Chapter 267
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Chapter 267:
Dr. Evans glanced at the charts, then at the monitors. “The patient’s brainwaves are showing highly abnormal spikes of activity p>
Jocelyn stopped breathing. She reached out blindly and grabbed Gaston’s forearm, her fingers digging into his suit jacket, her knuckles turning bone white.
Gaston placed his free hand over hers, steady and unmoving. His voice was a low, calm rumble in the quiet room.
“Does this mean she is waking up?” he asked.
𝘛𝘩е 𝘮𝗼𝗌𝗍 рo𝘱𝘶𝗹𝖺𝗋 𝗻𝗈𝗏e𝗹s 𝗈𝗻
Dr. Evans nodded slowly. “Yes. But you need to be prepared. The coma was traumatic. When she wakes, there will likely be significant cognitive complications p>
Hot tears spilled over Jocelyn’s lashes and tracked down her cheeks, warm and salty. She didn’t care about complications. She just needed her grandmother back.
A faint rustling came from the bed.
Jocelyn spun around.
Her grandmother’s index finger twitched against the white sheet. Then, slowly, her hand closed into a weak fist.
“Grandma?” Jocelyn dropped to her knees beside the bed, seizing the frail hand with both of hers, her whole body trembling. “Grandma, can you hear me p>
The old woman’s eyelids fluttered. They opened slowly, her eyes cloudy and unfocused, staring blankly at the acoustic tiles on the ceiling.
A long, rattling sigh escaped her dry lips.
Jocelyn pressed her forehead against the edge of the mattress, holding her grandmother’s dry, paper-thin hand against her cheek. Tears soaked into the white hospital blanket.
Grandma’s cloudy eyes slowly stopped wandering. They drifted down and locked onto Jocelyn’s face. Her brow furrowed, pulling the deep wrinkles of her forehead into a knot of pure confusion.
“Jocelyn.” Grandma’s voice was a dry, scratching whisper — like dead leaves scraping across concrete.
“I am here. I am right here.” Jocelyn sat up and wiped her wet face with the back of her hand.
“Why are you not wearing your dress?” Grandma asked, her eyes scanning Jocelyn’s casual sweater. “The blue one. For your high school graduation. You will be late p>
The smile on Jocelyn’s face froze. The muscles in her cheeks turned to stone.
High school graduation was seven years ago.
Gaston stepped closer to the bed. His jaw tightened. He looked over Jocelyn’s head, locking eyes with Dr. Evans.
Dr. Evans moved to the other side of the bed and drew a small penlight from his pocket.
“Mrs. Wolfe, can you tell me what year it is?” he asked gently.
Grandma looked at the doctor, annoyed. “It is two thousand and sixteen. Now let the girl get dressed. Her father is waiting in the car p>
Jocelyn slapped both hands over her mouth. A violent sob tore through her throat, muffled against her palms. Her father had died years before that. Her grandmother’s mind had come completely unmoored, pulling fragments of the past into a broken mosaic.
Gaston moved instantly. He wrapped his arm around Jocelyn’s shoulders and pulled her flush against his side, tucking her head beneath his chin. His chest was a solid wall against her trembling body.
“Let us step outside,” Dr. Evans said softly.