Page 25

Jennifer

I stood frozen in the garden, my heart a knot of fear and love, watching Dylan clutch his head, his face pale, almost gray. He looked ill, like the memory of our breakup had hollowed him out, and panic surged through me—not just for us, but for him.

“Dylan,” I said, bending to inspect him, my hand on his arm. “Are you okay? You don’t look right.”

He winced, his fingers digging into his temples. “Headache,” he muttered, his voice tight with pain. “It’s... bad.”

My stomach dropped. This wasn’t just emotional—this was physical, a consequence of the accident, the amnesia, the strain of reliving our worst day. I’d seen him push through pain before, but this was different, excruciating, and it terrified me. “I’m getting Bethany,” I said, texting her.

“Jen, I’m fine,” he protested, but his voice was weak, and his eyes fluttered shut, betraying him.

When no immediate message came back, I sprinted to find her.

She was in the sitting room, laughing with Steven over a glass of wine, the warmth of their mood in stark contrast to the storm in my chest. “Bethany, it’s Dylan,” I said, my voice edged with panic.

“He’s in pain—bad headache. He needs you. ”

She was on her feet in an instant, nurse mode kicking in, her grin replaced by focus. “Lead the way,” she said, and Steven followed, his jaw tight, ever the protector.

A moment later, Bethany crouched beside Dylan, her fingers gentle as she checked his pulse, her eyes scanning his face. “Dylan, scale of one to ten, how’s the pain?”

“Eight,” he ground out, his breath shallow. “Maybe nine.”

“That’s not good,” Bethany said, her tone firm but kind. “We need to get you to a hospital. Could be a post-traumatic headache, could be worse. We need imaging to rule out a brain bleed.”

Dylan’s eyes snapped open, and he straightened. “No hospital. I just need to rest.”

“Dylan,” I said, my voice breaking despite my effort to stay strong. I wasn’t whiny—I’d learned to carry my fears, to stand tall even when my world shook—but this was Dylan, my heart, and I couldn’t lose him to stubbornness. “Please.”

Bethany nodded, her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not winning this one, DeVoss. We’re going. Steven, get the car.”

Steven, silent but steady, confirmed the car was readied and he’d carry Dylan to it if he gave them any grief. The fact that Dylan didn’t protest spoke to how much pain he was in.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I asked, my voice soft, his safety more important than my ego. He’d remembered our breakup, and it was safe to say the memory had shaken him. I couldn’t add the pressure of questions to that.

Dylan met my gaze. “Stay here, Jen. I’m okay—I’ll be back before you know it.” His eyes held confusion, pain, and something else... love, yes, but clouded by the past.

I nodded, swallowing the urge to insist, to cling to him.

“Okay,” I whispered, and watched as Bethany and Steven helped him to the SUV, the driveway swallowing them as they drove away.

My chest tightened as I saw another car follow—Dylan’s parents, their faces grim with worry, joining the convoy to the hospital.

Everyone had gone, leaving me alone in the driveway.

I stood there, a surge of guilt twisting in my stomach. I should have insisted on going, I thought, fingers tracing my engagement ring. What if this was the last time I saw him? I should have apologized, explained that I wasn’t ready for him the first time, but I was ready now.

I reluctantly made my way back into the house, pacing from room to room, reassuring the staff that there was nothing I needed. Nothing, anyway, they could provide.

My phone buzzed, a text from Bethany: He’s being seen now. Everything looks good so far, just waiting on scans. Hang tight, Jen.

Relief surged through me, but it didn’t erase the fear that the memory I’d triggered might break us. Or worse, break him. The house, despite its bustling staff, felt empty, a hollow shell echoing my fears.

Alyssa. My best friend, the one who’d seen me through every heartbreak, every hope. I needed her now, her voice to steady the storm in my head. I called her, my heart racing as I waited for her to answer.

“Jen?” Alyssa’s voice came through, warm but laced with concern. “What’s wrong? It’s late.”

I sank onto a plush couch, the same one where Bethany and Steven had been laughing earlier, and let out a shaky breath.

“It’s Dylan,” I said, my voice trembling.

“He remembered our fight, Alyssa. The one where I accused him of cheating with Carla. And then he got this awful headache—said it was an eight or nine. Bethany and Steven took him to the hospital, and his parents went too. Everyone’s there, but he asked me to stay here. I’m alone, and I’m freaking out.”

“Oh, Jen,” Alyssa said, her voice softening, the familiar comfort of years of friendship wrapping around me. “First, take a deep breath. He’s with Bethany—she’s a nurse, she’s got this. And his parents are there. He’s in good hands.”

“Bethany texted. They’re waiting on test results.”

“He’s already with doctors. This is good.”

“Yeah,” I said, glancing at the message again, the words a fragile lifeline. “She said they’re waiting on scans, but no red flags yet. Still, I’m scared, Alyssa. What if it’s serious? And what if this memory—our fight—pushes him away?”

Alyssa was quiet for a moment, her silence thoughtful, not judgmental.

“Jen, you were young,” she said finally.

“We both were. You were watching your parents’ marriage implode—your dad’s affairs, your mom’s denial.

It messed with your head. You heard Carla’s lies about Dylan, saw those photos, and you panicked.

You weren’t ready for someone like him back then, someone who loved you so completely. But you’re not that person anymore.”

Her words echoed the resolve I’d been clinging to. “I know,” I said, my voice steadier. “I’ve changed. But what if he can’t forgive me? What if he sees me now and only remembers the vicious things I said?”

“Jen, listen to me,” Alyssa said, her tone firm, the same no-nonsense voice that had pulled me through countless doubts.

“Dylan’s not just remembering the fight.

He’s remembering you—the you he loved enough to give you the world.

One he built a house for, filled with mementos of your time together. That’s love. He’s not going anywhere.”

I swallowed, tears prickling my eyes. “I love him too.”

Alyssa said, “You’ve owned your mistakes—hell, you chose to stay, to fight for him. That’s what matters. He’s at the hospital now, getting checked out, and he’ll come back to you. You have to trust him, like you’re learning to trust yourself.”

Trust. The word hit me hard. “I’m trying,” I said, my voice cracking. “But I’m so scared. What if this headache is worse than Bethany thinks? What if I lose him before I can tell him I’m sorry and how much I love him?”

“You won’t lose him,” Alyssa said, her voice a lifeline.

“And Dylan wasn’t perfect. He could have talked things out with you.

The two of you met on planet Insecurity.

You threw your trauma at him. He threw his trauma at you.

It was emotional warfare that both of you engaged in.

And, in my humble best-friend opinion, you were both wrong.

So, if you’re meant to be, which I believe you are, he’ll come to you with as much regret for what happened as you feel.

If he doesn’t, he’s not the one for you. ”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that last truth yet. Right now, I just want him to live.”

Another text came in. No brain bleed, thank God. He’s exhausted, needs rest. He’s coming home, the doctors think it’s best for him to sleep in another room tonight.

“That’s probably true,” Alyssa said. “I mean, if your brain is already about to explode, it’s likely not a good time to talk things out. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor, but I believe that.”

I leaned back against the couch, the sitting room’s shadows as dark and deep as my fears. “It hurts to feel like I’m on the outside. I should be with him.”

“You’re not on the outside,” Alyssa said. “Dylan asked you to stay because he trusts you to be there when he gets back. He’s not pushing you away—the man’s brain is on the fritz. Give him the grace of patience. Tomorrow, when he feels better, you’ll figure this out together.”

Her words settled me, a balm to the remorse twisting my gut. “Together,” I repeated, my resolve hardening. “I want that, Alyssa. I want us to be whole again.”

“You weren’t whole the first time,” Alyssa said simply.

“But you’ve both had time to grow up. And to experience life without each other.

I would tell you if I thought you should leave or chase him right now.

Stand down. Learn how to sit with issues long enough to work them out.

We all want instant fixes, but that’s not life. ”

I closed my eyes and soaked in her wisdom. “You’re right,” I said, my voice firm. “I’ll make myself okay with this and we’ll talk it out when he feels better. I’ll wait for him, trust him, and believe we can do this.”

“Good,” Alyssa said, a smile in her voice. “Now, try to rest. You sound exhausted. Dylan’s safe, and you’re stronger than you know. Call me tomorrow, okay? I want to hear how he’s doing—and how you’re holding up.”

“I will,” I said, warmth breaking through my fear. “Thanks, Alyssa. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’d manage,” she said, laughing softly. “But I’m glad I’m here. Night, Jen.”

“Night,” I said, and hung up, the silence of the house less oppressive now. I wandered to a guest room, its intricately flowered patterned walls a quiet echo of the garden where I’d watched Dylan crumble.

I washed my face, took off a few layers, and slipped into the comfort of the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I prayed for only good news for Dylan. He was going to be okay. Everything would work out.

It had to.

Neither Dylan nor our wishing frog would let me down—not now that I believed in both of them.