Forget Me Not Read Online Free Page B

what she had to do with it. "Sure," she said, shrugging.
    "You'll have to drive him to Oceana," Dr. Shafer explained. "In addition to the PTSD, he suffers from chronic fatigue syndrome—a result of sleep deprivation. Even with the meds he'll take to stay awake during the day, he really shouldn't drive. As for the memories, they're likely to return in bits and pieces called flashbacks. These can be prompted by a trigger or return to him in his dreams. He'll probably have trouble sleeping at night, so I've prescribed some sleeping pills, as well."
    Helen pictured Gabe prowling through the house at night and shivered.
    "Dr. Terrien will have more advice to give you the day after tomorrow," the doctor added.
    She took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I'm sorry: What time is that appointment?'
    "Fourteen hundred."
    Two o'clock. She'd have to leave work early to take Gabe to his appointment Wednesday.
    Commander Shafer prepared to withdraw. "It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Renault, Mallory." He shook hands with both of them. "I'll leave you three to visit, and I'll see you tomorrow when you come—say, oh nine hundred? We'll need you to sign some papers then."
    "Okay," she said again, though it was achingly apparent that her own life was definitely over, just as she'd known it would be.
    The door snicked shut behind the doctor, and the three of them were left alone.
    Gabe gave her a searching look.
    Helen avoided it and looked around the room instead.
    "Someone brought you flowers?" she asked, seeing a big bouquet of lilies on the bureau.
    "Commander Lovitt," Gabe said with a faint twist of his lips. "He was just here to see me."
    "That was nice of him."
    "Master Chief's flying in tonight. I should see him soon."
    Good, Helen thought. The more support from his team the better. It took some of the weight off her. "They had you on IV," she noted, seeing the empty sack beside his bed.
    "Yeah, I've been on sugar water and antibiotics for a week. Today I graduated to toast" He gave her his crooked smile again and looked down at his feet almost shyly.
    Helen noticed with a start that one of his teeth was missing. It ruined the perfect symmetry of his smile and gave him a roguish look instead. "You've been in the hospital for a week?" she asked, just processing the information he' d given her. "How come no one called me till tonight?"
    "I was overseas. I had a fever and I slept for days. They had to match me to my dental records, which were apparently misfiled or something. No one believed me when I told them who I was."
    "We thought you were dead," she blurted. The words slipped out of her before she could stop them.
    He gave her a wounded look—another expression she'd never seen on him before. Studying him more closely, she saw other changes, too. There were several fine scars around his mouth and on his brow ridge that hadn't been there before. He'd been punched in the face, numerous times.
    Dear Lord. "Is there..." She swallowed hard. "Is anything wrong with you besides your memory?" she dared to ask.
    He shrugged, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm thinner than I've ever been. I've got a few scars." He curled his left hand into a fist, hiding the stunted fingernails she'd already glimpsed.
    Thinking of what he'd been through made her stomach queasy. But he prided himself on his independence, so she held her words of consolation in check.
    Leaving them with nothing to talk about.
    They both looked at Mallory, who was staring at Gabe with her heart in her eyes. Mallory who'd hugged her dad for the first time in years.
    "So what grade are you in?" Gabe asked, surprising Helen with his interest.
    "It's summer vacation," Mallory explained. "I'm going to go to high school in a month." This was said in a very adult manner.
    "Wow," said Gabe. He looked at her intently. "So you're what, fourteen?"
    "Almost. I have a late birthday, September second."
    "Mine's in July. I remember turning thirty-three but not thirty-six.