Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “It's the question I've been asking for thirteen years. Why?” I choked out, then downed what was left of the bottle in my hand.

  “The fact that I have zero memory, not even a damn hint of what you're talking about when everything else is coming back to me, makes me believe I had nothing to do with it. I'll find out the truth. I'll prove it to you, Beks.” Looking down to the table, he took a deep swallow. “I know I have no right to ask, but I have to know. What happened to our baby?”

  The world spun. I slammed my eyes shut and leaned back to regain my equilibrium.

  Our baby.

  Hearing that phrase from his lips, his voice, was too much. My shoulders trembled with every short breath between sobs. A quiet commotion went on in front of me before the pressure from the seat belt disappeared and I was hauled onto his wide, solid lap. Unable to look at him, I buried my face in his hot neck and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him closer.

  Even the soothing swipes of his hand down my hair did nothing to ease the pain. My still-raw heart had sliced back open at those two words.

  Our baby.

  Yeah, our baby.

  The chin resting on the crown of my head trembled. Pulling back far enough to look up, I found his eyes sealed shut. A single tear dripped slowly down his tan, scruffy cheek. His pain at the memories, at the raw gash I knew was across his heart like it had once been on me, had me pressing a palm against his cheek, pushing the other against my own.

  “You can't even say it, can you?” he choked out. “I killed... it's my fault.” His broad shoulders shook in what seemed to be restrained anger or sadness.

  “It's not your fault, B.” I turned my face to press my lips to his trembling ones. “It was an accident. You didn't make the animal run out into the road. You didn't plan on being in Odessa, saving your underage pregnant girlfriend. Nothing that night was anyone’s fault. It was just a tragic event that tore us apart for thirteen years.”

  Brenton's breaths turned rapid against my skin.

  “Brenton, breathe.”

  “It's my fault. Everything about that night and after was my fault. I ruined your life and took another.” He buried his head into my neck and squeezed his arms tighter around me. “Beks, I can't breathe. This hurts worse than when Caleb died. I left you alone with all that. I left you alone to deal with it all.”

  “Stop,” I said soothingly. “It's done.”

  Internally I was begging him to stop. I couldn't go down that path again. I'd been down it too many times, though less frequently in the last few years, but I couldn't look back now. I was almost whole, mostly due to the man breaking beneath me.

  Yes, he might’ve ruined my life thirteen years ago, but right now he was saving it.

  “Nothing we can do about it now. I hurt over this for years, and honestly, I don't want to relive that pain. It still hurts, but never once—not once, Brenton—did I blame you for me losing the baby.”

  “Our baby.”

  My bottom lip quivered. “Our baby.”

  “How old... I mean, how far along were you?”

  “Six weeks.”

  Warm, salt-slick lips pressed against my own, and I moaned at the desperation that leached through the kiss. An unknown urgency had him devouring me, licking and teasing my tongue with his own. He needed this, needed me, needed control, and at that moment I'd allow him to have it if that was what he needed.

  “I'm so sorry,” he whispered against my lips before sealing them back over mine.

  Breathless from pouring all of him into all of me, he pulled back and pressed his forehead against my own. “I don't deserve your forgiveness. I deserve your hate and resentment for what I did to you. Hate me, Beks. Please, please hate me.”

  “What?” I asked, staring at his dark lashes.

  “Hate me. Hit me. Tell me to fuck off and what a hateful, terrible bastard I am. Because that's what I am. Who I am. These past thirteen years, I've lived a damn lie thinking I was better than my father, and look at me. I forgot the woman I loved, nearly killed her, and killed our unborn child. I'm a worthless human being, and that's what I deserve to be seen as by you.”

  Chapter 21

  Rebeka

  NOT SURE HOW TO RESPOND to a plea like that, I tugged his head to my chest and hugged him tighter than he held me. Hate him? He couldn't be serious. He didn't understand what love was or how it worked if he thought I could ever hate him or put him in the same category as his father.

  Silence encased the cabin the remainder of the flight as we stayed sealed together. Both of us held on to the other as if our lives depended on it. Who knew, maybe they did.

  Even after we touched down, his embrace didn't loosen. The pilot and copilot stepped out, their eyes meeting mine before descending the short stairs.

  “Hey,” I whispered as I stroked through his dark hair and ran my nails down the back of his neck. “It's time to blow this joint. You're leading this adventure, remember? So where are we going? What happens next?”

  Cool air brushed the areas where his skin had suctioned against mine. Pure agony swirled behind his dull green eyes while streaks of red lined the whites of his eyes, evidence of his silent tears.

  After clearing his throat, he glanced out the window. “I can make them turn around if you don't want to stay.”

  “Huh?”

  “To stay with me.”

  The uncertainty in his tone squeezed my heart. “Of course I do, B. Maybe I should ask you the same question. I've had thirteen years to process all this, but you've had less than an hour. If you'd prefer we go back and—”

  “No.” He straightened and rolled his shoulders back. “Here I don't have to share you with anyone or do manual labor to spend some time with you.” I bumped my shoulder against his and gave him a shy smile. “Today is about you, remember? I want to stay if you do.”

  “Well, if you're buying, I'm all in for a 'me' day. Let's go, Sir Fancy Pants. Show me this terrible town of yours.”

  “Pretty sure Dallas is a city. A metroplex actually.”

  “You don't deny terrible?”

  “I somewhat agree, but I don't think I've seen the good parts.”

  I turned before taking the first step down the stairs with a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

  “The circles my family ran with back then, Caleb and I especially, weren't filled with the best types of people. We were used and leached from for years. Those people didn't give a fuck about us.” At the bottom of the stairs, he pressed his hand against my lower back to guide me toward a small side parking lot. “What I mean is I bet there is good in this city, but I've never been fortunate enough to see it.”

  After tossing our overnight bags into the back of a black Range Rover, Brenton opened the passenger door like a gentleman and helped me in. The inside was as sleek as the outside; the dash looked like you could control the Rover on Mars with a simple flick of the fingers.

  I leaned back and rolled my head to look at Brenton, who still stood in the open door.

  “How does it work?” I asked.

  “What work?”

  “Your money? Do you have access to drop millions any time you want?”

  He chuckled and leaned against the solid metal of the SUV. “No, it's set up as a trust. Caleb, me, Dad, even Pappy had one from his father. More money goes into the trust each year based on how the company did, but still every month I get a... let's call it a monthly allowance deposited into my bank account.”

  “Ah,” I said like I understood, but I didn't.

  “If I went to the firm who manages our trust and asked for a certain amount, let's say for school or something, they would pull the amount I requested from the trust.”

  “So you have money, but you don't.”

  “Oh no, I have a lot of it.”

  “Are you what they consider the 1 percent?”

  Again he laughed before leaning in and kissing my forehead. “Sure, baby.”

  “I like that.” I sighe
d and closed my eyes. “‘Beks’ makes me feel like we're kids again.”

  When I opened my eyes, he was staring down at me with an unreadable expression.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What was said on the plane—”

  “I don't want to talk about it anymore. Can we please—” I looked out the windshield, hoping to find my next words. “—table it? I want to enjoy whatever you have planned, and remembering that time, dredging up those awful feelings and memories, isn't something I want dampening it.”

  The knuckles gripping the door turned white, but he didn't object. “I still have a lot of questions, about that night, about what happened next, so this conversation isn't over. You're not letting me off that easy.”

  The door slammed shut with a solid thud. I tracked Brenton as he rounded the hood, sliding his sunglass on as he walked. Hot damn, the man was so far out of my league. Back then and now. His tan skin, dark hair, and gorgeous eyes—oh, and that body. It made him the man every woman’s erotic fantasy centered around. And I loved all that, loved every physical inch, but what I adored most were the pieces of himself he only showed me. That soft, emotional heart he hid beneath the gruff, arrogant, controlling exterior.

  Which I also happened to love.

  All the cards were on the table now. He knew everything about that night that I knew, and it was fucking freeing. A weight I'd carried the past few days—hell, the past thirteen years—lifted from my shoulders. Just like Ryder said, I needed closure to let go of that night and the events that followed. Being with him, helping him with his blackouts the past few days, had given me exactly that.

  I hated that I was getting closure on an old wound when his agony was beginning. Our conversation on the plane had ripped open an old wound he wasn’t even aware he’d had until today.

  But he would recover just as I did. Brenton and I, we were survivors. And survivors moved on from the hurt, not allowing their pasts to define who they were and rob them of a happy, fulfilling future.

  Sky-high apartment buildings towered overhead as Brenton zipped through the busy downtown city streets. Older homes lined one side of the road while the other had small businesses of varying types. As he drove, I studied the variety of people crowding along the wide sidewalks. I never wanted to live in a big city like Dallas, but visiting, playing the role for a couple of hours, was entertaining for sure.

  “You hungry?” Brenton asked, breaking my focus with a heavy, warm hand squeezing my inner upper thigh.

  With a broad smile, I turned and said, “Starving. Anywhere around here we can get pancakes?”

  “GO AWAY,” I MUTTERED into the comforter beneath my cheek.

  Brenton responded with a deep, amused chuckle. “You have to get up if you don't want to spoil my plans for you.”

  “What plans?” I grumbled, opening one eye to see if he was serious. The pancakes, eggs, and never-ending mimosas at brunch had me in a food coma. Napping away the afternoon with him by my side sounded way better than anything he could suggest.

  “I made you some spa—”

  “Thank you, but no. Nap.”

  The walls seemed to vibrate with his deep, rolling laugh, which made me smile against the soft duvet.

  “There was also some shopping involved,” he mused, like he thought that would convince me to leap off the comfortable bed. He didn't know women as well as he thought. Like I'd go try on clothes with my brunch food baby in my belly that already made my comfortable Wranglers snug around the waist.

  “No. Bed.”

  “You're turning down spending my money to lie in bed.”

  The soft material slid against my cheek as I nodded. “With you. Isn't there a game or something sporty on SportsCenter you can watch while I snuggle you and sleep off this buzz?”

  “Now that I can do.” The rustling of clothes drew my attention to where he stood on the opposite side of the bed. Green eyes sparkled when he caught me watching. “I like you watching me with that lusty look.”

  A shiver bolted down my spine at his low, seductive tone.

  “Well, I like watching when it's someone as sexy as you, Sir Fancy Pants.”

  “If you keep looking at me like that, baby, then that nap you hoped for won’t happen. Your choice.”

  Even though I did crave his sexy-as-sin body against mine, the champagne made my eyes heavier with each passing second. After a shake of my head to dislodge all the naughty thoughts he invoked, I rolled to my back and pulled my jeans to my ankles.

  When they hit the floor, I glanced to where he stood and smirked at his scorching stare at my naked lower half. “You're the one who didn't pack my underwear.” On all fours, I crawled up the bed, bare ass in the air facing him. I reached the top of the comforter, readying to pull it back to snuggle under it when a stinging smack whipped across the right cheek.

  Instead of screaming in pain, I buried my face in the mountain of pillows and moaned, keeping my ass in the air, hoping for more.

  “Baby,” he growled.

  “Hmm?”

  “You chose nap, not sex, so get that perfect ass of yours under the covers.”

  “But you're so convincing,” I said with a little wiggle, silently begging him for more. “Again, B.”

  His loud, guttural groan rattled through the room just before a palm smacked the same spot as before. My eyes slammed shut, and an unladylike, garbled moan pushed past my lips into the pillow.

  Beneath me, the bed dipped and the mattress shifted. That time, instead of inflicting delicious pain, his callused hands reverently caressed down each cheek. My ass molded in his hands as he squeezed each side with a pleasure-filled moan of his own.

  My breath caught at the slide of a hand dipping between my thighs.

  “Hell,” he muttered, his lips brushing against the small of my back. “You loved it, didn't you.” To prove his statement, two fingers slid easily inside.

  “Yes,” I pleaded into the pillow. A half yelp, half sigh escaped at the twist and curl of his fingers. “Fuck the nap.”

  At my encouragement, his pace quickened, teasing me to the brink with his two dexterous digits. Soft kisses and not-so-tender nips dotted along each cheek. The pressure built, producing a sheen of sweat that moistened my skin. When I couldn't take any more, he flicked his thumb hard against my swollen clit. On their own, my hips slammed back against his hand and my legs quivered, barely keeping me upright through the force of my release.

  Eyes closed, face still buried in the pillow and ass in the air, a slight pressure against my inside knees caught my attention. Obeying, I slid them along the comforter, spreading my legs wide.

  “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” he asked while stroking a loving hand down my right ass cheek before seizing a handful of plump flesh. “The sounds you make when you come are almost enough to do me in, baby.” The hand not gripping me slid up my back to tangle in my hair, holding my face to the bed. “My turn.”

  Without warning, he slammed in, sinking deep with the first thrust.

  “Fuck me,” he gritted out.

  Inch by inch he withdrew, only to thrust back in just as deep as before. Again and again he pushed, chasing his release. Echoes of our skin slapping together filled the large room. An open-palmed smack against my ass pulled a startled yet desire-filled yell from my lungs.

  “More,” I pleaded, shoving back for emphasis.

  Everything stilled.

  Brenton's heavy, deep pants were the only sound in the room.

  “Brenton,” I begged. I attempted to wiggle to urge him on but was only rewarded with another stinging smack.

  “Say it,” he commanded. “Say what you want.”

  “More. More of you. More of that,” I pleaded.

  “Of what?” he said in an arrogant tone.

  The bastard knew full well what I wanted.

  “Spanking, your hand against my ass, all of it. I need more, B,” I cried into the pillow. “Please.”

  Sweat-slick skin p
ressed against my back, hot breath brushing across my ear. “We're not perfect, baby, but we're fucking perfect for each other.”

  Both hands dipped to hold my breasts like anchors. He teased and pulled at my tight nipples while he pushed from behind faster and deeper.

  “Again, baby,” he grunted.

  “Please, Brenton,” I yelled. Every thought, every sensation focused on him. Each place he touched sparked a fire and added to the building heat between my legs. On the edge, I needed a push to find release. “Again,” I whispered, almost like a prayer.

  At my request, he leaned back, still pumping hard, and smacked each cheek.

  “Holy shit!” I screamed and fell apart beneath him.

  Brenton shouted my name along with a few curses before falling onto my back and pushing us down into the soft bed.

  My hair tickled over my shoulder as it was swept aside, Brenton pressing light kisses along it and up my neck. He sucked my earlobe between his lips, sending a bolt of lingering arousal through my veins.

  “You might be the death of me,” he murmured before kissing back down my neck. “How will I ever focus on anything other than you again?”

  “Don't,” I sighed, eyes still closed, savoring the moment. “I like being your only focus. Don't go back. Then we can do this every day.”

  A soft laugh brushed over my shoulder. “It doesn't work that way with the military. They call that going AWOL.” And just like that, the cherished moment ended, and the reality of our situation washed over me like a bucket of cold water. “But if there were ever a reason to abandon my post and brothers, it'd be you.”

  “So you are going back.”

  Cold air replaced where his hot skin had once been. A hand held my shoulder to roll me until I faced him.

  “We talked about this. You know I am. You're amazing, we're amazing, but I still have to go back. I have a job to do, people depending on me. I'm good at what I do.”