by Susan Stoker
Emily stayed home because she wasn’t feeling that great and Annie was in school, but the other five women had systematically gone through Truck’s apartment and packed all of Mary’s belongings, and even changed the sheets on the bed and put the dirty towels and linens in the washer.
Mary was thankful, because she didn’t think she would’ve been able to do it. Wouldn’t have been able to find and pack every single thing that she’d brought over in the last few months. Definitely not as quickly as her friends had.
But a small part of her was resentful. They didn’t have to move out of their houses. They didn’t have to pretend not to know their men. They didn’t have their hearts ripped out of their chests. Their men would come home and their lives would resume as normal.
She’d tried to be nice, though. The last thing she wanted was to alienate the best friends she’d ever had, but she was at the end of her rope and wanted to be alone. To wallow in her misery.
When Mary had walked through Truck’s apartment one last time before she left, she’d broken down again. It was as if she’d never existed there. Hadn’t spent the best and worst times of her life in that apartment. She felt just as devastated as she had when she was sixteen and Brian admitted he’d only said he loved her to get between her legs.
“I’m staying,” Rayne declared after the others had left.
Mary shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”
“You’re not okay,” Rayne countered. “And I don’t care what you say, I’m not leaving.”
Mary ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted to be alone. She had to go to work the next day and needed time to push everything that had happened to the back of her mind. But she knew Rayne wasn’t going to let her do that. No matter how mean she was to the other woman or what she said.
Instead of lashing out and being a bitch—she really was trying to change—Mary sighed and put her head back on the couch. She closed her eyes and after a long moment, said quietly, “Thank you.”
Rayne picked up her friend’s hand and threaded their fingers. “You’re welcome. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but too bad. We need a plan.”
Mary shook her head but didn’t open her eyes. “There’s nothing we can do. The doctor said that Truck needs time and it wouldn’t be good to try to force his memories to come back.”
“I understand that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t subtly try to get his memories to come back.”
Mary’s eyes popped open and she looked over at her best friend. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we activate Operation Make Truck Remember His Life.”
“I won’t do anything that’ll hurt him,” Mary said firmly.
“Me either. I know we can’t just go up to him and introduce you as his wife and tell him he loves you. We need to be sneakier about it.”
Despite her depression, Mary was interested. “I’m listening.”
“I talked to Ghost this morning about the situation, and he told me the doctor said it was okay to bring Truck to some of his old hangouts. The places he and the guys go to all the time. Restaurants, the gym and beach where they do PT in the mornings, bars, things like that. So when they do, we’ll just happen to be there. We won’t necessarily even talk to him, but maybe if he sees you enough, something will click and he’ll remember.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then you’re no worse off than you are right now. Look, I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and what I’m about to say in no way negates your feelings, but I’ve lost him too, Mare. We all have. We can’t have any get-togethers with the guys because he doesn’t know they’re married, and no one is going to leave him out of things. Truck can’t get to know baby Kate. He can’t be there when Emily has her baby. And poor Annie, she won’t understand why she hasn’t seen Truck around. We all want him to regain his memory because of what he means to us.”
Mary nodded. She got it. She did. Truck was well loved in their circle. But she had more to lose. The others could eventually become his friends even if he never remembered them. They could have him back. But if he didn’t remember her, and what they went through together, she knew she didn’t have a shot in hell of making him love her again. Of being his wife for real.
“I know, Raynie.”
“So you’re in? Operation Make Truck Remember is a go?”
Mary nodded. “Yeah, I’m in. I’d give up everything to have him back.”
“You’ll get him if I have anything to say about it.” Rayne held out her pinky. “Pinky swear.”
Mary rolled her eyes at her best friend, but linked her pinky to hers anyway.
“Love you, Mare.”
“Love you back, Raynie.”
“We’re gonna get through this and have our quadruple wedding.”
“I’m less concerned about the wedding at this point. I just hope to get Truck to not hate me on sight.”
“He won’t.”
Mary wished she could be as confident as her best friend.
Chapter Six
Truck used his keys to open his apartment door and stepped inside, Ghost right on his heels. The last week had been a whirlwind of flights, doctors, blood draws, and psychologist sessions. All he’d wanted to do was get home to his own bed and sleep for a week.
His head still throbbed, but not as badly as before.
The doctor had informed him that he was missing some time, but Truck wasn’t too worried. If he’d lost his entire memory, that would’ve been bad. But losing a few years wasn’t that big of a deal.
It was a bit odd to find out he was actually three years older than he’d thought, but having Ghost, Fletch, and the others there with him was a comfort. He remembered everything about them. How Ghost had a thing for brunettes, Fletch was a neat freak, Coach could complete logic puzzles faster than anyone else on the team; how Hollywood could collect at least ten phone numbers from women every time they went out, that Beatle hated bugs, and how Blade got his nickname.
It was also a bit strange to learn in the hospital in Germany that the team hadn’t been about to go on R&R and pick up chicks after completing their mission, but instead they’d been in Africa on a completely different mission, three years in the future. But he’d dealt with it then, and he could deal with it now.
Scratching the scar on his face absently, Truck looked around his apartment. Things weren’t quite where he remembered them being, but he supposed that would happen since a few years had passed.
When he’d first been told he had amnesia and was missing three years of his life, he’d laughed and accused the guys of playing a prank on him. But when not one of the men had cracked a smile, he’d realized they were serious. The doctors and the poking and prodding of his head were more proof.
The most frustrating part was that Truck knew his friends were keeping things from him. Beatle and Blade seemed to be even closer than he remembered them being, and they were constantly whispering to each other far enough away that he couldn’t hear them. Ghost was on the phone all the time, and he’d yet to get a good explanation as to why Hollywood hadn’t been on the mission with them.
Truck had liked the other Delta team. Trigger and his men were competent and had taken over getting the girls reunited with their families and, where necessary, out of the country when he’d been flown to Germany to be admitted to the Army hospital.
Ghost had told him the other team were also stationed at Fort Hood, and that they’d see them when they got back. It had been a long week, and Truck was more than happy to be out of the hospital and home.
“Welcome home, man,” Ghost said.
When Truck turned to him, his friend was looking around the space as if he’d never seen it before.
“You’ve been here,” Truck said. “Why are you examining it as if there might be tangos hidden behind my furniture?” Truck asked.
Ghost laughed nervously and brushed off the question. “I made arrangements for your cabinets to be filled, as well as your fr
idge. You should be good to go for a while.”
Truck nodded. “Thanks. Any chance the commander will ignore the doctor’s orders for me to take a month off from the team?”
Ghost shook his head. “No way in hell. You need to rest, Truck. Your brain took quite a beating. You might feel as if you’re good as new, but you can’t push it. Take the time off and be happy for it. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a vacation.”
Truck sighed. “Me being sidelined means no missions for the team, right?”
Ghost nodded. “Yeah, but that’s okay, we’re happy to stay home for a bit.”
“Why?”
Ghost’s eyes dropped from his and roamed the room.
Truck seethed inside. Even more sure his friend was hiding something from him, he wasn’t surprised when he changed the subject.
“I’ll come over tomorrow and we can watch a movie or something.”
Deciding now wasn’t the time or the place to get into it, as his head was really starting to throb, Truck asked, “Anything good come out in the last three years that I need to see?”
Ghost looked at him in surprise, then smiled. “Oh, man, it’s kinda cool that you’ll get to see movies for the first time again. Deadpool, a few new Star Wars movies, American Sniper, Hidden Figures, Logan, Sully…and of course, The Lego Movie.”
“Are you shitting me?” Truck asked.
“Yup,” Ghost said with a grin. “Only about the fucking Lego Movie. The rest are all kick-ass. I’ll see you tomorrow, Truck. Get some sleep. Call me if you need anything or if your head starts to hurt more than it is right now.”
“How do you know my head hurts?” Truck asked.
“Because we’re best friends. And because you’re squinting and tilting your head to the right.”
“Fuck. Okay, yeah, it hurts. I’m gonna take a pill or two and crash. Thanks for everything. I owe ya.”
“You owe me nothing,” Ghost returned. “You hear me? I’d crawl through hell for you, have crawled through hell, just as you’ve done for me.”
That was true. Truck was thankful once more that he hadn’t lost his memories of his teammates. He held out his hand and Ghost took it in a tight grip. When Ghost went to let go after shaking it, Truck held on.
“I know you’re keeping shit from me, and I hate it. I get why you’re doing it. The doctor told me that suddenly finding out huge pieces of my life that I’ve lost could be detrimental—but I need you to promise me that if there’s something I really need to know, you’ll tell me. Or if I do or say something that is out of line based on something that’s happened in the last three years, you’ll let me know.”
Ghost sighed. “You’re missing a lot, Truck.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Truck asked. He dropped his friend’s hand and sighed in frustration. “One part of me wants you to just tell me all of it so I can start to deal. But the other part of me knows that I’m not ready yet. I just…I don’t like this feeling inside that something’s wrong. That I’m missing out on something big.”
Ghost put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You’re gonna remember,” he vowed. “Just the fact that you feel something missing is huge.”
“I guess.”
“It is. I heard what the doctor said. That your brain is swollen and when it heals, you’ll either remember or you won’t, but fuck that. You’re gonna remember, Truck. That doctor doesn’t know you. Doesn’t know what we’ve been through. You’re a fucking Delta, we aren’t like most men. We’re smarter, quicker, stronger, and tougher. But you don’t have to remember tonight. Get some sleep. It’s been a long fucking week. I’ll come by tomorrow with some of the guys and we’ll hang out.”
“I’d like to see Hollywood,” Truck said.
Ghost pressed his lips together. “I’ll see if he can get away.”
Truck wanted to ask what Hollywood needed to get away from, but he didn’t. He knew whatever his friend was doing, it had to be important for him not to have been on the mission in Africa. Though, Hollywood was the only one he hadn’t seen or talked to since waking up after hitting his head, and he was still half afraid his friends were lying when they’d said he was alive and well.
“Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow.”
Ghost nodded and left. Truck locked the apartment door behind him and sighed in relief. He was finally alone for the first time in a long-ass week. He’d always loved being by himself. At least, he had three years ago. But, looking around, Truck had a niggling feeling in the back of his head. Something was there…but the second he tried to concentrate, a stabbing flash of pain shot through his skull.
Not bothering to check out what Ghost had gotten for him to eat, Truck went straight to his bedroom, swallowed two pain pills, then flopped down on his mattress. The sheets smelled freshly washed and he reveled in the fact they were clean. He was happy that he’d been smart enough to do laundry before he’d gone on the mission.
Truck pulled a pillow closer to him and turned over onto his side, trying to alleviate the pain in his skull. He inhaled deeply, doing his best to relax—and froze.
The pillowcase smelled like laundry soap…but there was something more there too. He couldn’t place it though.
Sitting up and ripping the pillowcase off, Truck brought the pillow to his face. He had no idea why, but the scent made him sad and aroused at the same time.
Had he brought a woman home right before the mission and had sex with her here, and now her scent lingered on his pillow? It made no sense. But the more he tried to remember why the smell triggered such a feeling of coming home, the more his head hurt.
Succumbing to the pain, Truck lay back once more, this time clutching the pillow to his chest. He buried his nose in the material and eventually fell asleep with the comforting scent surrounding him.
Chapter Seven
“I don’t know about this, Rayne,” Mary told her best friend as they sat down in the corner booth in Truck’s favorite steakhouse. It wasn’t a chain restaurant, rather a locally owned business that Rayne had told her Ghost and Hollywood were taking Truck to for lunch.
“You said you were down with Operation Make Truck Remember,” Rayne informed her.
“I am. But…what if he sees me and falls to the ground with blood leaking out of his ears or something?” Mary asked semi-hysterically.
“That’s not how amnesia works,” Rayne told her.
Mary knew that, but she was so nervous about seeing Truck for the first time. It had been two days since he’d returned home, and other than the updates she’d gotten from Rayne and the other women, she had no idea how he was doing.
All of the other women were doing everything they could to pass on information about Truck. The notifications on Mary’s phone were out of control. She’d gotten more texts in the last two days than she’d ever gotten in her life. The women all grilled their men when they came home, then reported back to Mary every single thing that Truck had said or done.
She knew all about how he’d loved the movie Deadpool, apparently especially the sex scenes. He’d gone to the gym to work out with the guys, and was irritated because the doctor had said he needed to take it easy and Fletch kept telling him to chill out. Casey had told her that Beatle had told her that Truck’s head was still bothering him, alternating between stabbing pains and a ringing sensation.
Mary both loved and hated the updates, wanting to see for herself that he was all right, but they were killing her. She was scared to death of what might happen when Truck saw her, but her desire to see him in the flesh overrode her fears.
“Breathe, Mare,” Rayne said softly when they’d gotten settled in the booth.
“What if seeing me hurts him?” Mary asked.
“Then we’ll call the doctor and deal with it.”
That wasn’t the kind of hurt that Mary meant, but she didn’t contradict Rayne.
Her best friend reached across the table and grabbed Mary’s hand. “It’s gonna suck if he doesn’t rec
ognize you,” Rayne warned.
“I know.”
“No, seriously. I know you. You’re gonna pretend that it doesn’t matter. That it’s not a big deal. But it is. I saw him yesterday in the grocery store, and he looked right through me. The man carried me, bleeding and scared out of my mind, out of that building in Egypt, and I didn’t see one spark of recognition when he walked past me. It sucked for me, and that’s why I know this is going to be doubly painful for you.”
“Jeez, why don’t you get some lemon juice and rub it in my open wounds?” Mary quipped.
Rayne squeezed her hand tighter. “All I’m saying is that it’s okay to break down. I’m not going to judge you. This is a no-judging zone.” Rayne whirled her free hand in a small circle, indicating the booth they were sitting in.
Mary gritted her teeth. “I know. You think it already doesn’t hurt, Raynie? Sleeping by myself in my bed that seems way too empty? Waking up and turning over, expecting to see him there next to me? Not one second goes by that I don’t regret the way I’ve treated him, that I didn’t get the chance to say thank you or try to tell him that I care.”
“You mean you’re sleeping?” Rayne retorted.
Mary shook her head at her best friend in exasperation. Rayne knew her too well. Either that or the dark circles under her eyes told their own story. She wasn’t sleeping. Not very much. She’d been having the worst dreams. Some involved Truck lying on the ground and bleeding out, others starred her mama saying over and over that men were no good and that love didn’t exist. Still others were nothing but weird noises and spooky shapes that had her sitting up in a panic, thinking someone had broken into her apartment.
But she didn’t tell Rayne any of that. She simply nodded her head and tried to look sincere when she said, “Of course I am.”
“You’re such a bad liar,” Rayne told her.
“So what’s the plan?” Mary asked, trying to head off another lecture.
