Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  I took the faint moan that pushed past his soft, parted lips as a sign to keep going.

  “What you remember me telling you about Daddy only got worse after the accident. The obvious disappointment and never living up to his standards when I did everything I could to make him proud. Getting that money and going to college saved me. I finished high school soon after the accident and bolted. I made friends who didn't know about my past, I dated, partied like every kid should when released from the clutches of their parents, but everywhere I went, you were there with me.”

  The rag slipped from my hand and fell to the floor with a soft thump. I traced the edges of his lips with the tips of my fingers, savoring each warm breath that brushed against them. With each pass, I inched my own lips closer and closer, needing to feel their softness against mine.

  “Did you do it, Brenton? Did you choose your money over me? Or am I a fool of a woman, hoping for thirteen years that it was some misunderstanding, that someone talked you into it? I know you loved me and wouldn't have left us like that.” I was so close that his breath warmed my cheek. My hands slid to hold his jaw, my lips hovering over his.

  “I might hate you, Brenton,” I whispered with my eyes closed, “but I love you more. I never stopped loving you, and maybe it's time I did. Then we can both move forward. I can move on.”

  Saying the words out loud sent a pang of heartache to clench my sad heart, but something else settled too. As difficult as it was, I pulled away from his paled face and picked up the cloth from the floor.

  Minutes later, his green eyes fluttered open and fixed on me.

  “I forgive you,” I said with a teary smile. “For everything that happened. I'm sorry I held on to it for as long as I did, but I'm not anymore. I'm finally free from the constant anger and grief. Now that you remember, hopefully you can let go too.”

  He cupped my cheek and pulled my face to his chest. Tears spilled down my cheeks, leaving damp drops along his T-shirt. Needing to be closer, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed until little air could fill my lungs.

  Closure.

  After thirteen years, I finally had it.

  But which was worse: resenting him, or the loneliness that crept into the empty cavern in my heart left by the fading anger?

  HOW IN THE HELL WOULD I explain the brand-new fantastic truck when we got back?

  Daddy and Bradley would put me through rounds of interrogation the moment we pulled up. Who knew what they would say.

  Not that I cared, of course. I was a grown woman, dammit.

  Shit. And there was the issue of how to pull up in the new truck and get Brenton out unnoticed. He hadn't said a word since we left the apartment over half an hour ago. Who knew what was going on in that mind of his. Our earlier talk obviously gave him a lot to think over.

  I flipped the blinker on to turn down our county road. Each tick of the signal in the silent cab increased my already rapid heart rate.

  “I should just let him out here,” I mumbled to myself. “Or give him the truck and I can walk.” Nervous energy had me giggling at the thought. “I could die before I got there from heat exhaustion, but hey, it would solve my problem—”

  “I'm sitting right here you know. Listening.”

  I slowed the truck to a stop and watched out the window as the dust from the road floated ahead of us in a big brown cloud. “I know, but this is my problem, not yours.”

  “What's the issue? Your dad? Brother?”

  “Everyone,” I said, still staring out the side window, pondering my options.

  “I don't get it. Explain.”

  With a deep breath in, I shifted the truck into Park and swiveled in the brown leather seat to face him. “After the wreck, you had me sign something saying I wouldn't talk to you again, wouldn't seek you out, wouldn't sue the family. In return, you paid for my medical bills and a lump sum of $150,000.”

  “That's it?” He huffed a laugh and leaned against the door. “What a fucking cheap ass. I nearly kill you and offer up a hundred grand. No wonder you hate me.”

  “Yeah, completely about the money, jackass. Anyway, if I break the agreement, if people see us, then I'm scared I'll be forced to pay it back. And I can't.” Reaching up, I tucked my unruly hair behind each ear. “I used it for school, all of it. Books, housing, classes, expenses. It ran out before I finished veterinary school, so I have a ton of student loans I'm still paying back. No way could I afford to pay that money back if I had to—”

  “Fine.”

  “What?”

  “Consider part of our new agreement that you’ll help me, not caring who sees, and if it becomes an issue due to that old agreement, I'll pay what you owe.”

  “You already gave me the truck, which was too much anyway—”

  “Why are you fighting me on this?” Brenton leaned forward to rest his elbow on the center console. “It's just money.”

  “Because I work for what I have. It's not much, but what I have is mine. Sometimes I feel... indebted to your family because of the money I took. It felt dirty.”

  Instead of responding, he leaned back in the seat, felt around the pocket of his shorts, and pulled out his phone. After pressing a few numbers, he held it to his left ear.

  I opened my mouth to ask who he was calling but was hushed by a pointed look and a shake of his head.

  “Landon. Graves. I need you to look into something for me. Thirteen years ago, I supposedly had the firm write up an agreement to keep a Rebeka Harding away from me. Locate it and email it to me. I want scans of the original documents, Landon. Make it happen.”

  The phone clattered into the cup holder between us. Mouth still gaping, I looked from the phone back to him.

  “Now that's taken care of. I'll get to the bottom of it, but don't worry about the money or legal piece.”

  A weight I hadn't realized I'd been carrying around lifted. Gone. What felt like a great debt to his family washed away by a few words from Brenton.

  Locked on those gorgeous, sparkling green eyes, I said, “But what if you remember why you created it in the first place?”

  “Anything else I should know about that night?”

  I forced my eyes not to show my deception and kept my breathing even. “No.”

  “Then we're good.”

  Unease at my lie roiled my stomach, making nausea bubble up my throat. It didn't matter. He wouldn't remember why we were in the car and where we were going. Right?

  “Beks,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “What else? Any other reason why you don't want people to see us together?”

  My shoulders rose and fell in an exaggerated shrug as I concentrated on a seam along the leather seat.

  “Good, because I'm holding you to helping me the next few days, and I don't give a fuck who sees us.”

  “Brenton—”

  “And another thing. I accept what you said back in the apartment about you letting go of the anger and resentment. Fine, do what you need to do, but you're not moving on from me.”

  The confidence in his tone, the arrogance, willed my narrowed eyes up to meet his. “Is that so.”

  “You can let go of the Brenton you fell in love with years ago. I'll allow that.”

  “You'll allow it,” I said through clenched teeth. “Who in the hell do you think you are?”

  “The man who won't fuck up the only good thing in his life again. Once we get back, I'll change, then meet you in the barn. You're taking me on a personal reacquainting tour around the ranch this afternoon.”

  “Bastard. You're not even going to ask?”

  An arrogant, cocky smile pulled at his full lips. Leaning back in his seat, he rubbed both hands down the soft leather. “Man, this is a nice truck, isn't it, Beks?” The pointed look he shot over left no room for questioning what he was alluding to.

  I tightened my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. “Rotten bastard. You bought me this truck. I didn't ask for it.”

  “It's called leverag
e. If you want to win around me, better gain some. Quick.”

  Chapter 10

  Brenton

  I WASN'T ALWAYS AN asshole.

  Fuck.

  Maybe I was. The truck was a gift, not fucking leverage. But with her feisty mouth, she backed me into a corner, and I said what was needed to get out of it. If she didn't bend to my bossy ass, I'd leverage the damn truck that she couldn't stop smiling about to make her.

  Damn, I was a dick.

  Beks barely slowed the truck to a crawl in front of the main house before shoving me out the door. Which I had to admit was fucking hilarious. Only that woman would have the balls to pull that shit with me. That side of her was why I couldn't get enough, couldn't let her walk away, not yet. Not when the memories were coming back.

  If all that made me a rotten bastard, as she called me, fine. I'm Brenton Graves, and I get what I want. And I wanted Rebeka Harding around more and more. And for some unknown reason, I needed her to love me again as she did years ago.

  Okay yeah, that made me an asshole.

  Guess I was finally living up to the family name.

  But could someone fault a man for wanting one person on this earth to love him, to make him feel needed and wanted, like only a woman in love could? The surge of protectiveness and need to provide for her was foreign but welcomed. Hell, more than appreciated, it was fucking amazing. Never had a woman pulled that type of desire from me.

  Using my teeth, I bit through the price tag on the shirt in my hands before slipping it on. Damn, the new clothes were comfortable. The jeans had room to move instead of the designer ones I had back in Dallas. Not that I wore jeans that much anymore. In Kentucky, it was all military-issued clothes around the base, and I could give two shits what I wore when I wasn't working.

  The mattress molded beneath my ass as I bent over to pull the tall boot sock on.

  What was it about her that I couldn't get enough of? The honesty, the crude mouth of hers, or the feeling of belonging and peace that settled in me every time she was around?

  All I knew was I never wanted to feel the gut punch she’d landed this morning again. How could I forget nearly killing her? She said I was high, so it would make sense, but why was I in Odessa, and why was she in the car? There were still a lot of unknowns, and clearly she wasn't willing to help me remember. Who could blame her? No one would want to relive the moment they almost died and then were tossed aside by the man she loved and who she thought loved her.

  One boot on, I stretched across the bed for the phone on the nightstand.

  Damn, nothing from Landon.

  I needed to see the document. Maybe reviewing the wording would help me remember why I signed it or confirm what I was almost sure of—that I didn't agree to or sign shit. The low dollar amount, the verbiage to stay away? That wouldn't have been me. Dad, fuck yes, but I hoped to hell I would’ve given the woman I loved more.

  Which that was clear in my memories. I did love her. But was I in love with her was the question. And how did I feel about her now? We were kids, but there was no denying the strong pull we still had for each other. Hell, every time we were together, I was fighting an internal battle to keep my hands off her.

  It didn't help that she was beautiful and somehow the sexiest woman without even trying. Her round, perky ass and curvy hips distracted me every time she moved. I'd had hot-as-sin models walk into my bedroom wearing see-through La Perla, yet somehow Beks earlier in granny panties and my too-large T-shirt had me harder than any of those women ever did.

  After slipping the other boot on, I stood and balanced from one foot to the other, testing the comfort.

  With all the uncertainty and hazy memories, there was one thing I knew for a fact.

  I wouldn't let her slip away, not until I knew what this was between us and I had all the answers about that night.

  And it might’ve made me an asshole, but I'd do whatever it took to keep her around until then.

  Chapter 11

  Rebeka

  “YOU'RE TAKING ME ON a personal reacquainting tour,” I mumbled and kicked a dried cow patty as hard as I could, sending it rolling a few feet to the right. “Asshole. Thinks he can boss me around. He's not the boss of me. I'm the boss of me.”

  The truth was I wasn't all that disappointed about the additional alone time with him. When we weren't talking about the past, when I wasn't being forced to remember, I had fun with him. A lot of fun. A few times the nasty nagging memories attempted to break through, but I pushed them away like I'd done for years now. And by the way his eyes would narrow when my mind drifted to what that wreck cost me, I knew he could see it, sense my mood shift.

  Even if my loss was a direct result of his actions that night, I couldn't hold it against him. The man didn't remember a damn thing, so how was that fair to him? That’s why I was moving on.

  Moving on from the years of hurt, resentment, and, honestly, a little bit of self-loathing. And maybe I was letting go of the old Brenton. Based off what I'd seen the past twenty-four hours, young Brenton was long gone. Past Brenton was who left me lying in a hospital bed with nothing more than a few hurtful words from his father and a twenty-page legal document. The old Brenton chose his trust over us when ordered to make a choice.

  This new and improved Brenton was stronger, sober, and intimidating as hell. Mix the new Brenton with the somewhat warm coals of feelings from the past and... well, I needed to keep my head on straight with him.

  The guys I dated in school and the few after weren't like him—and not just compared to his ungodly good looks. It was his confidence, which drove me just as batshit crazy as it turned me on. The way he held a look longer than what was comfortable, or how he demanded things like the thought of someone not complying never crossed his mind.

  Damn the demanding earlier.

  A shiver shook my shoulders at the memory of his deep voice directing me to take off my pants before things went to shit.

  There was also the way he moved and held himself, which told everyone in the vicinity he could hold his own.

  All in all, Brenton Graves was perfect—besides being a royal asshole. Which actually made him hotter, as terrible as it was to admit.

  I sighed and picked up a tumbling piece of trash from the grass.

  We were good together back then, but with Brenton 2.0, we could be great. But he was going back to Kentucky, and I was staying here. He made that very clear.

  End of story.

  End of our story.

  “Right,” I muttered, then stormed through the wide-open doors of the barn, keeping my eyes to the ground. “Don't fall for him, you idiot woman. I bet he's terrible in bed or has some unknown STD that the doctors are still trying to cure. That's the real reason he wouldn't whip it out earlier. Gentleman, my ass.”

  “What did you just call me?” Bradley said from the other side of the stall he was cleaning.

  With a curse, I stumbled back and pressed a hand over my racing heart. “Fuck, Bradley, you scared the hell out of me. Jackass. And I wasn't talking about you. I was talking to myself.”

  His gaze darted to the open barn doors and lingered. “What are you doing out here? Figured you went back to Midland considering Dad's hateful response to you sticking around.”

  I shrugged and leaned against the wall to peer over the side. A strong whiff of sawdust, horse manure, and urine filled my nose. “Nah, just had to run and get some clothes. I'm here for a few days.” Brenton's comment on not caring who knew about our arrangement hummed in the back of my mind, but I said nothing. No need to bring it up until necessary.

  Every few seconds, Bradley glanced back to the front door.

  “You waiting for someone?” I asked.

  “Nah, just wondering when you were leaving so I can get my shit done.”

  My brows pulled together as I watched him work. All these years of him using, I came to recognize the signs when something was up, and something was definitely up.

  “Right,” I muttere
d.

  Again his gaze flicked up, but that time stayed. Craning my neck around to see what captured his attention I found Brenton marching through the doors, looking sexy as hell in his new ranch gear. Bradley probably wasn't taking in the stunning visual of pure masculinity, but I sure as hell was.

  Damn. Wranglers looked good on him. And again with the visible tats. That man would be the death of my vibrator.

  “What the hell is he doing here?” Bradley said loud enough for most of Texas to hear. “Want me to get rid of him?”

  It had been a while since the overwhelming urge to hug Bradley had hit me, but his statement drove me around the stall door for just that. I wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug and squeezed. “Thanks, but he's the reason I'm out here. He wanted a tour of the ranch since it’s been a while.”

  “Beka,” he started, still focused on Brenton. “Is that a good idea? What that fucker put you through—”

  “We're past it,” Brenton said, now on the other side of the stall. “Good to see you, Bradley.”

  It took a few shakes, but Bradley finally broke out of my tight hold to grasp Brenton's extended hand. By Bradley's wide eyes, he was shocked at the gesture.

  “No hard feelings, Mr. Graves—”

  “Brenton.”

  “No hard feelings, Mr. Graves”—I hid my smirk behind an open hand at the look of annoyance Brenton gave my brother—“but you can shove it up your ass. I hope your dad does sell the place so we can get as far from your fucked-up family as possible.”

  My smirk fell as I stood motionless, shocked at Bradley. Without breaking eye contact with Brenton, Bradley threw down the shovel he was using, shouldered past Brenton, and stormed out.