by Barb Han
“I’m fine. Just a little clumsy.” Thankfully, embarrassment couldn’t kill her, or she’d be dead. A red blush climbed up her neck, she could feel the trail of warmth that eventually gathered in her cheeks.
“Can I help?” Blake asked the doctor, who had her stethoscope out and was already kneeling next to Alyssa.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” the doctor said after introducing herself to Alyssa. This close, it was easy to see Samantha Brendan’s beautiful clear blue eyes. She had the whole blond and beautiful bit down pat.
It was petty for Alyssa to be jealous of a beautiful woman knowing her ex-husband well enough to be willing to make a house call. Except her heart didn’t get the memo. It fisted at the thought of Blake being close with another woman on any level other than friendship or work colleague.
Calming down would be good. Jealousy had reared its ugly head with Liz and now with the doctor. Alyssa needed to relax, which, under the circumstances, felt next to impossible. There was so much she wanted to know.
The doctor performed a routine-enough exam, shining a small light in Alyssa’s eyes, taking her pulse, and then blood pressure. Dr. Brendan then wrapped her stethoscope around the back of her neck and took a seat on the solid oak coffee table.
“Can you tell me what day it is?” she asked.
“Thursday, but I already asked.”
“It’s good that you remember.” Despite not wanting to like the doctor, Alyssa did. The woman had kind eyes and a warm smile. “Were you injured?”
“My head.” She reached up to the tender spot, refusing to poke at it. “I must’ve taken a blow to the head.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
Alyssa sucked in a breath. “Go ahead.”
The doctor stood and had Alyssa lean forward. Movement made her woozy and she felt the effects of adrenaline having completely faded. Exhaustion settled into her bones and for the first time since arriving she felt tired. Weary might be a better word. Like she could barely hold her head up. A full stomach and a safe place allowed her to relax.
Dr. Brendan felt around the bump. Alyssa winced with contact.
“Sorry. I know this is tender.”
Tender was a good word. In that moment, it made Alyssa think of chicken. Chicken tenders. So, that’s where she was on the tired scale. She was becoming silly.
Thankfully, the doctor returned to her spot.
“I’d like to clean up the wound. Doesn’t look like you need stitches, so that’s the good news. The bad news is it’s going to hurt before it feels better.”
“Okay.”
True to her word, whatever she used to clean the area stung. In a few minutes, the work was completed, and the doctor returned to her spot while Blake stood in the background, feet apart in an athletic stance. His arms were folded across a broad chest—a chest she used to curl against when they watched a movie...
Reliving a past she couldn’t remember didn’t seem like a productive way to spend her time. Instead of going down that road, she redirected and instead focused on the doctor.
“Has the baby been moving?” Samantha asked.
“Yes.” Alyssa realized her hands came up to cradle her bump when the doctor mentioned the baby.
“Have you had any cramping or bleeding?” Dr. Brendan asked.
“No bleeding. I had cramping a little while ago. It was the reason Blake called.”
The doctor nodded. “Any other pain?”
“None. Other than the bruises hurting and me feeling like I could fall asleep sitting here, I think I’m okay.”
“Any nausea or vomiting?”
“Nothing.” She threw her hands up.
“Good. I’d say everything seems like it’s still on track with you and the baby. May I listen to the baby’s heartbeat?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The doctor pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and replaced the earpieces. “Sorry if this is cold.”
She rubbed the metal end before placing it on Alyssa’s exposed stomach.
“Strong heartbeat.” Dr. Brendan smiled. “Do you know if it’s a girl or boy?”
“Girl.”
Blake sucked in a burst of air.
“All good news here.” The doctor smiled. She nodded before turning to look at Blake. “Everything is looking good so far.”
The expression on his face was unreadable as he turned and walked out of the room.
“I can’t seem to remember what happened in the past eight months. A lot of my recent memories are wiped out. The past few days are a complete blank. I didn’t know I was divorced. I can tell you my name and where I live but I have no idea what day it is. Why is that?”
“Your head injury is most likely responsible for the selective memory loss. I also wouldn’t count out the trauma you’ve been under. Combine the two and—” she shrugged “—this is where it becomes a gray area in medicine. I wish I had a more definitive answer. The good news is you’re young and healthy and could hold on to memories that are closest to your heart.”
“Does that mean I won’t ever remember what happened?”
“No. It’s likely you’ll get pieces here and there. Bits that start to make more sense as other pieces come to you.”
“Like filling out a jigsaw puzzle?”
“That’s right. The more you try to force these things, the longer it usually takes.”
Alyssa figured as much. The attempts she’d made so far resulted in accomplishing no more than a headache.
“Give it time. You’re young and in excellent health.”
Time. Did she have time? As it was, she felt like the guys responsible were getting away. They could be long gone by now, never to return to this area. If she had been caught up in a criminal network, they could send someone else for her. The thought Alyssa might never be safe again sent fire swirling around in her chest. There was no end to which she wouldn’t go to keep her daughter safe.
Arms folded across his chest, Blake stepped inside the room and leaned against the wall.
“I’d like you to follow up with your OB as soon as possible.” After gathering up her belongings, the doctor said, “I can see myself out.”
“Thank you for coming by,” Blake said.
The day was catching up to Alyssa and since Blake didn’t seem in the mood for conversation she curled up on her side and hugged a pillow.
The questions she’d seen brewing behind his eyes would come soon enough.
Chapter Six
Blake rinsed the last of the plates before loading the dishwasher. He glanced up to see that Alyssa had curled up on the couch after the doctor left. His gaze traveled over her, stopping on her belly. A daughter? Blake couldn’t begin to process what that might mean or how it would change his life except to say his protective instincts were already kicking into high gear. Shoving those thoughts aside, he called in sick to work and polished off the rest of the pizza, trying not to think too much about the strange twist of fate that brought his pregnant ex-wife back to his doorstep.
Since his shoulders were strung tighter than an overstrung cello, he figured a workout would allow him to think more clearly while he waited for word from Liz.
Forty-five minutes later, he showered, drank a protein shake, and then settled in with his laptop. Earbuds in one side, he watched a replay of one of his favorite football games, which always helped him clear his mind when he was overthinking a situation or case. He didn’t want to know how many hours he’d spent working out and watching football in the weeks after Alyssa left. Liz was right. He’d been gutted.
Was she cold? He got up and walked toward her, grabbing a throw blanket on the way. The minute he placed it over her, she shot up. She curled her legs up and grabbed the blanket to cover herself. She sucked in a burst of air.
“Get away from me.” Her gaze was
unfocused, and he could tell she wasn’t seeing him. Was she still half asleep?
“You’re okay,” he soothed. “It’s me. Blake. You’re home. No one is going to hurt you here.”
Relief washed over her as she curled onto her side and immediately went back to sleep. The look of shock on her face was a gut punch he wouldn’t soon forget.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Blake reclaimed his seat at the table. Staring at the screen, he tried to shove the disturbing and confusing thoughts aside and enjoy the game. The image of her locked in a small closet churned in his mind. Then, there was the blow to her head. How had that happened? Had someone crept up on her from behind? Why didn’t someone see it? Where was she when it happened?
It was dark outside before Alyssa stirred again. This time, she stretched and yawned. He’d tried to give the situation a rest while she slept but it proved impossible. There were too many questions whirling around in his head for him to settle down enough to concentrate on the game let alone enjoy it.
“How long was I asleep?” She yawned and stretched out her long legs. This was the complete opposite of when she’d been startled awake. He’d barely touched her with the blanket when she’d withdrawn like a snake recoiling before a bite.
“A couple of hours.”
“Oh. Wow. Okay. It felt like a lot more.” She rubbed her eyes and then stretched her arms out.
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.” Her quick response told him she was starving.
He went to the kitchen and retrieved the food he’d ordered while she was asleep. “I had carne asada delivered from the Tex-Mex place you love. Or at least you used to.”
“Yeah. I haven’t had food from there since the last time we went.”
Eight months and one week to be exact. Although, he didn’t think this was the time to point the fact out to her. One minute he thought everything was fine. The next, she’d packed up and left while he was at work. The Dear John letter had been taped to the first place he hit after every shift, the fridge.
Blake shoved those thoughts aside as he walked into the kitchen. He pulled the covered plates out of the fridge and heated them, one at a time, in the microwave. Grabbing a TV tray on his way out, he set up a spot for her right where she sat. He grabbed her favorite flavored water from the cupboard and poured it over a glass with ice.
“When did you start drinking this? You hate water that fizzes,” she stated as he set the glass down.
“I didn’t. And I still do.”
“Oh.” That one word was loaded. And, no, he didn’t feel like explaining that he couldn’t toss out the orange-flavored fizzle water out of nostalgia, or that he maybe hadn’t completely gotten over losing her, or some ridiculous hope he’d clung to far longer than he should admit that she would come home.
So, he settled on, “I forgot it was in there until just now.”
“Oh.” Again, there was more meaning in that one word than if she’d strung together an entire paragraph.
His comment was partially true. And, no, he wasn’t being his best self by making it.
After settling in the same room but the opposite sofa, he asked, “Did you ask the doctor about your memory?”
“Yes.”
“Did she say when you can expect it to return?” After the way she left, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why this was the first place she thought to come.
“It’s tricky. There’s no one-size-fits-all for head injuries. Some of the reason I could have forgotten is the emotional trauma. The good news is that she did say at least parts of it should return.”
“That’s good for the case.” He looked up in time to see the disappointment in her expression. “What do you expect, Alyssa? You divorced me. Remember?”
She nodded. “I mean, I don’t remember actually, but I believe you when you tell me it was my decision. Although, I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
“Not just a decision, but one you made without consulting me or giving me a real reason.” He wasn’t trying to rile her up, so he cut himself off right there before he really said something he’d regret.
“Oh.”
He issued a sharp sigh. “What else did she say?” He figured the easy answer was that he was in law enforcement and she needed protecting, plus she most likely felt safe with him.
She shook her head, but he could see in her eyes that there was more to the story.
“Come on, Alyssa. I’m done with the secrets. If you want my help, you have to answer my questions honestly.”
Her gaze came up and locked on to his. “I could be holding on to the memories that are the dearest to my heart.”
Well, didn’t that shut him up. Talk about feeling two inches tall. Someone needed to brand him with the word jerk on his forehead.
“Hey, look, I didn’t mean—”
“No. Don’t. I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t remember what happened between us or why I felt the need to leave you like I did. The fact I can’t remember doesn’t mean I hurt you any less. I can only apologize for my past actions, Blake. I can’t go back and change them. I can’t in my right mind believe that I would leave a marriage after finding out that I’m pregnant. All my instincts had me running toward you, not away. So, I’m just as confused as you are. But I don’t blame you for being angry with me. Hell, I’m mad at me for leaving a marriage I couldn’t wait to come home to.”
Blake heard everything she was saying. This sounded like the Alyssa he once knew and fell in love with. The other one existed too. The one who had the power to rip his heart from his chest.
“It just dawned on me that you didn’t ask the doctor for a paternity test.” Shock raised her voice a couple of octaves.
“Nope.”
“Can I ask why?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Putting the guys who tried to hurt you behind bars is my number one priority right now. You getting your memory back is a close second. Anything beyond that is a distraction.” His cold words seemed to bounce off her. There was no way he was going down the road of thinking about becoming a father.
“That’s fair.” Her chin came up and out, a defensive move he’d seen her do before. “Now, can I ask a question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why do you think I left?”
Chapter Seven
“Your father.”
A stab of pain pierced Alyssa’s heart at the mention of her dad. How could she have forgotten the fact that he passed away? Was this how selective memory worked? Had she tucked away anything and everything that hurt to think about? It didn’t explain why his death would have caused a split between her and Blake, though.
“His death?” she asked, hoping for more clarification.
Blake nodded.
“It just seemed like a wall came up between us after your father died. At first, you leaned into me more. Then, something changed. You stopped talking to me. You started staying at the office later and later.” He took a bite of food and then chewed. “I thought you needed space.”
“And you gave it to me.” Of course he did. One thing stood out in her memories. Blake had been an attentive husband. For the life of her, she couldn’t think of one reason why she would have pushed him away. She didn’t recall his attention smothering her in any way. In fact, it had been exactly what she needed, when she needed it.
“You seemed to have a handle on what you wanted from me at the time,” he admitted, quickly covering the hint of regret in his tone.
“But that’s not what you think in hindsight?”
“I’m not so sure I did the right thing. My instincts back then had been to be there for you more. Instead, I buried myself in my work and told myself I was giving you space.” A momentary look of regret darkened his features. His plate suddenly became interesting as he jabbed his fork into
his steak burrito. Rather than take a bite, he pushed the food around on his plate.
“Do I still have a job?” Strange that she’d blocked out her work history.
“As far as I know. You inherited the family business from your father, so unless you sold it someone has to be running things. My guess is that person is you.”
“Could someone have taken me to extort money from the company?” She wanted to swing by the office and see what kind of reaction she’d get. Was this the right time to surface? Were those men or others just like them out there waiting for her? Looking for the right opportunity to pounce?
“It’s possible. From my understanding the business wasn’t raking in a ton of money.” He shrugged. “I got the impression you were basically donating your time to keep your father afloat before he passed away. But then...” He flashed his eyes at her before finishing the sentence. He seemed to think better of saying what was on his mind when he took another bite of food instead.
She decided it might be better to walk away from that one. If it was important, the subject would come up again.
“Think it’s safe to go to the office tonight? Poke around in my files?”
“We can. I can even arrange a police escort to your home...apartment?”
She shrugged. “Maybe we’ll find a home address for me at the office. I must have blocked out my new place along with the other memories.”
His cell buzzed. He looked around for it and then located it on the table. He pushed the tray away and almost knocked his plate off. His recovery displayed his athletic grace. He swooped the plate in his free hand while righting the tray with his other. Somehow, he managed to keep the fork from being catapulted across the room and nailing the opposite wall.
“Not bad, O’Connor,” she remarked, smiling.
“They didn’t call me Blake Hustle on the court for nothing.”
This time, her smile was genuine. For a split second, the barriers between them dropped and they resumed the easy way they had with each other. Of course, the bedroom had been a different story. There, they had more chemistry than a science lab. And since thinking about it was as productive as trying to get milk out of an orange, she forced her thoughts back to the buzzing cell phone.
