Page 20 of Stone Coast

With that, Tyson was out the door.

Grayson approached the bed. "So, did that spark any memories for you?"

I shook my head.

"Do you remember Madison?"

I shook my head again.

Grayson frowned, then tried to offer support. "I'm sure it's just a matter of time. You should have called and let meknow you were going to have a visitor. I mean, how do you know you can trust that guy?"

"He's a cop. I can trust him. What do you think? I have serial killers in my contact list?”

He shrugged, then teased, “Maybe."

I rolled my eyes.

“Do I look like the kind of person who would associate with serial killers?”

"Maybe you are a serial killer, and you’ve been hiding it from me this entire time. You always were a little secretive."

Tyson never answered my question, but given my background, I wondered if Ihadkilled someone—for legitimate reasons, of course. I sure knew how to handle a weapon.

A nurse stepped into the room and approached the bed with a smile. I hadn't seen her before. "You Savannah?”

I nodded.

"I'm Darcy. I'm with physical therapy. I'm here to do a basic evaluation. I understand you had an extended nap.”

I nodded.

“I’ll do a comprehensive initial assessment to determine the level of muscle atrophy, joint mobility, and your functional capabilities. You've probably stiffened up quite a bit without movement, so we’ll be working on passive range of motion, then active range. Eventually, we’ll incorporate strength training and functional activities. You’ll learn how to walk again and regain your balance and coordination. Eventually,we’ll get you back to your former self. Can you tell me the level of physical activity you enjoyed before this happened?"

"She was very physically active," Grayson said. "Running, weight training, yoga.”

Darcy smiled. "Excellent. You’ve got a good foundation to start with. Hopefully, the short time that you were in dreamland hasn't compromised your muscle tone too much.”

“When can I get out of here?”

Darcy laughed.

11

Most people would have been discharged between two and four weeks. I was out in five days, to the astonishment of the entire medical staff. Apparently, my conditioning going into this thing helped me bounce back. Not to say I was 100%, but I was getting around on my own. I felt like I was able to take care of myself.

Even though I could walk, they wheeled me out to the carport, and a staff member helped me into Grayson's car. It was a new black BMW. I climbed into the leather passenger seat, pulled the door shut, and he hustled around to the driver’s side.

"I really think you should stay with me for a few days,” he said. “Everyone thinks that would be for the best."

"Everyone except me," I said, with an innately defiant spirit. "And last I checked, I have the final say."

Grayson frowned but surrendered. "You're the boss. If youchange your mind, the offer stands." He paused. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"I have to prove something to myself."

No matter who I was before, I sure as hell wasn't going to be incapacitated moving forward. I didn't know whatnormalwas at this point, but I wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible.

Grayson drove me across the island toward the Pelican Point Marina. I looked out the window, taking in the sights for the first time. Pineapple Bay was a nice place. Clear blue skies, 72°, swaying palm trees. A slice of paradise. But I felt like I was in purgatory, neither here nor there. Heaven nor hell.