. You’re starting to look better on the outside, but your insides are still very much in healing mode.”
“Is that a medical term?” Jace blinks up at her innocently.
Dr. Madison rolls her eyes. “You rockstars think you’re so charming.”
We all laugh. Jace has, in fact, charmed his way through this hospital, and everyone knows it. All to ensure that I get privacy. No one wants to disappoint the drummer of LTZ. It’s hard to believe nothing about our situation has leaked to the press. I guess they’re all still trying to figure out where Ty and Zoey are.
After we go over my four-week physical therapy plan, Dr. Madison looks at Jace. Then at me. “You two have made it through the worst part of the physical side of this. Every day should get better from here. Alex is ready to take some longer walks.” She sucks in a breath. “Look, I know you’ve said you don’t need it, but please consider getting some grief therapy. Alex, you’ve been through an incredible trauma. Now you’re leaving here unable to have children naturally. You’re a young woman. It may not hit you now, but I assure you there will be triggers. Be prepared.” She taps her clipboard with her pen. “We’ll be working on hormone therapy, but getting the correct levels may cause your moods to fluctuate. Jace, watching your partner go through this is its own trauma. You nearly suffered a catastrophic and devastating loss. I’m not going to preach— It’s up to the both of you to decide what’s right for your mental health, but at least I’ve said my piece.”
After she leaves, Jace takes my hand. “Should we schedule something?”
“Look, I’m all for therapy. I didn’t start a horse rescue because I’m against it.” I dig deep into my soul to figure out what I’m truly feeling. “If I need it someday, I’ll be the first in line. I just don’t think it’s for me. I truly feel if I can at least get home and start grooming the horses, that will be my best way to process all of this and heal.”