The light shining into my eyes feels like knives. I try to turn my head away from the pain, but my head is glued to the pillow. Or weighed down by rocks.

Either way, I can only groan and suffer until the light goes out.

So much fucking better in the dark.

“Well, hello,” a woman’s voice says.

“Wha zup?” I ask, and pause, because my brain hurts and my mouth is doing its own thing, not paying much attention to what I want to say. “Wha,” I try again, “happen?”

Fucking hell.

Just how drunk am I? I feel as if I drunk a truckload of beers. Or maybe chasers? That would do it, wouldn’t it?

Doubt wiggles in the back of my head like a worm. This has happened to me before, hasn’t it?

Wiggle.

There was a time I woke up on the floor of my bathroom, and couldn’t remember my own name.

More wiggles.

It’s fine. I mean, that time it took me a few moments to get my bearings. Remember what I’d done the night before. The girl I’d fucked behind the bar. Her name and all.

So it will come back to me in a minute.

The reason why I’m lying in a bed that isn’t my bed. In a room that isn’t my room. Is it a hotel room? I glance at the bare walls, and wince at their whiteness.

Doesn’t feel like a hotel room.

I’m so tired.

I can’t remember how I got here. Or why I am here.

Wait. Wasn’t there a person in the room just now? Where did they go?

I try to roll my head and a groan tears out of me in response to the blinding pain exploding inside my skull.

Holy motherfucker.

Closing my eyes tight, I struggle through the agony, and it goes on and on until I think I’ll die. My head will blow into pieces. Jesus.

And then it stops – or I pass out, I don’t know which, and frankly I don’t care.

* * *

“What is your name?” the annoying guy with the penchant for torture asks me again, shining the pen light in my eyes.

“Told you already.”

“Tell me again.”

“Kaden.”

“Kaden who?”

“Kaden—” It’s right on the tip of my tongue. I mean, obviously, I’m Kaden…Kaden who?

Why the fuck can’t I remember my own name?

The wiggle in my mind is expanding, turning into a snake trying to swallow me whole. I’m shaking, my breath coming in a funny rattle.

“Don’t panic, Kaden,” the man says in what might pass for a soothing tone of voice. I’d punch him if I wasn’t so shaky. “This is perfectly normal.”

Well then.

“Fuck you,” I manage through chattering teeth. “This isn’t fucking normal.”

He shakes his head as if I’m making him sad, and turns to go.

“Wait!” I make a grab for him, but don’t manage to catch him. “What is my name?”

“Kaden,” he says with a perfectly straight face. “It will come back to you, I’m sure.”

That makes one of us.

Because it should have come back to me already, shouldn’t it? What kind of booze makes you forget your name for so long?

How many hours will I need?

There’s a glass of water on my bedside table. I can’t remember anyone bringing it, but I grab it and take a long gulp. I just need to hydrate, and maybe eat something.

Yeah, eating something would be good. It will help me recall what the fuck I did to land in this… hospital.

I am in a hospital.

Never a good sign.

My heart is booming in my chest, and I slam the glass back on the table, feeling sick. My stomach is churning, threatening to bring the water right back up.

Why am I in a goddamn hospital? What happened?

What do I remember?

I try to think back, but my head starts to throb. My heartbeat pounds behind my eyes, hammers against my temples.

Fuck. Who can tell me? Who can I call?

A face flashes through my mind, and I lean my aching head back, relieved. Yeah, of course. I may have forgotten my own name, but I could never forget hers.

I need to call my girlfriend.

I need to call Hailey.

* * *

“Some people are here to see you,” the nurse says, a nice lady with a low voice that is very much appreciated, given how my headache only has a) blinding or b) ‘shoot-me-now’ levels.

“Hailey?” I rasp hopefully. I’ve asked for her several times only to be told they don’t have her contact information.

I really need to declare her as my next of kin one of these days.

“No, not Hailey,” she says, dashing my hopes. “Your family is here.”

“Really?” I blink at her nonplussed. “So fast? I’ve only been here an hour.”

She blinks back at me. “You have been here since yesterday, Kaden.”

The hell she says.

“Very funny,” I whisper and rub at my eyes. My vision keeps going blurry. “Ha ha.”

“I’ll send them in.” She turns and goes without cracking a smile, dammit.

Since yesterday. Sure.

Whatever.

But then the door opens again and my mom walks in, so how…? This is surreal.

Maybe I’m dreaming.

Yeah, I have to be dreaming, because my brother follows behind her with his girl and his two kids.

“Matt?” I choke out. “Mom? What are you guys doing here?”

“What do you think, you oaf?” my brother grumbles, leaving the kids with his girl –Octavia, yeah, that’s her name – and plants his ass on my bed. “Visiting.”

“Right,” I mutter, because I’m too tired to bitch. Besides, it’s nice to see them.

Really fucking nice, and for some reason my eyes start to burn, and oh fuck no, I’m about to bawl like a baby.

Christ.

I’m sick. That must be it.

“I’m sick, right?” I lift a hand to my eyes and it comes away wet. Jesus fuck. “What is it, am I dying and you’re not telling me, huh? That why you all gathered at my bedside?”

One of the kids suddenly starts to cry, and Octavia grabs both kids and leaves the room.

I’m breathing hard. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I’m not sure I wanna find out.

“Nobody’s dying,” Matt says firmly, although there’s a crack in his voice. He looks away for a second, as if to compose himself.“You will be fine, jackass, so don’t talk of death in front of my kids, okay? They’re traumatized enough as it is.”

It takes me a moment to process this, and my brain aches like a fucker as it comes back to me.

Matt’s wife. The kids’ mother. She died of cancer a few years back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“S’ okay.” He pats my shoulder and it sends shockwaves through my head that make me wince. “How you feeling?”

The question is fucking proof that something did happen to me. But what?

“Oh, I feel fucking great.” I steal a glance at mom, but she seems busy staring out the window. “Been partying all day here. Great place. What do you think?”

Matt rubs his forehead as if I am giving him a headache.

Good.

“So now that’s out of the way…” I try to sit up straighter but every movement ratchets up the pain inside my skull. “What the fuck happened to me?”

Matt grimaces. “It will come back to you.”

“What the fuck, Matt. Tell me, or I swear I’ll—”

“You need to rest,” he says, patting my shoulder again, goddammit, like I’m five again and he’s the oldest who knows all the secrets. He gets up to go. “We’ll see you later.”

I frown. “You staying longer in town? Matt—”

“Rest. Come on, mom. Let’s give him space.”

“I don’t want space. Where’s Hailey? Can’t you call her? Matt!”

But the door closes behind them with a quiet snick, and the truth is, the goddamn fucking truth is that I’m so tired that one moment I’m cursing my brother’s stubborn ass, and the rest I’m drifting back into sleep.