The Summer of Yes by Courtney Walsh EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Courtney Walsh
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.4 MB
- Price: Free
Kelsey
Beep. Beep.
Click. Drip.
Whirrrrr.
Click. Drip.
My eyes flutter open, from murky to gray to light and back to gray, like
the shutter on a camera taking pictures in the dark.
Head spinning. Voices muffled. Low, steady beeping persists.
Am I . . . in a hospital?
I force my eyebrows up, hoping they help crack my eyes open. The
movement sends a searing pain through my head, splitting it like an axe.
I try shifting my position and a sharp spasm cuts through my side. I gasp.
“Welcome back.”
My eyes struggle to focus, but eventually I see a nurse who looks
approximately fifteen years old fussing with a tube.
The tube that I now see is attached to my arm.
What in the world . . . ?
My mouth is crusty and dry, and my voice croaks out, “Am I . . . ?”
“You’re in the hospital.” She smiles. “I’m Cecelia, and I’ll be taking care
of you.”
Thanks to my parents, her name triggers an automatic Simon and
Garfunkel response, and I find myself trying hard not to get down on my
knees to beg her please to come home.
Flashes of coffee. And a car.
A car. But . . . did it? I can’t remember . . .
I try to sit up, suddenly alarmed. The room spins and I slump back on the
bed.
She lays a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. Take it slow,” she says.
Slow. Yeah, right. This child doesn’t know me at all.
She gently fluffs a stiff pillow behind my head. It’s one of those plastic
ones with a pillowcase that does nothing to stop it from feeling like I’m
lying on a bag of potato chips.
“Um . . . water?” I whisper-croak. “How am I here?”
“I’ll tell you what I know.” She pours water from a pink plastic pitcher
into a Styrofoam cup and sticks a bendy straw in it. “You were in an
accident. You were brought here unconscious with head trauma two days
ago.”
Two days ago? Head trauma?
Another flash of a car. I was hit by a car.
My first thought is: I don’t have time to get hit by a car.
My second thought, which I speak out loud, is: “Wh-what?”
She leans over and holds the straw to my lips. “Take it slow. Drink this.”
I take a sip, struggling to swallow, and to remember. It seems like being
hit by a car would be imprinted on my brain, but I’m foggy. The last thing I
remember is walking out of Starbucks toward the office. And the only
reason I was in Starbucks at all was because one of the assistants, Tess,
called in sick.
“It was a car accident,” she says, confirming my hazy memory. “The
vehicle jumped the curb and ran right into you.” Cecelia takes the cup back
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