Page 10 of Absolution

"You're healed nicely, and physical therapy is working well. I don't see why we can't release you to rehab by the end of the week." He glances at me while scribbling in my chart.

I sit up, happy for the news. "Sounds damn good to me."

"Hold on, we have one more thing, Creed." He rounds the end of the bed, coming closer to me. My gut knots, alerting me I'm not going to be happy for much longer. "I think you need to consider visiting a therapist of a different kind."

"Don't patronize me, I might have a trauma injury, but I understand you're talking about a head doctor." I glare at him. The pounding in my temples ramps up, sending shooting pain through my head.

"Answer me this, Creed." His hand slides around his neck. "Can you tell me what high school you attended?"

I stare at him, my mind closing in and roaring down rails similar to a tunnel. So dark, I can't see through the black veil or around the sides. There's nothing but a vast hole in front of me, and I tremble, knowing in my gut if I go in, I’ll be lost forever.

My head shakes of its own accord. "This will not help; I'll never be the man they all remember and want to return."

"Your injuries to your shoulder and leg will continue to heal with physical therapy. Your prognosis is excellent, but only with continued work. Choosing to not work on any injury will do nothing but prolong the issues." He pauses, shoving his hand in his pocket.

“As we've discussed, the damage you've sustained to your Parietal and Temporal lobe doesn't necessarily mean you will never recover. We attribute your memory loss to your traumatic brain injury, and as a result, you have post-traumatic amnesia. This doesn't have to be a death sentence."

"But..." I wait because I know there's more.

His head drops. "You may never recover from the memory loss, but until we have more information, I refuse to guess what the future holds."

"And the fucking headaches? I suppose I'll get used to them or learn to live with them." My chest constricts as I fight off the fear hunting me down day and night of living a normal life.

"I can't promise you anything, but I can say working with a specialist is my best advice for you, and the only hope you may have of regaining your life." He folds his arms, waiting for me now.

"What if," I press my fingers into the sides of my head, praying for some relief. "I don't want to?"

"I suppose that's something you have to figure out on your own." He shifts, moving his weight from one foot to the other. "Let me make the referral, and you can make the decision from there."

"Even if I decide to go, I don't have much hope." I watch as his demeanor changes, he disagrees with me.

Doctor Burgess moves forward, readying to deepen the argument, I'm sure but is interrupted by a sound out in the hallway. Before he can finish his sentence, the entrance is filled frame to frame with a mountain of a man.

"Do you remember who I am?" His deep timbre breaks the silence.

He's pushed quickly to the side as his boss walks into the room. "He can't recall things before the accident, asshole."

"Jackson," I offer my hand as he approaches me. "happy to see all of you again."

"You're looking good, Hatch." He shakes it with a grin. Jackson Cole is the owner of Cole Securities, the company my father hired to extract me from my captors. Or so I'm told, I have no recollection of anything, including my father.

I move to the edge of the bed. "Doing much better, thanks to great doctors."

"Just doing my job, gentlemen." He scribbles something in my file before smiling at me. "I'll let you visit and swing by a little later."

"Sounds like a plan."

"You might not remember who you are, but you're still country as hell!" The big guy takes my hand, slapping me on the back.

I wince, trying to laugh it off. "Yeah, I suppose so. Glad to see you, Mark."

Quinn Miller, another team member, glares at Mark. "Sometimes, I really wonder about you."

"I get that a lot, people can't stop thinking about me." Mark grins like a shit-eating opossum.

"But I'm what their dreams are made of." Quinn flexes, making all of us roll our eyes. He laughs, reaching to shake my hand. "How you doing, man?"

"Fine. I mean, as good as can be expected."