Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “How in the hell could you have known that?”

  “I told you. I watched, and I listened. I saw things no one else did. And what I saw was something I related with. So I went out, lay beside you, and wrapped my hand around yours. Maybe it was a weak moment for you, but you didn't pull away. That night, we gazed into the night sky for hours, not saying a word to each other. When you got up to leave, you held your hand out to help me up, and it just happened. That moment... from that moment, we were us.”

  The neighbor's music blared through the thin walls, and the elephant man who lived above stomped like he was about to come through the ceiling. We just sat there, content, me in his arms on my dirty kitchen floor.

  I smiled down at the empty glass in my hand. “Is this happening? You here?” Angling my face, I nuzzled his neck and took in a deep breath. “Sorry, I get snuggly with white wine. I'm not responsible for my actions after one glass.”

  The rumble of his words vibrated from his chest to mine. “And how many have you had?”

  “One. For sure two,” I breathed against his skin. “Okay, could be three. I guzzled a lot when I got home.”

  “Because you felt bad for leaving me?”

  “Yeah... my bad.”

  “My. Bad. That's all you have to say? How about ‘Sorry I left you, Brenton, and I'll gladly let you bend me over the counter to make up for it.’”

  My half gasp, half giggle filled the kitchen, and I shoved his chest. Beneath my fingers, his chest shook as he chuckled at my reaction. Fine lines spread out from his eyes from a full, happy smile.

  “The counter is too cold.”

  His green eyes twinkled with a challenge. “We could negotiate on the location, Beks. But until you amend the whole no-touching piece of our agreement, I'm hands off.”

  “I hate sober me right now,” I grumbled, then grabbed his tea to take a swig. “Thanks.” With the hem of my T-shirt, I wiped the remnants from my upper lip.

  “Rebeka?” My full name and the restrained anger in the single word caught me off guard. Instead of looking at me, his eyes were zeroed in on my stomach. “What's that?”

  Right. Mr. I Forgot What I Did To You.

  “Not all my scars are emotional, B,” I said, almost like a curse before pushing off his leg to stand. The room swayed at the quick movement, but strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. I tried to shrug him off but couldn't loosen his grip.

  “Answer me.”

  “No,” I gritted out, then tilted my head back to meet his burning gaze. “Fuck you. You can't demand to know—”

  “Fuck yes I can!”

  “Not when you should already know, dammit. I wasn't as lucky.” He dropped his hold and took a step back but kept his stare locked with mine. The cracking of his knuckles echoed in the kitchen. “And I know I'm a fucking bitch for being pissed at you for not knowing and to keep bringing this up, but you know what, I have that right. I have the right to....” As I stared into his eyes, a revelation pushed through. “I have the right to do whatever the fuck I want.”

  The force of my lips pushing against his knocked his head against the cabinet. I brushed my fingertips up the inked arms I'd been lusting after all day and gripped his shoulder, digging my nails into his tight muscles.

  “Rebeka.” My name on his lips pulled a throaty groan from my chest. “Rebeka.”

  “No, I don't want to think. I don't want to remember. I don't want to be mad anymore. Take me, right here, right now.”

  “Beks—”

  Instead of letting him talk me out of my plan, I shifted against the very noticeable hard-on pressing between my thighs. The hiss that passed over his lips gave the opening I needed. Massaging his tongue with my own, I offered him everything I had in hopes of convincing him this needed to happen.

  “Please, B,” I begged against his lips. “I need this. I need you.”

  In response, his fingers brushed up the back of my spread thighs to grab a handful of ass, pushing me harder against him.

  “Make me forget,” I whispered, opening my eyes only to find his already open and staring down into mine.

  “Make me remember,” he whispered back.

  Clutching the hem of my T-shirt between my fingers, I tugged it over my head and let it float to the floor. Callused hands skimmed across my scarred stomach. His thumbs brushed up and down causing a wonderful heat to spark each place he touched. Green eyes locked with mine his head dipped and slick lips pressed tender kisses along my ruined skin. My eye lids fluttered closed at the adoring way he treated the part of me I loathed the most.

  Forehead pressed to my bellybutton his roaming hands paused just below my bra.

  “Man up, Graves,” I groaned. “I'm not drunk. I'm horny as hell, and I need you to fix the issue.” Taking one step and then another, I leaned against the opposite cabinet. “We can go slow later if you want. I'll even whisper sweet nothings in—”

  He covered the small area between us in one step. Hands around my waist, he hauled me up and set me not so gently on the counter.

  “Holy hell, that's hot,” I said against the skin of his neck. Angling back, I pointed to his shirt. “Off. Take it off.”

  “Damn, woman,” he admonished, but still ripped it over his head, giving me a full view of his muscular shoulders, perfection pecs, and defined abs. White wine dripped from my lips. Yep, wine not drool. Wine.

  “B.”

  “Beks.”

  “If you don't take care of this situation right now, I'll start without you.”

  “Bossy little thing, aren't you?” he murmured as his hand wrapped around my throat, tipping my chin up with his thumb. “If I wasn't so obsessed with winning, I might like to watch that show of your hand doing everything I told it to.”

  “Brenton,” I begged. With a quick dip of my chin, I snagged his thumb between my lips and bit the soft pad.

  Pressure released around my ribs, and the bra straps eased down my arms. Sharp nibbles traced along my collarbone, sinking lower and lower with each pass.

  “You have fucking perfect tits,” he mumbled against my skin, palming both breasts for emphasis. His teeth softly nipped at my peaked nipple, shooting a jolt through my body. I dug my short, dark nails into his scalp, holding him tighter against my chest.

  After each bite, his lips and tongue sucked and licked to ease the pain, only to repeat the pattern all over again. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure had me squirming against the laminate in search for anything to relieve the building pressure between my thighs.

  “Pants off, now,” he commanded. At the slight hesitation, he pulled me off the counter and set my feet on the ground. Caging me between his strong arms, he said, “Now.”

  A shiver racked my shoulders as I stared into his hooded eyes. “And if I don't?”

  Another chill raced down my spine at his intense stare. “Condom.”

  “Bedroom, side drawer.”

  Instead of bolting to the bedroom like every other male would’ve done, he widened his stance and crossed those inked arms over his broad, naked chest. “Came back with that answer pretty quick. Needed those recently, have you?”

  “What?” I croaked. We were not having that conversation now. “Brenton,” I whined.

  “Answer first.”

  “Maybe once, twice. Hell, I don't know. Does it matter who I've slept with when they were all piss-poor fill-ins for you?”

  Something I couldn't read flashed in his stare. With a curse, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving me half naked, confused, and waiting.

  And waiting.

  One minute, then another passed without him returning. I snagged his T-shirt from the floor, slipped it over my head and tiptoed down the short hall to peek around the corner into the bedroom. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at something clutched in his hands.

  “You coming back?”

  “I gave you this. I remember.”

  Inching around the doorframe, I eased into the bedroom and sat b
eside him on the bed. I pulled the stuffed pony he must have found in the drawer from his hands. “When you got accepted to SMU.”

  “I remember buying it, giving it to you after flying in from Dallas. You....” Turning, he leveled me with a hard, considering stare. “You were proud of me. Believed me when I thought I could be more than what everyone expected of me. And I....”

  “You promised you'd always come back for me.”

  The room’s temperature dropped several degrees with the shift in his demeanor. Gently he pulled my forehead to his lips for a chaste kiss and took the stuffed pony from my hands. The mattress creaked as he stood and walked out the bedroom door, closing it behind him with a soft click without looking back.

  Hot tears welled, but I held them in. Too many tears had been cried over that man. No more. But now the tears spawned from a new, different emotion.

  For a man who had anything and everything he could ever want, I felt sorry for him.

  Like a zombie, I brushed my teeth, stripped out of my jeans, and slid into the unmade bed. It was only early afternoon, but the roller-coaster emotions of the morning, plus the wine, pulled me into a deep sleep the second my head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 9

  Rebeka

  A DELICIOUS SCENT CREPT into the bedroom and stirred me awake what felt like days later. A quick glimpse of the clock indicated it had only been a little over three hours since I lay down. Another waft of something yummy filtered through the room, urging me out of bed and toward the living room. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but he came bearing food, so that was a positive sign. I eased into the living room where he lay on the couch, focused on the ceiling.

  “Pizza's still hot,” he said without looking over.

  “Thanks, I'm starving.” Not bothering with a plate, I grabbed a piece, flipped the cardboard lid closed, and took a bite. “Oh my goodness. Best pizza ever.” After snagging a paper towel, I perched on a barstool and swiveled to watch him. It was only then that I realized he had on a shirt, which was crazy since I still wore the one he had on earlier, plus new shorts and tennis shoes. The man was decked out head to toe in Under Armour gear. “Did you go out?”

  “Yep. I was hungry and decided to stop by Academy to get clothes that fit.” His eyes shifted from the ceiling to me. “I left a note in case you woke up while I was gone.”

  “I would’ve gone with you.”

  “No, I needed to think.” The deformed cushions of my old couch shifted and parted as he swung his legs over the side to sit up. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands between his spread thighs. “I remember. Everything.”

  A piece of hot cheese sucked down my windpipe. “Everything?” I asked between coughing fits. “You need to be more specific,” I gasped.

  “I stared at that damn horse.”

  “Pony.”

  He rolled his eyes and focused on his clasped hands. “I remember us. Remember our talks. And hell, Beks....” With a deep breath, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Our deep connection drew me from the stool to sit beside him. The muscles of his thigh bunched under the comforting hand I placed over it. “I remember what you told me about your dad.”

  With my free hand, I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear and focused on his shoulder. “We didn't have very different childhoods. Yours was worse by far though. I never knew how you did it. Kept going back. Every summer, it took longer and longer for the real Brenton to break free.”

  “But I did.”

  “For me you did,” I said with a smile.

  “I need to know if remembering the past fixed me.”

  I shook my head and leaned back against the couch, putting our heads side by side. That close, his body heat seeped over, warming my chilled skin. “You were never broken. Did you turn the air conditioning down?”

  “Yes, it was fucking hot in here.”

  “Dammit, Brenton, that shit is expensive.”

  “I told you I don’t do uncomfortable if I can help it. I’ll pay for the damn bill.” He yanked me back to the couch when I tried to stand. “Sit down and piss me off.”

  “You're a selfish bastard for walking away from me half naked earlier.”

  Instead of pissing him off like I hoped, a smile pulled his lips up, popping that damn dimple. “Selfish bastard or gentleman. Could go either way.”

  “Fucking tease is what you are.”

  “Wow,” he breathed. “You don't hold back, do you?”

  “Guess that’s another piece of me you haven't remembered yet. I'm pushy when I know what I want. I was the one who seduced you the first time we slept together. Before that I wasn't all innocent either, but that night I wanted more. You tried your best to hold back, you really did, but just like in the kitchen, I begged you. I wanted that connection between us.”

  I laced my fingers together and stretched them high above my head, arching my chest into the air.

  “Except earlier had nothing to do with connection. It had everything to do with me being horny since our mind-blowing kiss last night, which became unbearable after seeing your tats this morning.”

  “Basically you were using me for my body.”

  I smiled and rolled my head to look at him. “You have a problem with that, flyboy?”

  He barked a loud laugh and met my amused gaze. “The fuck? That's what they say to air force pilots.”

  My smile widened. “Oh well, I'm using it now. So, flyboy, you have a problem with me using your body?”

  With a groan of frustration, he shoved off the couch and walked to the kitchen. “You want another slice?”

  “Sure. Can you grab me a glass of tea too while you're in there? Oh, and another napkin. Mine is all greasy. Maybe I should use a plate.”

  His narrowed eyes locked with mine. “I offered to get you one slice, not the whole damn kitchen.”

  Even with his snarky comment, moments later he appeared from the kitchen, laid a plate on my lap with a large slice of pizza, a new napkin tucked on the side, and set a glass filled with my molasses tea on the side table. I allowed him to settle beside me before bringing up the question that had nagged at me since he’d deflected my earlier subtle one.

  “Do you still want me to say something that will stress you out? Test this theory that remembering cured your head stuff?”

  “Definitely. Piss me the fuck off. Which I know you can do.”

  Eyes on the greasy half-eaten slice of pizza, I said, “I feel like it was way too easy for you to walk away earlier.” I picked a semi-warm pepperoni off the cheese and popped it in my open mouth. “And then when I woke up, I hoped you would be there beside me, ready to explain, but you weren't.”

  “It had nothing to do with me not wanting to spend hours kissing your naked body, believe me. But....” Summoning the courage to glance up through my lashes, I found his eyes closed. “After I saw that stupid pony you'd held on to for so long... I don't know, something shifted. The thought of being your relief lay didn’t sit right. Not when we used to be so much more than that. And now I know. I know what we were. Who you are. I'll make up the past to you. Somehow I'll make up for lost time. I promise you that. What else? Tell me something terrible that I don't know. Tell me how we ended and why you hate me.”

  Really didn't want to bring that up, but he needed to know. Maybe saying it out loud would help me heal too.

  “The scars you saw on my stomach earlier were from you.”

  A tremble started in his hands, which sent tea splashing down his wrist. Reaching across the couch, I grabbed the cup and set it on the carpet. His chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.

  “Our last day together, we were in a car wreck. I won't tell you the circumstances or anything other than the basics right now. You need to remember the details surrounding that night on your own. My airbag burst, and the chemicals inside it attached to my tight shirt. Steam from the busted radiator or engine or something like that flooded the SUV. They said the heat caused a reaction with the chemicals.” Reaching down, I rai
sed the T-shirt. His eyes flicked over my mangled stomach before focusing on the wall across from the couch. “I had third-degree burns over 60 percent of my stomach and a little on my arms, but those aren’t as noticeable anymore.”

  Chewing on my lower lip, I watched his chest heave faster and faster. The rough couch cushions brushed along my bare thighs as I adjusted to reach for him. I wrapped an arm around his broad shoulders and tried to pull him to me, but head in his hands, his posture remained stiff, unwilling to accept my comfort.

  “You were knocked unconscious, or had just passed out—”

  “Was I high? Did I cause the wreck?”

  That was precisely why I didn't want him to push the topic too far. I didn't want to tell him, hurt him, but I had to. Maybe it would heal a piece of both of us. “Yes and no. If you hadn’t been high, then maybe you wouldn't have lost control. But who knows.”

  “No wonder you resent me. I ruined your life. Hell, I almost took it.”

  The cup I pulled from the floor trembled in my hand. He had no idea the extent of my ruin from that night and what followed. But talking about it with him and seeing how distraught he was over the realization that he hurt me, the hate and resentment faded a fraction. There was still one question I needed an answer to for me to move on completely.

  “B,” I breathed. It was now or never. But he didn't respond. “B?” Instead of acknowledging me, his shoulders slumped forward and he crumbled to the side. “Brenton!”

  The forgotten cup in my hand slipped to my lap, drenching me in tea. I raced to the kitchen, soaked a somewhat clean rag in cold water, and hurried back to the unconscious man on my couch.

  Shit, he wasn’t kidding about the blacking out episodes. It happened so fast that I didn’t even know it was happening. How terrifying it must’ve been for him to have such little control over his own body.

  “B,” I whispered as I maneuvered him onto the couch, putting his head on the cushions and dangling his legs over the armrest. “Damn, you're massive. Come on, Brenton, wake up and help me move your fine ass.” Still no response, but the rapid movement behind his closed lids sent a wave of relief, calming my tight nerves. “I don't blame you.” I dabbed the cool cloth along his forehead. “I don't know if I ever really did. Everyone convinced me that you were the bad guy in it all. But were you? All they saw was the aftermath, the ugly side of who we were together, not the good. Not the two kids who gradually fell in love.”