Page 43 of Should the Sky Fall

To put it mildly. Now that Dawson’s here, Cal really wants to ask about his—about their life.

“How long have we been together?”

“Six years. Married for five,” Dawson whispers.

Is that a long time? He’s not sure. “How did we meet?”

Dawson inhales slowly, his fingers curling into his palms. “At an LGBT art expo. I was there with my sister but she had to leave, and then I bumped into you.” He shrugs. “We started talking. You asked about my art and wanted me to show you pictures.”

Cal wants to ask what LGBT means, but it’s the last sentence that really catches his attention. “You’re an artist?”

Dawson's eyes are hard and empty when he looks at him. “No.”

Confused, Cal waits for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. “I upset you. I’m sorry.”

Dawson bites down on his lip and shakes his head. “Just feels strange thinking about it.”

To him probably more than Cal. It’s one thing not to remember anything and another to speak about it with someone you’ve spent years with and who should know this stuff.

Guilt crashes into him. “I hope I can remember about us one day.” He really, really does. If the way he feels about Dawson now is any indication, they must’ve been wonderful together.

Dawson's eyes slide shut. His fingers curl into his palms. “I have to go.” He stands up abruptly. “I—I’ll see you later, okay?”

He’s gone before Cal can say anything.

Chapter 9

“Haveyoubeenexperiencingheadaches?”

Cal sighs. They’ve been over this. So far, Carrie’s asking the same questions she did two days ago. Even the memory tests they just finished were the same.

“No.”

Carrie scribbles something in her notepad. She was surprised when Cal gave her the same answer the first time, somehow implying that tormenting headaches would be standard in his situation.

Cal’s head was killing him when he first woke up and information was being rained on him from all directions. But he’s been fine since.

“Dizziness, vertigo, nausea?”

“No, no, and no.” He backtracks. “Actually, a bit of a stomach ache after they gave me solid food for the first time, but I’m fine now.”

Carrie hums noncommittally, two small lines appearing between her brows.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all. It’s just uncommon not to experience any side effects when the memory is impaired.” She looks thoughtful.

“I thought my test results said there’s no damage.”

She gives him a smile that makes him feel like a child. “Scans don’t always tell us everything. There’s no physical injury to your brain, and yet…”

So basically, they don’t know anything. Great. “How am I doing with this?”

She smiles for real. “A+. You’re perfectly capable of creating and retaining new memories. Your analytic and problem-solving skills are unaffected, as is your communication.” She pauses, studying him. “How are you emotionally? Have you been experiencing mood swings, or bouts of intense emotions, like anger, fear, or sadness?”

He shakes his head no for all of them, then remembers what happened in the bathroom the other day.

“There was a moment when I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I got…angry.” The word doesn’t quite fit. He’d compare it more to an uncontrollable rage.