Tracking Logan Foster

{19} Hold on Till May

I made it routine to visit Lo- Nick, I mentally corrected myself, almost every other day. His memory hadn't improved in the least bit and as far as he knew, he was just getting to know me for the first time. Only I knew better.

Each day was relatively the same. I'd show up, sit in the chair across the hospital bed from him, and entertain him with stories of the college experience until a nurse would come in to tell me the visiting hours were over.

I'd get up, wonder how much longer he'd be in recovery until he'd be cleared to go home, and leave with a promise to return soon.

Nick would shoot me a playful smile that practically stopped my heart each time.

Except, when I stood up to make my departure this time, I was hampered by the strong grasp on my wrist.

Turning my head, I caught Nick as his eyebrows narrowed on me and he bit his lip, deciding if he should speak his mind.

I worried, "What is it?"

Releasing my hand, he switched his attention to his wrists that were covered in fleshy, yet faded, scars. I held my breath until his darkened eyes made their way back to mine.

"Have I met you before?"

I froze. I knew my widened eyes would give me away, and I hurriedly rushed on. "Oh, no. Just that first day at my job shadow," I assuredly lied.

Distantly rubbing the scars with his thumbs, Nick continued to stare in scrutiny at me as I watched the gears mentally spinning in his head, unable to connect with each other to fully function.

As if he forgot about my presence, his eyes dropped to his lap, and he mumbled under his breath, "Was I suicidal?"

Then he glanced up at me for an answer I couldn't supply him with. I shrugged apologetically and tried to force a smile that was more of a wince.

"Those are old scars...by the looks of them. Maybe you tried one time, but never again?" I ended in a question, knowing I was wrong.

He nodded once and folded his arms behind his head, masking the scars from our sight.

"You know..." he trailed off, uneasily darting his eyes around the cramped room. "I've had a few dreams about you," he admitted, cheeks staining a shade of pink at his confession.

I felt a warmness spread through my chest and felt my own face redden. I opened my mouth to prod more about the dreams when the nurse returned a second time, saying, "Visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow."

I waved to the nurse and she left. Nick's dirty blonde hair flopped in one of his eyes and he impatiently brushed it off his forehead.

"Do me a favor," he requested, drawing my attention. "Ask how much longer I'm stuck in this place."

"Okay," I promised, making my way to the door.

"Sir, visiting hours are over-"

The poor nurse was cut off when a man shoved his way into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when his electric blue eyes flashed to mine.