Heartstrings

by Kelli McCracken

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  A Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  EPILOGUE

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Other Works by Kelli McCracken

  Works by Other Authors

  Acknowledgments

  Contact Information

  HEARTSTRINGS

  Kelli McCracken

  Copyright © 2015 Kelli McCracken

  All rights reserved.

  To Baby G,

  Gone, but never forgotten

  Warning:

  You’re about to embark on a journey—one filled with many twists and turns. It may not have the fast-paced tempo you’re looking for, and that’s okay. Not everyone will understand the words between these pages.

  But, if you read further, I can assure you of what you will get. A fulfilling story. A dramatic story. My story.

  Slow beginnings transform into extraordinary endings. But be cautious. Once you turn this page, you’ll be drawn into a world that could make you lose your mind. I should know. It nearly made me lose mine.

  ~ Jo Hayes

  ~ PROLOGUE ~

  They say that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. It’s supposed to be some sort of montage of all the great moments, and even the not so great. I disagree. There were no great moments flashing before me. Nothing was, but then, I wasn’t dead.

  Not yet.

  The lull of voices in the distance droned in my head, but the words were lost in my confusion. It spun inside me like a violent storm, twisting me in and out of consciousness. How odd it was hearing whispers when chaos lingered in the atmosphere.

  My eyes wouldn’t open. I made the attempt, but the repetitious pounding in my temple increased each time my lashes fluttered. What little strength I had faded. Exhaustion consumed me, as did the brisk air on my skin.

  The breeze was bone chilling. I wanted to chatter my teeth but they wouldn’t cooperate. No part of my body would. I needed the warmth of a blanket so I could bury myself underneath it. Then I could shut out the cold, as well as the newly formed throbbing behind my navel.

  A sudden bump jostled me. It felt as though my head were in a vise and someone was tightening it. The pain coupled with a wave of nausea that forced an acidic fluid into my mouth. The squeaking coming from below didn’t help. If something didn’t give, I’d throw up any second.

  I shouldn’t be here, wherever here was. It was someplace frigid…that smelled of blood, tears, and death. A hint of desperation lingered in the air.

  Strangely, it thickened the fear in my heart just the same.

  Lights flashed on the other side of my stubborn lids. They compared to a strobe light in brightness but differed in pattern. Instead of repetitious flickers, they rolled over me, head-to-toe, allowing darkness to creep back in before another flash passed.

  I wanted to move, wanted to sit up and pry my eyes open. There was somewhere I needed to be and this darkened purgatory wasn’t it.

  The weight of my body moved to the right, furthering the spinning in my head. Though I could wiggle my toes, I couldn’t ground myself. It was like I was floating. The only thing that convinced me I wasn’t was the soft, cool fabric cradling my back.

  Another round of voices filled my ears. None rang familiar, nor did I understand any of their words, but they weren’t the same soft ones as earlier. These voices were shouting.

  When the spinning receded, bony fingers met my arms and back. A few more slid beneath my legs. Their coolness penetrated my clothes as they pulled and tugged at me. The cool fabric, once at my back, no longer cradled it. Then a burst of icy air spread down my spine.

  Each spiraling second had my heart beating faster. My muscles pinched and burned with spasms. They didn’t stop until something covered me, followed by a brief wave of warmth. The bright light above softened.

  Maybe I was home, tucked safely into my bed. This was all a bad dream. One I would wake from soon. Then I could get back to my life.

  What life?

  A tendril of fear coiled through every fiber in my being. I struggled to recall memories, hoping they would explain why I couldn’t escape the darkness that trapped me. Fragments played through my mind, connecting like snowflakes on a windowpane. Each one built on the next until a smaller image came into play.

  Though I didn’t know where I was, I knew my name. Jocelyn Hayes. I knew that people expected a lot of me. Always had. Probably always would.

  Some of those expectations came from my family. Except my brother… Yes! That’s right. I have a brother. Bryce…or Brian… No. Those didn’t sound right.

  Brighton.

  I wished the word had rolled off my tongue instead of bouncing inside my head. If it weren’t for the ache throbbing throughout my body, I could concentrate. No chance in that happening. Not when it felt like a Mack truck had barreled over me.

  Forcing myself to thoughts of Brighton, I had an inkling that he was the reason I was, well, fighting to remember something—anything—about the last few hours of my life. Enough memories came to mind to know one thing for certain. My brother knew how to find trouble. Hopefully, this time he hadn’t found it for the both of us.

  Thinking about some of his idiotic choices made me want to shudder. I wanted to do anything but lie here, motionless, speechless, inebriated.

  The urge to scream raged within me, but the anger gave way to a series of flashes. Each one lit up my mind and brought memories with it. Those images made my senses explode. Bare, winter trees flickered in the distance. Those same trees blurred a moment later as tires squealed. The scent of rubber assaulted my nose. Even the taste of smoke smothered my tongue. But it all came to a halt when a horrible sound filled my ears—a piercing screech followed by glass crunching.

  One last image flashed before me. The bluest of blue eyes. Then they, like a last puff of steam, faded from my mind, leaving it silent once more.

  Seconds turned to minutes before new questions surfaced. Had all of this happened at once, or was it a collection of memories? I’d never find out if my body kept refusing to cooperate.

  And then it happened.

  A small ray of light slipped past my lids, sending an assortment of colors across my vision. It reminded me of a kaleidoscope. No images, just beautiful colors. But the hues began to fade as my lazy lids fell together, stealing away the precious light.

  Darkness entrapped me once more. I couldn’t move much of anything, but the ache in my muscles reminded me that I was still alive. As did another wave of nausea. Yet there was one body part void of feeling—my right hand. Unlike everything else, no pain thrummed through it. Nothing did. No warmth. No coldness. Not even a tingle.

  There was little time to think about any of it. Another ray of light lit up the room. Something hovered above me. Its silhouette blurred together, but the last sound t
o fill my ears came from its direction.

  I concentrated on the sound, noting the way the droning tone shifted to a rise and fall. A couple words were comprehensible.

  Portable X-ray…Needs a specialist…administered STAT…bigger problems than…long recovery ahead…

  Each word sent a flurry of questions through my mind.

  Playing with the symphony taught me every musical term known to man, but I wasn’t a stranger to the medical field or its terminology. I guess it helped being the daughter of a nurse, or at least, it helped me realize that the words spewing from the shadow above me were not to be taken lightly. And that thought, coupled with my confusion, increased the fear plucking at my mind. There was only one reason someone would be using such terms in my presence.

  My God, Brighton, what did you get me into this time?

  I squeezed my lids shut, no longer able to deny the truth. I knew where I was, though I didn’t know for sure if Brighton was the reason I’d ended up at the hospital, struggling to move, to see, to hear.

  Cool hands greeted my temples. Another set teased my neck and the contraption surrounding it. One of the voices buzzed again. I made out the words X-ray is clear before snapping filled my ears. Brisk air curled around my shoulders, spreading toward my chin while something pulled away from my neck.

  Spinning returned to my head as my cheek fell against the bed’s padding. I forced myself to look at my surroundings and stared toward a wall. Only it wasn’t really a wall. A standard emergency room curtain stretched between me and the other room.

  But not enough.

  A man lay on the bed, in a prone position, much like I was. The shorter sides of his auburn hair gave way to longer strands near his face. A set of hands worked over the contraption surrounding his neck. Then a snap clicked through the air, similar to the one I’d heard a moment ago. The man’s cheek met the padding of the bed, also like mine, and he was facing in my direction.

  It didn’t matter that one of his eyes was practically swollen shut. Both still locked with mine. Dried blood shadowed the corner of his lips, but they were moving with words I couldn’t hear.

  I really wanted to hear what he was saying. Knowing another person was experiencing a similar emergency brought a sliver of comfort to me. One that left as quickly as it arrived when his eyes closed again.

  As green scrubs blocked my view, I gazed at the ground. A dull ache warmed my hand. Finally. The gratitude didn’t last long as thoughts of the man beside me came into play. I struggled to see past the person standing in front of him. A brief glimpse here and there didn’t reveal much. Then the person blocking my view finally moved. I observed the man again, noticing a plastic mask covering his nose and mouth.

  Concern pinched my heart as reality set in. His bruised and bloodied face. The neck brace. Now oxygen. His injuries outweighed mine.

  Or so I thought until the throbbing in my hand turned to searing.

  I sucked in a breath.

  It wasn’t long before a voice reverberated to my right. “Increase that Lorazepam. The patient is alert.”

  The male voice was barely audible over the sound of my heart crashing against my chest. And even those wicked thumps didn’t faze me. Nothing did but the object in view. My hand.

  Where long, slender fingers should have been, crimson stained skin peeled away in certain sections, revealing what looked like ripped flesh. Lines of black and opaque tissue weaved through the mangled skin before combining with my scarlet drenched palm.

  I ignored the sudden pinch in my skin. A new wave of warmth flushed my cheeks as it spread toward my toes. The pain medication would take me away any second. Not that I cared at this point. Only one thought remained in my mind.

  I’d never play piano again.

  ~ CHAPTER ONE ~

  The midday sun burned brightly through the window, though I could not feel its warmth on my skin. The tempered glass blocked the rays I longed to feel. God, did I long to feel them, not just because they were early signs of spring. They represented freedom.

  My freedom.

  I needed to escape, to feel something besides the tightness in my chest. Freezing in the winter wind would be a far better feeling.

  While liberation loomed in the near future, the world beyond the window was a welcome change of scenery. Anything was better than the cream-colored walls staring back or the crisp white sheets that donned my legs for the last four days.

  In reality, they’d covered me longer, but those memories were blurred. I had no memory of arriving at the hospital or the last few weeks I’d spent in this room.

  I’d always heard about the power of the human brain. How it could repress thoughts that were too painful to bear. Some called it a subconscious source of survival, but to me, it was a source of bitterness and frustration.

  Envisioning the warm sunrays provided a level of comfort, more so than the tube attached to the bend in my arm. No amount of narcotics pushed through said tube would ease the pain pulsing inside my hand, or the one paralyzing my heart.

  Purple lines spread from the tips of my fingers to my palm. They distracted me from the monotone voice buzzing in the distance but not from my irritation. My cheeks stung. Each word the doctor uttered should have been directed toward me, not my brother. He could barely remember to feed his fish. What made this doctor think Brighton could care for me when I went home? Because he’d been with me for the past few days, putting on his charming smile for anyone who entered the room?

  They reviewed the discharge papers as if I wasn’t sitting a few feet away. It was rude. End of story. No one had the same level of interest in my life the way I did. And I wasn’t a child that needed coddling. I was a grown woman, twenty-six years in the making.

  Yet here I sat, pressing my toes into the footpads of the wheelchair. Each time the word ‘she’ passed between the doctor and Brighton, the gritty sound of clenched teeth filled my head. How long did they plan on discussing me? I wanted to leave. Wanted to go to the home I’d remembered two days ago. If I could have mustered the strength, I would have gripped the wheels and rolled my way out of the room. Instead, I tuned them out, focusing on the nurse who approached.

  “I have some pills for you, Miss Hayes. I’ll remove your I.V. after you take them.”

  The small, paper cup teased my palm as I stared at its contents. Two white tablets. Must be the pain medication my doctor mentioned to Brighton. Great. Hopefully he wouldn’t tell his dope-head buddies.

  Crushing the sides of the cup, I popped the pills in my mouth, chasing them with the water the nurse placed in my hand. The tablets had just enough time to slide down when Brighton shook the doctor’s hand. Seconds later, he kneeled in front of me.

  His lips tightened to his teeth, yet they curved all the same. His game face. He used it on everyone but me. I couldn’t count the times that expression worked on other people, allowing him to get whatever he wanted. Did he honestly think I’d buy it?

  Guess I wasn’t the only one who needed to regain their memories.

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  I started to answer him but clenched my teeth instead. An explosion went off in my arm, making it thump with each heartbeat.

  “Sorry about that,” the nursed cooed above. “Sometimes a vein blows when we remove an I.V. If you notice a little swelling or bruising, just use some ice.”

  I released my breath as the nurse placed a cotton ball and tape over the puncture site. “It’s okay. My mom’s a nurse, so I understand.”

  The woman’s hands stilled. Curiosity washed over her face, drawing her brows down. She started to speak, but peeked in Brighton’s direction.

  His face mirrored the nurse’s, igniting a spark of recognition in me. Then reality hit.

  “You remembered something, Jo. That’s awesome.”

  Not really. I couldn’t think of anything else that reminded me of my mom, except her bright blue eyes, fiery red hair, and a heart so big, love spilled over.

  Brig
hton’s movement regained my attention when he stood. I wanted to demand an answer from him. The more he smiled, the more it plucked my nerves. “It’s one, tiny detail, Brighton. Get excited when I can remember everything, okay? Otherwise, you’re gonna drive me insane. More than you usually do.”

  His chuckle echoed off the nearby wall, where he leaned on his arm. “See, you remember what a pain in the ass I am. I’d say you’re on the road to recovery.”

  “I don’t think it’s a memory. I think it’s a twin thing.” My forehead wrinkled from my response. So did Brighton’s.

  “And you prove my point yet again. Your memories are coming back. You’ll be yourself in no time.”

  He tried to feign a smile, but I couldn’t ignore the sadness inside him. Maybe his eyes gave it away, or maybe our twin bond did factor into it. Regardless of how I knew he was sad, the reason why worried me most.

  God, I hope he isn’t using again.

  Once the nurse left the room, Brighton stepped away from the wall. He stopped at the side of the wheelchair, curling his fingers over my shoulder. The warmth gave me a smidgen of comfort. Regardless of how much my subconscious warned me to be cautious of him, I couldn’t deny having him there meant something. No one else had shown up. Did I have any—?

  “Your memories will continue to return. I have faith in you, Jo. You have too much determination to give up.”

  “You probably shouldn’t have told me that. Aren’t you influencing me?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  His voice fell away when I shrugged out of his grasp. So what if he was the only one there. I couldn’t take all the secrets. Not when they revolved around my life.

  Brighton refused to back away. He knelt in front of the wheelchair again, gripping the sides as he leaned closer. “I can’t imagine what you are going through. What I do know is that getting frustrated won’t help.”