Phoebe smiled, but was too nervous to eat as she waited for the others to arrive. She sipped the orange juice, her heart thumping as she heard voices coming along the corridor. Would they have changed much? What if she didn’t recognize them?
But she needn’t have worried. As soon as Elliot walked in, she knew it was him. Like Dominic, he looked a little older, but his grin hadn’t changed a bit.
“Sis,” he said, and came over to give her a hug. “God, it’s good to see you awake.”
“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” She hung onto him for a moment, then let him go. Beside him stood a young woman, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, and another young woman who looked just like herself, with blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders. Both of them were crying, and her own eyes welled up as they came forward to hug her.
“Jesus, don’t fucking do that to us again,” Roberta whispered furiously. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Phoebe laughed, despite the tears leaking from her eyes. “I’ll do my best not to.”
“I knew something was wrong,” Bianca said, coming forward to hug her. “I could feel it. Is that stupid? I know it’s stupid. But when Mum called, I knew what she was going to say before I picked up the phone.”
“Born together, friends forever,” Phoebe said. “That hasn’t changed.”
Bianca sniffed and exchanged a glance with the others. Phoebe frowned, but before she could query it, her mother was pushing them away and saying, “Come on, give her some space. She needs to eat her lunch.”
“I definitely need to put on some weight.” Phoebe wiped her face and peered beneath the cover over one of the plates. “I never thought I’d be able to call myself skinny.” She picked up a piece of cheese, placed it on a cracker, and took a bite. Then, conscious that they’d fallen silent, she looked up to discover them all exchanging glances again.
“Mum said you’ve got amnesia,” Bianca said. “Is that true?”
Phoebe swallowed the mouthful and nodded slowly. Cold filtered through her, and she looked at the cracker for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to talk about it yet.
“We’ll wait until the doctor’s been and examined her before we get too worried,” Noelle said. “He’ll know more about it all.”
Phoebe had another bite of the cracker and cheese as Elliot changed the subject, talking about how terrible the coffee was from the machine, and Roberta gave him a smart comment that made him laugh. In a way, none of them seemed to have changed from the way they were when they were all kids at home. But obviously they had changed. They’d grown up, and they would all have left home. Elliot was… what? Twenty-nine now, and Dominic must be thirty-two. Christ. Were any of them married? Did they have kids? Her head ached when she tried to think about it too much.
A movement at the door caught her eye, and she glanced over. A doctor stood there, dressed in a white coat, holding a clipboard, talking to a man. The man was listening to him, but he was looking at Phoebe.
For a moment, she felt as if someone had sucked all the air out of the room. The guy was tall, maybe six-one or two, with short dark-brown hair that stuck up as if he’d been running his hands through it all morning. He wore jeans and a gray hoodie, and well-worn black Converse shoes with white trim. He was incredibly good looking, and her first thought was that maybe a movie star was doing some kind of charity visit to the hospital or something. But the way he was looking at her told her he wasn’t here by chance. He knew her.
He held her gaze for a long moment, and she swallowed the second mouthful of cracker with difficulty. Then he looked back at the doctor, nodded, and said something else before coming into the room.
“The doc will be back in a minute,” he announced as he approached the bed. He had a deep, rich voice, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck.
“Thanks,” her mother replied, looking at Phoebe. They were all looking at her. They were waiting for her reaction.
“Hey,” the guy said. Up close, she could see that his eyes were a bright blue. He was gorgeous.
He was also a complete stranger.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly, heart racing. “I don’t know who you are.”
Roberta turned away, Elliot looked at the floor, and Bianca pressed her fingers to her mouth.
The guy glanced at Noelle, then slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I’m Rafe Masters,” he told her. “I’m the guy you’re marrying in ten days’ time.”
Chapter Two
Rafe stared at his fiancé, fighting against the panic rising within him. Her eyes showed no hint of recognition, her expression holding only alarm and a touch of pity.
Even now, with her head swathed in bandages, her hair in a limp braid, no makeup, and shadows under her eyes, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. The day he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said yes, he’d felt as if he could conquer the world. He’d taken her back to his place and made love to her, not wanting to let her go, wanting to worship her for hours to show her how much he loved her.
And now she was looking at him as if she’d never seen him before in her life.
He glanced at Noelle, whose brow had furrowed. “Give her time,” she said.
Time? They were getting married in ten days!
“Ms. Goldsmith,” the doctor said cheerfully as he came into the room. “Good to see you awake.”
Rafe stepped to the side to give him space, his head still spinning.
“Hello,” Phoebe replied.
“I’m Dr. Pine,” he said. “I’m guessing everyone here is relieved to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
“Better. Very tired, though.”
“Yes, well, you’ve had a traumatic brain injury. It’s going to take you a while to heal. Your body will want to rest a lot, so it can concentrate on mending.” He placed his clipboard on the bed and came forward. “Let’s take a look then.” The nurse helped him remove the dressing on the back of Phoebe’s head, and they spent a minute examining the wound.
Her family talked in low voices while this happened, but Rafe stayed at the bottom of the bed, watching the doctor work. Phoebe stared at her hands, but every now and then her gaze flicked up to Rafe, lowering again as soon as he caught her eye.
“It’s looking good.” The doctor moved back to let the nurse change the dressing. “You might find there’s been damage to some of the hair follicles, but I think you’ll be able to style your hair over it, so it shouldn’t notice too much.”
“I don’t care,” Phoebe said. “I’m just glad to be here.”
Rafe saw her sisters exchange a look and understood their puzzlement. Phoebe might not spend a long time on her makeup, but she always took time on her hair. Before the accident, she would have been horrified at the thought of losing any of it. His unease deepened, but he scolded himself for it. Traumatic events like this were bound to change a person.
But how else might she have changed?
“Now, the nurse tells me you’re having some trouble with your memory.” The doctor picked up his clipboard.
She gave a little nod.
“You can’t remember the accident?”
A little shake.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
She looked straight at the doctor, not glancing at the others around her. “Going to university.”
Rafe’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
“That was in 2010,” Noelle pointed out to the doctor.
Elliot’s jaw had dropped. “Jesus. You’ve lost eight years?”
“She doesn’t remember anything after that.” Noelle looked at Rafe.
This was more than a brief failure to recognize his face. His fiancée didn’t remember meeting him. She’d forgotten everything they’d been through. All the little signposts along the way—their first date, first kiss, the first time they’d slept together. She didn’t remember making love with him at all. All
those wonderful moments they’d shared.
Emotion welled up in him, fierce and powerful as a tsunami. Noelle saw it and sorrow crossed her features, but he couldn’t bear to hear her sympathy. Turning, he walked out of the room and strode off down the corridor.
He ran down the stairs to the ground floor, and didn’t stop running until he was out of the hospital and in the courtyard. Sinking onto a bench, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands as his chest heaved.
Holy fucking Christ. He felt a sweep of loss, as strong as if she’d died, because in many ways the old Phoebe had. The comfort that a long-term relationship brings, the pleasure of sharing your life with someone, of knowing them intimately; it had all vanished in an instant.
What was he going to do? He sat there, fighting with his emotion, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.
After about ten minutes, he heard the door open, and someone walked across the paving stones toward him and sat on the bench. It was Elliot, Phoebe’s brother, and his good friend.
“Coffee?” Elliot handed him a cup. “It’s shit, but it’s hot.”
Rafe gave a short laugh, took the cup, and sipped it. It was shit, but it grounded him, and some of the panic began to ebb away.
“Did the doctor say anything else?” he asked.
“He’s asking her a lot of questions, like if she could remember what happened yesterday, and this morning. She can; it’s the accident and the eight years before it that have gone A.W.O.L. It’s called retrograde amnesia. It’s often temporary.”
“How long before her memory returns?”
“Could be days, weeks, or never. No way of telling.”
“Jesus.” Rafe blew out a long breath and looked up at the sky. How come the sun was shining? There should be thunder and lightning, meteors falling. Wasn’t that what happened when the world ended? “I can’t believe she doesn’t remember me.” He felt a twist of hurt deep inside. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but he couldn’t fight the feeling that it was somehow a rejection, a conscious choice of hers to push him away.
“I’m so sorry, man. I can only imagine how you’re feeling. But all’s not lost. The doctor says one way to treat it is to expose her to memories from the loss. He said it would be good for her to talk to you, and for you to remind her of things you’ve done, places you’ve been, that sort of thing.”
Rafe nodded. “She’s happy with that?”
“She wants to remember. Just… take it slow. You’re a stranger to her at the moment. But hopefully it won’t last long, and we’ll all be laughing about this in a few days’ time.”
Rafe looked down at his hands. “I hope so.”
“The doctor’s examining her now. He sent us all out of the room. He called it a moderate traumatic brain injury. He said it can affect a person in hundreds of different ways—physically, emotionally… I guess we’ll have to wait and see how it’s affected her. Apparently, it’s common to be able to remember how to do everyday things like walk, talk, or play an instrument, and to recall your childhood. It’s newer memories that are more likely to vanish.”
They’d been a couple for two years, but her brain considered Rafe a new memory. Ouch, that stung. All the times they’d shared, the intimate things they’d done, the passion they’d felt for each other, and he was less important to her than someone she would have met at eighteen.
Logically, he knew it wasn’t like that. It didn’t stop it hurting, though.
Rafe put his head back in his hands. The doctor had caught up with him earlier on the way to Phoebe’s room. “I understand that you’re Ms. Goldsmith’s fiancé,” he’d said.
“That’s right,” Rafe had replied.
“A brain injury can affect people in many ways. I’ll run through possible symptoms in a minute with the family present, but I wanted to mention a few things to you alone.”
Rafe had stopped walking. “What is it?”
“You need to be aware that it’s not unusual for the injured person’s sex life to change. Obviously, there may be physical problems resulting from the accident, but there can also be other issues. Changes in the libido aren’t uncommon.”
“You mean she might not want sex anymore?” Rafe had gone cold.
“Well, that’s one possibility on a very wide spectrum. Sometimes, the libido can increase. But changes in her ability to become aroused, or in how much she feels like sex might happen. Occasionally, it can affect a person’s attitude socially to sex…”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s common for someone with a brain injury to behave sexually at inappropriate times. And it’s also possible that she might experience reproductive issues, and have problems becoming pregnant.”
The doctor’s news had made him feel nauseous, but now, sitting in the garden with Elliot, Rafe knew that issues with their love life were the least of his problems.
“She’ll remember you,” Elliot said. “How could she not? She was crazy about you, bro.”
“Was,” Rafe repeated.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean—”
Rafe waved a hand. “I know. But what if she doesn’t get her memory back?”
Elliot blinked. “That’s not going to happen.”
“It might. We’re supposed to be getting married in ten days.”
Elliot blew out a breath. “Let’s not panic about it yet. She might remember everything in an hour. Let’s go up and find out how she’s doing, and take it step by step.”
Rafe nodded, because there wasn’t really anything else he could do.
Together, they walked back into the hospital and up the stairs to the first floor. When they got to Phoebe’s room, she was alone, still on top of the covers, her eyes closed. The two guys surveyed her for a moment.
Rafe’s throat tightened. On Thursday evening, after he’d finished his day shift, they’d had the most terrible argument. Upset and angry, Phoebe had shoved her feet in her running shoes and walked out, stating that she needed to run for a while. He should have stopped her and told her to stay with him so they could work it out, but he’d been frustrated and furious. He’d let her go, and now he’d always have that on his conscience.
When the police had turned up on his doorstep around eight p.m. to inform him she’d had an accident, Rafe had driven to the hospital far too fast, and had probably gained himself several speeding tickets on the way, not that he cared. He’d stayed by her side once she’d come out of surgery, refusing to leave all day Friday. Early on Saturday morning, Dominic had finally persuaded him to go home to catch a few hours’ sleep and have a shower. He’d done so reluctantly, only to receive a phone call not long after he’d arrived home that she’d finally woken. He was angry with himself for leaving; he’d wanted to be the first person she saw when she woke up. As it happened, it was probably best that he hadn’t been there, as she wouldn’t have recognized him anyway.
He guessed it was karma, Fate’s way of paying him back for letting her leave. It was so fucking cruel. Whatever had happened between them, neither of them deserved this.
“Let’s find the others.” Elliot tugged his sleeve. Tearing his gaze away from her face, Rafe followed him along to the TV room with a heavy heart.
Noelle, Roberta, and Bianca were the only ones in there, talking quietly. The two guys joined them, sitting on one of the sofas.
“You okay?” Bianca asked him.
He nodded. In his role as a firefighter, Rafe had met Elliot, who was a cop, several years ago through work when they’d both attended a coach crash on the state highway. Through Elliot, a few months’ later, he’d met Phoebe, and had immediately fallen for the gorgeous blonde. He’d met her twin just days later, and he had to admit he’d been taken aback to meet someone who was the mirror image of the woman of his dreams. Back then, the two young women had possessed similar temperaments, both relatively quiet and gentle, with a wry sense of humor he loved. Phoebe had changed
a lot since then, though. It had been one of the things that had come up in their argument on the day of the accident. An argument she no longer remembered. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
“You look awful,” Roberta said. Eighteen months older than the twins, she had a feistier temperament and a blunt way of speaking that he sometimes liked and sometimes found frustrating.
“Thanks.” He shot her a glare.
“What was the doctor’s verdict?” Elliot asked.
“He examined her all over,” Noelle told them. “All things considered, it could have been a lot worse, physically. No broken bones, just a few bumps and bruises on her arms and legs and that graze on her hip. He said the head wound is doing well, and shows no signs of infection. He thinks he got all the little bits of gravel out of it, and it’s already on the mend.”
“What about the injury to her brain?” Rafe said.
“He spoke to her for a while, testing her speech, her reactions, her senses. Mostly, she seems fairly normal, which is good news. She’s a little confused, which is to be expected if she’s lost her memory. It’s taking time to process her thoughts, but he hopes that will get better.”
“And her memory?”
“She can remember a few moments following the accident, and what happened this morning. That might not seem like much, but it means she’s laying down new memories, which is a good thing. But I know it’s her long-term memory you’re worried about. The thing is, there’s no telling if or when it will return. Or even how badly her injury will affect her. She’s going to be tired for a while, and she’s going to need time to heal. He said to expect at the minimum some of the signs of PTSD.”
“Like?” Rafe asked.
“Sleeping too much or not being able to get to sleep. Bad dreams. Anxiety or depression, especially when she can’t remember something, or she encounters something that confuses her, such as technology she doesn’t remember. Personality changes. There’s a list as long as your arm of things that could happen, but it doesn’t mean that all—or any—of them will. We’re just going to have to wait and see how it goes. Dr. Pine said one way to help is to remind her of the memories she’s lost, and that might trigger them to come back.”
Bride in Trouble Page 2
