When we arrive at the hospital, a nurse walks us to Stacy’s curtained-off bed, where she appears asleep but opens her eyes when we enter. A sob chokes her words. Mitchell and I hug her together, but Jude, hesitant, unsure it’s Stacy, hangs back a moment until he’s sure it’s her. He embraces her with several kisses on her temple and cheek, whispering something private in her ear. When the tears stop, Stacy finds her voice.
Confused, her eyes dart back and forth between us, nerves trembling her hands. “Guys, what happened? I’ve never blacked out. I’ve been a diabetic my entire life and never experienced anything like this. How could I forget an entire day? It doesn’t make sense,” she says, staring at her shaky hands. “The last thing I remember is dressing for breakfast, then it’s like someo
