Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “Beks.” Brenton's cautious tone pulled my gaze from the doors to his green eyes. “It's fine. I deserved that. I might’ve treated you somewhat decent, but I do remember being a shithead to everyone else.”

  “It's how you broke your nose that summer,” I quipped. “Your smart-ass mouth and cocky attitude got you in more fights than one around here.”

  “I admitted to being a shithead. Let's move on.”

  “But it's so fun helping you remember those parts.”

  He leaned against the stall and rolled his eyes. “That I remember just fine. It seems to just be you who has my memories hostage.”

  “Do you remember using Bradley as your drug connection when you and Caleb, and maybe your dad too, needed a fix?”

  The way his features hardened told me he did.

  “I have a lot of repair work to do with the people around here. Hopefully I can show them who I am without Dad's coke finger shoved up my nose. And the first person is you. Because honestly, you're the only one who matters.”

  “Me?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah, you. I need you to see the man I am now instead of holding on to the memories of who I was and what I did. While we work on my fucked-up head, I'll prove I'm not that person anymore. By the time I leave, I'll make you see I'm the man you believed I could be.”

  “Why?” I said, near breathless. “You're leaving again. Why does it matter?”

  “Because you do.”

  I swallowed back a lump of unshed tears and turned to pat the golden gelding in the next stall. Desperate to turn the heavy conversation, I shoved Brenton's shoulder and stepped out of the stall.

  “Come on, fancy pants. Let’s go on this 'tour' you ordered.”

  At my back, his low growl had the corners of my lips tilting up.

  “These are fucking Wranglers. Stop it with the damn ‘fancy pants.’”

  “Wranglers with the tag still on 'em.”

  My deep, delighted laugh rattled through the open barn at his scowl before stopping to inspect his ass.

  “There isn't... oh, you're going to get it.”

  I shot a wink over my shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”

  NEAR THE BACKSIDE OF the five-thousand-acre ranch, we spotted one of the longhorn herds grazing in the distance. We agreed a quick diversion was needed and pulled under a mesquite tree to watch the massive beasts for a while.

  “Why vet school?” Brenton asked between long swigs from the Gatorade I’d packed us from the stocked fridge in the barn.

  I shrugged and tossed my empty plastic bottle into the back bed. As I pulled my SIG from the dash, I said, “Guess I thought it would be the easiest transition, you know.” Standing, I slid the holster on my hip and turned back to the cows. “I wouldn't know a thing about the corporate world, so business was out, and there wasn't anything else that drew my attention. I did well in my animal science classes, so I just went with it. That and....” I shoved off the John Deer Gator and looked back at him.

  Attention fixed on me, he furrowed those dark brows. “And what?”

  “I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. Maybe even try to make Daddy proud of me for something. What can I say, I'm a girl with daddy issues.”

  After a few steps, he fell into stride beside me. “I have a buddy in Kentucky who has 'daddy issues' radar. I swear that bastard can walk into any bar and pinpoint the girl who would go home with him that night.”

  “That's some superpower. You ever used him to find you a one-nighter?”

  “Not answering that one.”

  “That's a yes. Watch for snakes,” I said as I scoured the uneven ground. “Wish you would've brought a gun.”

  “I did,” he said, like I’d somehow offended him.

  I stopped mid-step and gripped the hem of his black dry-fit T-shirt. After an exaggerated look around his bare waist, I met his confused gaze. “And where is this mystery gun?”

  “My boot.”

  “That's stupid.”

  He tossed his hands in the air. “And why the hell is that?”

  “What will you do, tell the snake to hold on a second while you lift your pant leg, dip down into your boot, and pull the damn thing out? You'll have a hundred bites by the time you're ready to defend yourself.”

  Long, dark lashes fanned down to his cheeks with several considering blinks. “Touché.” He reached down to draw up his pant leg and retrieve the gun.

  Not letting the opportunity pass by, I cocked my head for a better angle of his ass while he readjusted his jeans around the boot.

  “I thought I asked you to wear long sleeves,” I mused, my eyes still trained on his firm, round backside. Damn, it truly was delicious. “You have an edible ass, you know that?”

  Still bent over, he looked up with an arched brow. “Thanks? And I'd die of heat exhaustion out here in long sleeves. You trying to kill me?”

  “Not before I use you for your body.”

  “Wow.” He stood and tucked the gun into his waistband.

  “What?”

  “You're....”

  “Honest?”

  “Blunt.”

  “Same thing. Why not put it all out there?”

  The herd didn't pay us any attention as we approached with caution. These beasts were beautiful—deadly massive, but beautiful—and you had to remind yourself of the dangerous part when you’d grown up around them your whole life. The soft nose of one of the older heifers nuzzled my hip, nearly toppling me over in a not-so-subtle request for me to pet her.

  “What?” I asked after catching Brenton staring.

  “I have something to ask you.”

  Resting my forehead against the coarse hair of the cow's neck, I sighed. “What?”

  He massaged the back of his neck with a tight grip and eyes to the grass. “I have a few memories of women with me at my loft in Dallas. I don’t remember when they are, as in time frame, but I do know it happened.”

  “Okay....”

  “The thing is, I can’t tell if it was during the time we were together or not. Was I that much of a shithead that I’d cheat on you?”

  With a smirk, I peered over the tall cow’s back. “No, B. I knew about the other women, but that was before we slept together. After that point, you said you didn’t want to be with anyone else. But....”

  “But what?”

  I shrugged and continued to move through the cows with Brenton a few steps behind. “I never asked what you did when you weren’t with me. When we took that step to sleeping together, I was seventeen and over six hours away. You were almost twenty-one, living a completely different lifestyle in college. I loved you, yes, but I wasn't under any pretenses of who you were in Dallas. Here you were mine, and there you were theirs.”

  “That's shitty.”

  “That was the fucked-up, complex shitshow we were.”

  Hands on his hips, he looked up with a pain-laced grimace. “I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse. How in the hell did you put up with my shit? Me saying I loved you but still sleeping around sounds like a pathetic excuse for a man.”

  “Boy. You were a boy. I was a girl who fell in love with you before you ever even noticed me. I was your dealer's little sister, the help. If it makes you feel better, you told me, a lot, that you didn't deserve a friend like me, someone who believed in you as wholeheartedly as I did.”

  “Fuck,” he yelled as he dodged a massive horn.

  “Don't yell at them,” I admonished with a grin.

  “He—” Bending below my line of sight, he stood a second later. “She, sorry, almost took off my head. They should pick on someone their own size, like a damn elephant.”

  “Well, maybe you should be more careful.”

  “How many do we have now in the entire herd?”

  “Seven, eight hundred, I think? Not sure really, but it's grown over the past couple of years. Your grandfather stopped wanting to sell the babies.” I shook my head and smiled at the cow in front of me. “He
became softhearted toward the end.”

  “He was a good man,” Brenton said so softly I almost didn't hear it over the quick burst of wind.

  “He was.”

  “I noticed on the ride that most of the wells weren't active. Are they dry?”

  “Nah, I don't think your place will ever be dry. They stop pumping when the price of oil drops below a certain dollar amount. When it jumps again, you'll see all of them moving.”

  Still smiling, I ran a hand down the cow's spine and moved deeper into the herd. Oil was how the Graves family made their fortune a generation or so back, and just like old oil money did, they kept getting richer and richer as the demand for it continued to rise. I didn't begrudge the family for it; this place was theirs, mineral rights and all. The story was Brenton's great-great-great-great-great-grandfather claimed it all those years ago when the land was still a part of Mexico.

  A streak of something dark down the hind leg of a cow snagged my attention. Weaving between the massive beasts and their horns, I placed a comforting palm on the ribs of the injured female.

  Careful to stay out of her kicking range, I inspected the wound. I angled my head side to side, the bright sunlight providing the perfect illumination to see four long, straight gashes down her hindquarters. The blood had turned dark and dry, signaling the wound was at least a day old. Only a few areas oozed clear fluid at that point.

  From the looks of it, stitches weren't required, but she did need it cleaned and maybe a shot of antibiotics to ward off infection. Beside her, a baby calf considered me before dipping his head beneath her belly for a drink. My gaze stayed on the suckling calf. After as many births I'd helped with since graduation, you'd think I'd be over the mixed emotion. Which I was, I guess, with the birthing part, but watching the baby nurse, the natural beauty of a mom taking care of her offspring, opened an old, deep wound of my own.

  “Everything okay?” Brenton asked from a few steps behind me.

  I shook my head to dislodge my regretful thoughts. “She's hurt,” I said over my shoulder. “From the looks of the claw marks, her gashes are from a big cat. I'd say a bobcat, but could be a cougar. I've heard reports of a few in the area. I bet she was protecting her little guy.”

  After a soft, loving pat down her side, I began searching for other injuries in the massive herd. A few looked like they’d battled with some barbed wire, but there was nothing like the gashes on the other, which solidified my initial thought of the momma protecting the only calf of the group. Through my inspection, I noted a few pregnant heifers, which meant new future prey for the unknown predator.

  Someone had to stop the killer before those ladies gave birth.

  Pausing in an ample open space, I wiped a layer of sweat from my forehead and lip with the hem of my shirt. Even with it being dry-fit, I'd sweated through the back. The heat index had to be over a hundred degrees even so late in the afternoon. I should’ve pushed back when Brenton suggested coming out, told him we'd do it tomorrow before the afternoon heat had a chance to turn the land into Hell's living room.

  A loud, close rattle drew my attention to the ground.

  And that was when I saw it—them—sending a bolt of pure fear straight to my core.

  Chapter 12

  Rebeka

  FOUR LARGE DEVIL SPAWNS stared their evil beady eyes up from their perfect striking poses.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Shit.

  Two were well within striking distance while the others were far enough away that I didn't have to worry about them unless they were some snake gang and had planned an organized attack. Which I wouldn't put past them. They probably knew I was the girl who’d enjoyed using their family members as target practice growing up.

  Close by, Brenton shouted, “What are you doing?”

  “Trying not to hyperventilate and die. How about you?” His footsteps sounded closer and closer. “Stay where you are,” I said, pure panic in my tone.

  Breaking the staring contest with the closest rattlesnake, I glanced up to Brenton's confused face.

  “Four rattlers. Two are close, too damn close. I think I peed my pants a little,” I whined. I wasn't proud of it—the peeing of my pants or the whining—but I was scared. Terrified, really. Snakes were enemy number one in my book. Plus, I was running rogue these days without health insurance and couldn't afford a trip to the emergency room for antivenom.

  “And you were just reaming my ass about watching where I walked.”

  “If I live through this, I will punch you in the balls for the jackass timing of that comment.”

  His chuckle inched up my nervous anger.

  “This isn't fucking funny. I’m going to die a slow miserable death, and you’re fucking laughing.”

  His loud laugh reached my ears as he walked into the small clearing. At my back, Brenton wrapped his hands around my waist. I tensed at the contact, which made the snakes rise higher.

  “It's okay, Beks. You're fine.”

  “Shoot. Them.”

  “I'd prefer not to get trampled to death. I didn't survive multiple deployments to die out here.”

  Dammit, he was right. But still, they were snakes, live ones that needed to be vanquished.

  At first I fought his slight pull urging me back, but then I gave in to the comfort of his protective grip and calm, soothing orders.

  “Easy. Slow steps, okay? Right foot. Good. Left foot. Now pause.” There was no way he couldn't feel the way my entire body trembled in fear. “Beks, come on. You're fine. I'm here, and I won't let anything bad happen to you, okay?” Two more steps back. “If the snake does get to you, I'll suck the venom out.” Another step back and my shoulders dropped from their high perch by my ears. “Is it bad to hope they bite you in the pussy so I can have a reason to suck on that for a while?”

  And just like that the fear drained, sending my blood pumping fast and hot for an entirely different reason.

  “You don't need a snake bite for that, B. All you have to do is ask.” His hands still on my waist, we ducked and weaved as one between the longhorns. “But before you ask, let me shower. I wasn't kidding about me peeing my pants.”

  Fine lines burst from the corners of his eyes with his broad smile. “Deal.”

  Over the next hour, we drove through the remainder of the beautiful property, checking out a few areas even I hadn't seen since I was a kid. A few times he’d point to something and ask about a memory, wondering if it was true, which would launch me into a story about us. It was perfect with the brilliant sunset off the horizon that painted bright colors across the open sky. But then again, it was always perfect when it was only us two. It wasn't until other people got involved that everything went to shit all those years ago.

  A dark SUV pulled away from the barn as we grew close. With my brows raised at the unfamiliar car, I shot a quick, concerned glance to Brenton. He merely shrugged and went back to watching the sunset. Even though he thought nothing of the incident, a slight uneasy feeling developed in my gut.

  The sensation worsened as we eased into the barn and parked in the spot reserved for the Gator. I shut off the engine and paused. Not sensing the same thing, Brenton slid off the bench seat and stretched out his stiff back, turning when I didn't follow. He gripped the roof to lean into the cab, momentarily distracting me with his inked, flexing biceps and spread muscled chest.

  “You coming?”

  “Yeah. Hey, I want to get that damn cat before the other calves are born. I might go out tonight to see if I can get it myself. Wanna come with since we didn't work on your head stuff today at all?”

  “Sounds like a party. We staying out all night?”

  “Depends on the kitty, I guess. I'll pack enough food and drinks in case it turns into a long hunt. I'll double-check the weather too; I noticed a few thunderheads a ways west.” After a glance at my watch, I looked back at him expectantly. “Let's head out after dinner. Two hours from now?”

  He nodded but didn't make to move.

>   “What's wrong with you?” he asked with a single arched dark brow. “Something’s off.”

  “Something’s off in general. I don't know—”

  My name said in a deep, painful moan cut me off. Both our heads whipped in the direction of the sound. In sync, we withdrew our guns and walked toward the other end of the barn with near-silent steps.

  Another agony-laced groan tugged at my gnawing gut. I licked my dry lips and glanced to Brenton, whose intense focus was on the closed tack room door.

  My sweaty, unsteady hand gripped the metal handle as I again regarded Brenton, hoping for direction. In response, he raised his gun, stepped forward with a confidence I didn’t have at the moment, and nodded.

  After a deep, steadying breath in, I jerked the door wide open. Brenton moved through first, gun at the ready.

  “Bradley?” he said once inside.

  My held breath whooshed from my lungs. I holstered the pistol as I stepped around Brenton and fell to my knees beside my barely recognizable brother.

  “Bradley?” I whispered, raising a hand to touch his bloody and bruised face, but pausing inches from his cheek. “I need a clean rag,” I demanded to the looming presence at my back. “No, wait. We need to get him out of here.”

  I shoved off the stained concrete floor in search of a cart of some kind, only to have Brenton shoulder around me. In one smooth motion, he squatted beside the still-moaning Bradley, slid his arms beneath his shoulders, and set him up to adjust his grip. Snapping out of my daze, I bent down to help him pull Bradley up to a somewhat standing position, but my brother collapsed in our grasp. I tucked my shoulder under one armpit before he could fall face-first to the ground while Brenton did the same on the other side.

  Each short step we dragged him sent Bradley's limp head lolling from side to side.

  “Any idea what happened?” Brenton asked almost halfway to the house. By the way he kept leading our trio and his steady, even breaths as he talked, Brenton wasn't as taxed by hauling a grown-ass man as I was.