Pieces Of Us: Missing Pieces Series, Book Three

by Walker, N. R.

  I should have known better.

  I should have protected him and never raised my voice at her. I should have put him first instead of my temper.

  As soon as Doctor Chang walked in, as soon as I saw her familiar face etched with concern and sadness, I burst into tears.

  Chapter Eight

  Doctor Chang sat beside me and put her arm around my shoulder. “He’s had scans and blood tests,” she said. “And there’s nothing abnormal. There’s no bleed or clot, no swelling, no new shadows. No abscess or infection. There’s no change to his previous scans.”

  I wiped my face. “That’s good, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes. But . . .”

  “But what?”

  “There is reduced thickness in the right prefrontal cortex and left superior temporal gyrus, some enlarged amygdala volumes, and reduced caudate volumes.”

  “What does that mean?” I shook my head. She’d lost me after reduced thickness.

  “Extreme stress.”

  “Oh God.” I felt like I was gonna puke.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  I tried to think . . . Start at the beginning, Dallas.

  “We left your office and went out for a late breakfast. He was fine. Happy, even. He was tired; he gets tired if we go out. But he was happy. He was keen to get home. We were waiting on formal test results from the sex health clinic and he wanted to go home because the mailman would have been . . .” God, that seems like a lifetime ago. “But his mother turned up. Last time he remembers seeing her was before he moved to Darwin. She told him he was disgusting and how being gay was the worst thing he could have done to her.” I took a shaky breath. “She told both of us that when we went to see her like four years ago, but Juss doesn’t remember that. Probably just as well.”

  “So she just turned up?”

  I nodded. “She read the interview in the Times.”

  She nodded slowly. “The money.”

  I put my hand to my forehead. “She’s a horrible person. She demanded money, and I yelled at her. She yelled back at me, and I yelled some more. Then Juss yelled.” I met her eyes and shook my head. “Doc, I’ve never heard him yell. Not ever. Not in all the years I’ve known him. I mean, he’d yell at the footy but never at a person. But he yelled at her and he threw his walking cane at her, and then he just shut down. He went all floppy and I carried him upstairs. I thought he just needed to sleep, ya know? When he gets too tired, he’s wiped out, so I thought he just needed sleep. He said his head hurt. I got his pills for him. Just his normal ones, nothing different. He only took what he normally takes. He crashed out for hours, and I thought he needed it. He woke up a bit when I went to bed, mumbled a few words, that kind of thing. And I just thought he’d be okay this morning. But God, he couldn’t even speak.” Fresh tears welled in my eyes. “Christ, Doc, what did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “The yelling wasn’t ideal.”

  “I asked her to leave and she refused. I should have picked her up and tossed her on her arse.” I swallowed back more tears and anger and guilt. “I defended him. But I should have protected him. I should have made her leave.”

  “You’re not responsible for her behaviour.”

  No, but I’m responsible for mine. And I’m responsible for him.

  There was no point in saying that. We both knew it. Instead, I said, “How is he?” Then something horrifying occurred to me. “Oh God. Will he have lost his memory again?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not impossible, but it’s not likely. The hippocampus in the scans wasn’t changed.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathed. Not for me . . . but Juss wouldn’t cope with more memory loss.

  “He’ll be here overnight, at least,” she continued. “They’ve given him something to make him sleep, to get his brain activity back to normal. And something to get his blood pressure down. Doctor Anderson’s looking after him so he’s in the best care. He’ll fill you in on the details.”

  “Can I see him? I need to see him.”

  “I asked the nurse to come get you once he’s settled.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gave me a small smile. “I assumed you’d want to see him.”

  I nodded, so relieved. My breath caught and it was difficult to swallow. “I was so scared.”

  She patted my knee. “You did the right thing. Bringing him here was the right thing to do.”

  “He was like those first few days after the accident. Like a zombie. Catatonic.”

  “Stress affects everyone differently. For someone without a brain injury, like you or me, there’re many cognitive functions that allow us to cope. But for people with a brain injury, their cognitive pathways have almost certainly been disrupted and there’s an overload, like a roadblock that leads to a traffic jam. The way Justin’s brain processes and deals with stressful situations is very different now. Moving forward, we’ll have to identify the triggers and warning signs so we can eliminate risks.”

  I nodded. Believe me, this was never gonna happen again. “He’s gonna be pissed that his recovery took a hit. He was so happy that things were going good. I kept thinking we’d been so lucky . . .”

  “You still have been,” Doctor Chang said. “Even after this, he’s still luckier than a lot of others.”

  I sighed. “I know. Sorry.”

  She gave me a smile. “I better go finish my rounds. Can’t have other patients getting jealous,” she joked. “I’ll see you both again before Justin’s discharged. I’d say the nurse won’t be long. She knows you’re here.”

  “Thank you.”

  I sighed once she’d gone and thumbed out a quick message to Davo.

  Justin’s okay. He’s staying tonight at least. Haven’t seen him yet. I’ll be back at the shop when they kick me out at lunchtime.

  I checked my watch. Lunchtime was soon anyway. I just hoped they let me see him before then . . .

  And just a few minutes later, a familiar nurse, Rasida, came out to find me. “Hello, stranger. Thought we said no returns.”

  I stood up and tried to smile for her.

  “Come on through. You’ve got about forty minutes before we close the ward.”

  We began to walk down all-too-familiar corridors. “Is he asleep?”

  “Yep. He needs to be right now, so that’s a good thing. We’re monitoring him, though.”

  She stopped at a doorway and nodded to the bed inside.

  This again: the cold rooms, darkened and much too quiet.

  It would never get easier. And it would rip my heart to pieces every time.

  Justin, in a hospital bed.

  Please let him be okay.

  It was such an odd sensation. I couldn’t get my feet to work and I wanted to run to him at the same time. Needing to see him but afraid of what I might find.

  But there he was. There were no bandages this time, though he was hooked up to the IV, and he had his monitor pads on his head and down his shirt. His face wasn’t swollen and no bones were broken, but he looked so small. So fragile.

  I pulled the uncomfortable plastic chair over to the bedside and took his hand. “Hey, baby,” I whispered, fighting tears. “I’m here.”

  This was all so familiar, like a reoccurring nightmare. We’d been here before; we’d travelled this horrible road.

  Yet it was different this time.

  This wasn’t just going back to square one and starting over. This was a different game. The rules had changed, and what had become our new normal would now be different again. But I didn’t care. If we had to go back to square one every three or four months, I would.

  I held his hand in both of mine. “The doc said you need to sleep,” I whispered. “You just do what you need to do, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  The first of my tears fell, and then another and another. I held the back of his hand to my cheek and cried.

  Walking back into the workshop was strange. I’d gone through the drive-thru and
picked up some lunch for the guys, and both Davo and Sparra stopped what they were doing when I got out of my ute.

  Davo took one look at me and his face fell. “Oh fuck.”

  “They said he should be okay,” I said.

  Davo nodded at me. “But what about you? You look like hell.”

  I refused to fucking cry. I shook my head and breathed in deep. “I brought us some lunch. Sorry for dropping everything onto you guys again.”

  Sparra clapped my shoulder. “’S all good, mate. Come on, let’s eat and you can tell us how he is.”

  Well, I tried to eat something but didn’t really have the stomach for it, and there wasn’t a great deal I could tell them. Stress from his mother turning up, stress from the yelling and fighting, had basically shut his brain down. He was still asleep when I left, and Doctor Anderson, the head neurosurgeon, said his scans were okay, but we wouldn’t know how long he’d be like that until he woke up.

  “He was like a zombie this morning,” I said, pushing my mostly uneaten lunch away.

  “From stress?” Davo asked.

  I nodded. “Yep. His other doc said Juss’ brain is a bit like a roadmap and stress puts up roadblocks everywhere, and messages can’t get through. He just . . . short-circuited.”

  “So no more stress,” Sparra said with a hard nod.

  “No, no more stress.”

  “When can he come home?” Davo asked.

  “Hopefully tomorrow. We have to see how he is when he wakes up first. If he still can’t speak or hear commands, then I don’t know . . .”

  Davo’s eyes went wide. “Can’t speak?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t good.”

  He frowned. “Fucking hell.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’ve got about two and a half hours before they’ll let me back in to see him, and I need to keep busy. So tell me what needs doing, and I’ll do it.”

  Two and a half hours of working my arse off was exactly what I needed, and having another set of hands to help was exactly what Davo and Sparra needed. Between the three of us we got almost all of it done, and I felt better about leaving for the afternoon knowing I’d helped out some.

  I’d still be lost without those two guys, Davo especially. And knowing he’d be needing time away at some point with his new baby on the way made me more determined to do the right thing by him.

  I needed to do something to make the shop run more efficiently in the times I couldn’t be there. I just needed to put it away for the minute and concentrate on Juss, and once he was home and on the mend, I could start putting together a plan to make all our lives easier.

  Juss was still asleep when I got back to the hospital, though the nurse said he’d been stirring. I took my seat beside his bed and took his hand. “Hey, baby,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

  He was utterly motionless, except for the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest. After a few minutes, his fingers flinched in mine and his eyelids fluttered before he startled awake. His eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before he slowly turned his head to look at me.

  His face was without expression; his eyes held no emotion.

  He stared at me like he had when he first woke up after his accident and didn’t remember who I was.

  He stared at me like I was a stranger, all over again.

  No.

  No, no no no no.

  Please God, no.

  My heart squeezed to the point of pain, and fear sent ice through my veins.

  This wasn’t happening. Not again. He wouldn’t survive going through this again, and I wasn’t sure I would either.

  “Juss? You’re okay. You’re in the hospital,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

  He stared, then he slow blinked, his gaze blank and distant. My whole chest burned and ached, and I fought tears.

  Then something clicked in his brain, I could see it in his eyes. His gaze locked onto mine and the corner of his lip picked up. “Dallas,” he breathed.

  And the weight of relief crushed me. I sagged, put his hand to my cheek, and sobbed.

  Chapter Nine

  The doctors did their thing with Juss and I stood aside to get out of their way. He was okay, and that was all that mattered to me. He remembered me, and he spoke. He even smiled.

  He was still totally wiped and slow blinked a lot, but he was going to be okay.

  Even still, he was definitely staying in overnight and they’d be back to see how he was in the morning, and then it was just me and him again.

  I went back to my side of his bed and pulled the seat over. “Hey, you,” I murmured.

  “Hey.” He smiled, exhausted.

  “How do you feel? Can I get you anything? Water?”

  He lifted his hand as though it weighed a tonne. “You can hold my hand.”

  I was quick to take it, threading our fingers. I kissed his knuckles, his palm. “You scared me, baby. I was so worried.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

  “I know. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “So tired.”

  “You gotta stay here tonight,” I said, frowning. As much as I hated it, if the docs said he needed to be here, then he needed to be here. “I’m sure they’ll look after you just fine.”

  He slow blinked. “Stay for as long as you can.”

  That made me smile. “Baby, I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  He dozed some more, and I sat there watching the rise and fall of his chest, watching the lines on the machines and listening to all the beeps, like it was some kind of orchestra. Time dragged, but at least it gave me some time to do some research on my phone.

  I needed to get my shit together at the shop. I couldn’t do everything. I couldn’t be there all the time. And sure, the money stranglehold was lessened with the insurance approval, but if I wasn’t careful, I’d find myself right back in trouble.

  I needed to work smarter, not harder. And I had a good idea of where to start, too.

  “You’re cute when you’re thinking,” Juss whispered.

  I looked up to find him, obviously, awake. I put my phone down. “Hey. Sorry, I was just reading . . . How are you feeling?”

  “’Kay. Thirsty.”

  I held a cup of water to his lips and he took a few sips before sagging back onto the mattress. “Thanks.”

  “How’s your headache?”

  “’S okay. Wish I was at home.”

  “Me too. Tomorrow, hopefully.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m supposed to work tomorrow,” he mumbled.

  “It’s okay, Juss. I know the boss.”

  He smiled again, though his eyes closed. He lifted his hand again even though he was almost asleep. “Hold, please.”

  This time I took his hand in both of mine and held onto it until they made me leave at dinner time.

  The next morning, Juss was sitting up in the hospital bed. He was picking at food on his breakfast tray and his whole face lit up when he saw me. “Oh, hey.”

  “Good morning,” I said, putting a bag on my seat. I leaned in and gave him a kiss. “You’re looking much brighter today.”

  “Feel better. Still not great, and I reckon I’ll need to be the king of naps today, but I do feel better.”

  “The king of naps,” I repeated. “I like that.”

  He pushed his table tray away. “The food here is still bad.”

  I pulled his favourite brand of decaf iced coffee out of the bag. “Thought you might want one of these.”

  His smile turned into something sweet and gushy. “Oh my God. Dall . . .”

  I handed it over with a kiss to his cheek. “Anything for my king of naps.”

  Doctor Anderson came by mid-morning, and after going over his file and having a bit of a chat with us, he declared Justin a free man. His recovery from yesterday to today might seem remarkable, like he was almost back to normal, but the doc reassured us that wasn’t the case.

  We just had to promise to take it easy f
or a week, and absolutely no stress. Justin readily agreed, not just to get parole from hospital, but because he genuinely had no intention of getting off the couch.

  He was beat.

  This whole ordeal had knocked him on his arse and was a stark reminder that we needed to take his health seriously. Because we learned the hard and fast way that it could all go very bad, very quickly.

  We were still waiting for the final discharge papers when Doctor Chang stuck her head in. “Someone’s looking better today.” Then she looked at me. “Actually, make that two someones looking a lot better than they were yesterday.”

  “Morning,” I said with a smile.

  She walked into where Juss was sitting on the bed, dressed and ready to go home. “I have some good news for you, Justin.”

  “I never have to come back?” he asked, hopeful.

  She chuckled. “You don’t need to have your scheduled scans next week like we talked about, because you had them all yesterday.”

  “Does he still have to come in for an appointment then?” I asked.

  “Yep. You both can’t get away from me that easily,” she said with a wink. “I know we talked about moving to fortnightly appointments, but we might need to hold off on that for another week or so. We can start focusing on some coping techniques for stress.”

  “Doctor Anderson already did that,” Juss said.

  “Yep, and we’ll be going over it again,” she said brightly. He wasn’t getting out of it, obviously.

  “I know how to start,” Juss said. “Never see my mother again. That’s it. Step one and only.”

  Doctor Chang frowned, but I agreed with Juss. “She’s not welcome at our place ever again.”

  “Well,” she said. “At least we know where to start.”

  I went to Juss and rubbed his back, kissing the side of his head. “If and when you ever decide to see her again, it’ll be on your terms. Not hers, okay?”

  He nodded and looked up at me, giving me a small smile. “I’m so tired, babe.”

  I pulled him against me and held him, which was kind of awkward since he was sitting on the bed. But he didn’t mind, because he sighed and relaxed in my arms. “We’ll be home soon,” I whispered, rubbing his back.