When You Let Me Fall

After I asked the question, the room fell silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Nathan froze beside my bed. His shirt was wrinkled, and dried blood stained one of his cuffs. He looked so exhausted that, for a moment, I almost failed to recognize him.

But he was still Nathan Riley—the same Nathan who had held an umbrella over me in the rain ten years earlier, who always stepped in whenever someone tried to push a drink into my hand, and who once stayed up all night because I had a fever.

His throat moved. His voice came out hoarse. "Joslyn… It's me. Nathan."

I stared at him blankly. "Who's Nathan?"

The color drained from his face.

A moment later, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway as a nurse rolled Rosie into the room. She had gauze taped to her forehead and a thick brace on her ankle, yet her face was remarkably spotless. There was not even a smudge of dirt on it.

As soon as she saw me awake, tears welled up in her eyes. "Joslyn, please don't blame Nathan. He didn't mean to let go. He just wanted to get me somewhere safe first, then come back for you."

I studied her for a long moment before asking, "Who are you?"

Her crying caught in her throat.

Nathan turned toward her with a frown. "The doctor said Joslyn may have trauma-related memory loss. Don't upset her."

Rosie's eyes grew even redder. "Upset her? Nathan, I was a victim too. I almost went over that cliff."

She had only come close to falling. I was the one who had actually gone over the cliff.

A doctor came in soon after to examine me.

"Do you remember your name?" he asked.

"Joslyn Nixon."

"And your family?"

I hesitated. "My parents are gone."

Nathan immediately looked up. "What about me?"

I turned to him. "You said your name was Nathan Riley."

The doctor glanced over his chart before explaining, "She hasn't lost all of her memory. It appears to be selective memory loss, most likely caused by severe psychological trauma. For now, the best thing her family can do is keep her calm and avoid putting too much pressure on her."

The word "family" caught Nathan's attention. Something flickered in his eyes. It was hope.

He leaned closer to me, his voice softening. "Joslyn, I'll stay with you. We'll take this slowly. Whatever I failed to give you before, I'll make up for it."

Rosie's fingers tightened around her wheelchair's armrest. A moment later, she let out a soft sob. "Nathan… My ankle hurts."

Nathan went still.

I said nothing and simply turned toward the window.

A few seconds passed before he finally told me, "Joslyn, I'm just going to take Rosie back to her room. I'll be right back."

I almost laughed.

I had heard that promise before. Once, when Rosie had a fever, he said the exact same thing—and ended up missing my birthday.