Page 17 of Dear Future Husband (The Dearly Written #1)

Trey

Two security guards stood between me and my girl. One short, and pudgy while the other was tall and skinny… How much more cliché could you get?

“I don’t understand why you all are being so difficult! I have sat in that room almost every day for the last year. I should be with her when she wakes up,” I announced, frustrated, at the floor of hospital staff, security guards and gathering onlookers who came to gape at the drama unfolding.

When I got the call from my mom saying Maybelle was waking up at around three in the morning, I leapt from my bed and rushed out the door to my Jeep.

I managed to throw a black tee on but was out front, crawling into my car in only my boxers with my gym shorts in hand.

It wasn’t until I was stopped at a red light that I finally slipped the shorts on over my hips.

My Maybelle Mason was waking up.

The short, fatty officer approached me. I was itching to wipe the floor with the man, but before anything could really happen, my mom was a force between us both.

Chelsea Turner glared daggers at me, but I couldn’t care. I had to get to my girl.

“Honey, I need you to calm down and take a seat,” Mom said sternly.

“If she’s awake, I need to be in there.”

Mom nodded. “I called you because I know how much you care about her, but I also thought you could hold on to a thread of your common sense through this process. There are some things you need to know before you can see her. Doctor Brown is with her right now. He will be out here in a few minutes to update us on everything,” she explained.

I sighed and dropped myself into a waiting chair along the wall, only a few feet from where Maybelle’s room was.

The two security guards finally stalked away when they decided I was no longer a “threat” …assholes.

Mom joined me in the seat next to mine.

“Did you talk to her?” I asked, uncertainty marring my tone. I was nervous, scared for why they wouldn’t let me just see her. Mom slowly nodded, staring blankly at the floor. I knew what I wanted, or needed, to ask, but I dreaded what the answer could be.

“Was—was she—could she…?”

Fortunately for me, my mom quickly caught on to what I was trying to choke out.

“She is fully aware and functioning really well.”

I let out a deep breath that I’d been holding onto, relief flooding the pressure away in my chest. Mom put a comforting hand on my back. “Didn’t you need to get back to school today for football training? You have a long drive ahead of you.”

I shook my head. “I talked to Coach. He was understanding of the situation. He said I could have the rest of the week off.”

Mom smiled. “Oh good, good.”

Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait too much longer until Doctor Nathaniel Brown was exiting Maybelle’s room, approaching my mom and me.

“Heard you were causing quite a scene out here, Mr. Turner.”

I ignored the comment. “Can I see her now?”

He chuckled and sat in another chair next to me along the wall. “As soon as I am done explaining a few things, you are welcome to see her.”

My leg started to bounce. “Alright, let’s hear it then.”

He leaned in toward me with his elbows propped on his knees. “Miss Belle seems to be doing very well. She is a little confused and annoyed with the brain fog, but she is listening and communicating adeptly.”

“So, what is wrong with her?” I pushed. Not that anything could be wrong with my Maybelle. With how Doctor Brown was leading this discussion with vague good news and how my mom continued to stare at the floor, I could tell there was something wrong.

He adjusted before he said, “She is suffering from a type of Dissociative Amnesia. She is struggling to remember anything to do with her identity, her family and what happened the night of the accident.”

That pressure in my chest was tight again, almost painful. “Is it permanent?” I dared to ask.

Doctor Brown shrugged. “Not usually, but it’s too early to tell.” He paused, peering over my shoulder at Maybelle’s door, then returned to me. “When you walk in there, Mr. Turner, she will not know who you are.”

My head bobbed up and down as I focused on a bulletin board across the hall.

Maybelle was awake. She didn’t know who I was, but she was awake. In my shorts pocket, I could feel the imprint of a small journal that had been my constant companion, never leaving my person over the last year.

It would all be okay. It had to be okay.

“Okay, Doc. That all? I’d really like to see my girl now.”

Doctor Brown snorted loudly, shaking his head. “Follow me, Romeo.”