by Dori Lavelle
I lift Bree into the car, covering her with blankets I stole from the motel to make her comfortable in the backseat. We have a long drive ahead of us.
I check on her every couple of miles, and give her some water, but she sleeps most of the way, which is a good thing.
This period of our lives is over. The old Bree is gone and her career will be nothing but a memory. A few hours ago, I used her phone to send an email to her boss to let him know that she won’t be coming back to the firm because she has decided to travel the world with her husband in order to repair her broken marriage. I know she called him before the accident. I heard everything she told him. He’ll never see her again. I won’t allow anyone to stop us.
As far as I’m concerned, the old Bree died in the car accident, and from now on, her name will be Amanda Brooks. What’s a new start without a new name?”
After a couple of hours on the road, I stop at a roadside motel and book us a room for the night. I have to be careful not to exhaust her. She needs to eat something, and I need to have a look at her head wound. The bandages might need changing.
First, I take her into our room. Once she’s comfortable on the bed, I return to the car to grab the bag of groceries in the trunk.
When I come back into the room, I find her trying to sit up. She sees me and her mouth opens, but she only croaks.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I rush to her side. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m here.” I help her sit up and place a big pillow on each side of her.
“Are you hungry?” I lift a fruit yogurt from the bag. “You must be. You were asleep for a long time.”
She still doesn’t speak, but she eats the yogurt I feed her.
“That’s my girl.” I brush the hair from her forehead. She’s out of the woods.
“Who are you?” she asks after I wipe her mouth.
Her question knocks the wind from my lungs. As the words start to sink in, panic grips me.
I bring my face close to hers. “What do you mean, baby? Don’t you remember me?”
She only blinks.
While she continues to stare at me as though I’m a stranger, I shoot to my feet and start pacing, biting down on my fist. How is it possible that my wife doesn’t remember me? This can’t be happening.
I come to a halt by the window, looking out into the night.
Think. Think, Hunter.
I take a few deep breaths, then turn around slowly to face her. Her eyes are still blank. The blow to the head must have been more severe than I thought.
What if it’s not a bad thing? This could be your chance to start fresh.
The voice in my head is right. Her lack of memory could be the blank slate I need to turn her into the woman I want her to be.
I return to the bed and pull her into my arms. She tries to push me away, still believing I’m a stranger, but she doesn’t have the energy. Her body grows limp in mine.
“I’m your husband. You were in a car accident. That’s why you don’t remember.” I kiss the top of her head. “But you’re okay now. We’ll be fine. I love you. You need to sleep now.”
She’s already half-asleep by the time I lay her down, after changing her bandages.
I spend most of the night in a chair next to the bed, watching her, thinking of ways to make this new turn of events work for me.
At 4 A.M., while she’s still sleeping, I grab a pair of scissors and chop off her hair. The long hair reminds me of the woman she used to be.
The transformation process has begun.
By 5 A.M., we’re back on the road, and after being awake for less than an hour, she’s back to sleep again.
By the time we reach Misty Cove, the sun is high up in the sky and I feel much more enthusiastic about Amanda’s loss of memory. It’s best for me to start referring to her by her new name.
I already have the keys to the cottage so there’s no need to let Randy and Donna know we’re here. They know we’ll be arriving in Misty Cove today, but I didn’t give them a time. I didn’t want Donna’s curiosity to get in the way of our business.
I manage to get Amanda into the house without anyone approaching to greet us. I lay her carefully on the bed, but she’s awake now, staring into space.
“Are you all right, Amanda,” I ask when I bring in our few belongings from the car.
Her brows draw together. “I’m not...That’s not my name.”
I sigh and sit on the bed next to her, a hand on her shoulder. “It is, baby. You just forgot.” I smile down at her. “Your name is Amanda Brooks.”
I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that name becomes a part of her. I’ll not allow her to mess with my plans.
She doesn’t say or do anything else for the rest of the day, except to flinch every time I come near her. I choose to be patient, but when night finally falls, I slip into bed next to her and drape an arm around her body.
“Let me go,” she cries, but I only hold her tighter.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re home.”
Chapter Seventeen
Bree
I open my eyes slowly, hoping when I see his face again, I’ll remember. But he’s not in bed. I’m alone. I feel alone, scared, and empty.
I stretch out my hand to feel the place where Dave spent the night. He must have just gotten out of bed because it’s still warm.
Who is he? Where am I? Who am I?
He said my name is Amanda Brooks, but it doesn’t feel right.
My head hurts as I turn to look around me. It’s the first time I’m actually seeing the room.
It’s a nice, airy room with warm colors and comfortable furniture. The light spilling through the window makes everything look cheery and bright. The sounds of waves crashing and seagulls squawking drift through the open window. But my surroundings are not important unless I know who I am.
Now that I’m finally alone, I can try to remember my life. I shut my eyes, forcing the memories to flood back into my mind, but I get nothing. There’s a void inside my head and I can’t find anything to fill it with.
It hurts to feel lost. Everything hurts. My body hurts, but it’s a weird, distant pain as though it belongs to someone else.
The door opens and I shrink up inside. He’s standing in the doorway, carrying a plate in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. I’m both terrified and relieved to see him.
I smell the aroma of pancakes before he brings them to me, sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking down at me with a tender expression. I’m not sure why I’m afraid of him. He’s a stranger to me, but there’s nothing unkind about the way he looks at me. Maybe he really is my husband. Either way, he’s the only person I know right now.
He places a hand on my forehead. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” he asks, his tone warm and gentle.
I part my lips to speak, but nothing comes out. I want to nod my head, but I’m afraid of the pain. I blink instead.
“Are you in pain?” he asks, sensing my discomfort.
He puts the things he’s carrying on the bedside table and gets to his feet. “I’ll give you something to make you feel better.” He smiles. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. I’m actually a doctor.”
He’s a doctor. Knowing that makes me feel a little better. He’ll make the pain go away. If only he could cure my mind as well.
Dave pulls a bag from the foot of the bed and removes a syringe and a vial of something clear.
I bite into my lower lip as I stare at the sharp needle on the syringe.
“Don’t be afraid.” His eyes are on me as he fills the syringe with the medication. “This will make you feel better faster than a pill.”
He comes back to the bed and takes my arm. A sudden urge to pull away overcomes me, but my body and mind don’t seem to be working well together. I’m also desperate for relief.
“Just relax,” he says.
I flinch a little as the tip of the needle breaks into my skin and Dave injects the drug into my
system. I don’t care what he’s giving me right now. I want to feel better. Maybe if the pain is erased, it will be easier for me to remember.
I close my eyes, giving the drug time to work. And it does, quite fast.
Once the pain subsides, I open my eyes again. He’s still here, still watching me with a caring expression on his face. He says he’s my husband. I don’t remember marrying him. I don’t even remember dating him.
“You must eat something,” he says.
My stomach rumbles in response. I didn’t know I was hungry until now.
“See, I know what my lady wants.” Dave helps me sit up and brings a piece of pancake to my lips.
My eyes on his face, I take a small bite, then another. Before I know it, I’ve eaten the whole pancake. He lifts the glass of juice to my lips and I take a sip. The orange juice is a little on the sour side, but refreshing. I relish every drop while he looks on with a faint smile.
“That’s my girl. Do you feel better?” He returns the glass to the bedside table, next to the plate.
“I don’t know.” A lump forms in my throat. “Who am I?” I know I asked him the question already yesterday, but I need more answers than he gave me.
A cloud flits across his features, but it disappears almost instantly. Then he takes my hand in his. “You’re my wife, Amanda. That’s all you need to know right now. Don’t bother yourself with anything else.”
“I can’t remember anything. I can’t remember you.” I wet my lips. “I can’t remember us getting married.” I swallow down the sob rising up my throat. I feel uneasy at the thought of crying in front of him.
He places a hand on my cheek and smiles down at me. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you remember. But don’t pressure yourself.”
“But I can’t...I need to know.”
After a moment of silence, he gets to his feet and goes to a claw-footed table standing by the window. He picks up what looks like an album and brings it to the bed.
As he flips through it, my life starts to unfold in front of my eyes.
He told the truth. He is my husband. The photos prove it. Photos of us walking down the aisle. Photos of us eating wedding cake. Photos of us dancing, kissing, and gazing into each other’s eyes.
“We look so happy,” I whisper.
“Do you believe me now?” he asks. “Do you remember us?”
“I don’t know. It looks like someone else’s life.” I see the photos, but no emotions come up in me to support the truth they’re trying to convey.
Cold terror sweeps through me. What if I never remember my life? What if I have lost it all, all the memories I made?
I do remember bits and pieces. I remember the accident, the sound of metal against metal, the squeal of tires, a loud crash. I remember my head hitting something hard and the blood trickling down my face. But that’s all. That’s all.
I don’t fight him as he changes the bandages around my head and gives me something more to drink.
“Do you feel like having a bath?” he asks when he’s done.
I hesitate before answering. He’s my husband, but he’s a stranger to my mind. How can I be naked in front of him?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’m your husband. You don’t have to be uncomfortable around me.” He drags a palm down one side of his face. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t come to the bathroom with you. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in there alone, in case you faint or something. You’re still fragile.”
“I don’t need a bath,” I say, my tone firm. “But I need to use...I need to go to the toilet.” The heat of humiliation floods my cheeks, but at the same time, my bladder starts to complain.
Yesterday, when I needed to use the toilet, he carried me there because I was much too weak to feel embarrassed. Today is different.
“Okay, let’s do it.” Before I can protest, he gathers me into his arms and carries me to the bathroom. But when he lowers me to the ground and tries to push down my panties, I stop him.
“I can do it.” I take a shaky step back. “Can you look away, please?”
“As you wish.” He turns to face the other way, arms folded across his chest.
I manage to lower myself to the toilet bowl without tipping over.
When I’m done, I wipe myself down and struggle to my feet. The effort makes my head swim and my eyes blur. But after a few deep breaths, I feel okay again.
“You can turn around now,” I say in a low voice. He comes to my side immediately and guides me to the sink.
After we leave the bathroom, he takes me downstairs to a bright yellow kitchen.
“A change of scenery will do you good,” he says. You’ve been cooped up in the room for too many hours.”
He’s right. Being out of the room makes it easier for me to breathe.
At the kitchen table, I gaze out the window at the beach, which is only a few steps from our cottage. It’s refreshing to see the waves foaming and crashing on the shore.
“Where did we live before we came here?” I ask, watching two children chasing each other into the water.
Dave places a glass of water in front of me, then sits down. “We lived in Chicago. But we’re here now. This is our new life.” He smiles. “It’s quiet and more relaxing here. The doctors said the best thing for you right now is peace and quiet.”
“Did I work in Chicago?” I lean forward.
“Well, you did work before you got pregnant.”
My hands move to my stomach. “I’m pregnant?” A rush of fear courses through my veins. How could I forget being pregnant? How could I forget about my own baby?
“Not anymore. You lost the baby in the accident.” Dave sniffs. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I know this is hard for you to hear. I wanted to tell you after you get better.”
“How far along was I?” A sudden cramp twists my stomach. It seems to remember the pregnancy faster than I am.
“Eighteen weeks. But you were small. You will probably not notice any signs of pregnancy on your body.”
As I watch him, I feel crushing hurt pressing down on me. How could I forget something so important?
“What was it?” My fingers tighten around my empty belly. “A boy or girl?”
“A little girl. We were both so excited because we tried for so long to get pregnant.”
“How long are we married for?” I can’t stop the question from bursting through my lips. I need to know everything.
He drops his gaze. “Two years. But we wanted to start a family as quickly as possible.” He gets to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed. You can’t overexert yourself.”
I don’t say or ask anything more as he takes me back to the room and tucks me in. What happened can’t be easy for him either. He must be hurting as much as I am. It must be hard for him to not only lose a child, but to also be forgotten by his wife.
He walks away from the bed while I stare into space. When he comes back to me, he has a syringe in his hand.
Before I can ask what kind of medication he’s giving me, he injects the contents into my arm. “You need to sleep.” He kisses my forehead.
Whatever he gave me has an instant effect on me. Before I know it, I feel like I’m flying, then my eyes start to droop.
But thoughts are still racing through my head and tears seeping through the corners of my eyes. I’m grieving a baby I have never met, a life I have forgotten. I’m desperate to know who I am, who I was, what I lost. I don’t want to experience it all secondhand. I want to remember for myself.
Dave lies down next to me, holding me tight as my sobs break me. “It’s all right,” he keeps repeating. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He presses a kiss to my lips. I feel too lonely to reject him.
“I love you,” he whispers.
I don’t say it back because I can’t. I can’t love someone I don’t know.
I’m drifting off to sleep when he lets me go and gets out o
f bed.
“I need to take care of a few things in the house. I might also go out to do some shopping. I want you to sleep, okay?”
“Don’t leave me alone.” I jam my hands into my armpits. “I’m scared.” I know I sound like a child, but I’m terrified of this life. I’m even terrified of myself.
“I won’t leave you alone, baby.” He kisses my forehead. “I’ll be checking up on you.” Through the blur in my eyes, I watch him walk to the door and step out of the room. The door closes and I hear a click.
He locked it. He locked me inside the room. Why would he do that?
Panic drives me to fight off sleep and drag myself off the bed. I go to the window, which is now closed as well. That’s when I notice that there are metal bars on the other side. I suddenly remember seeing bars on other windows in the house. Maybe this is not a safe area to live.
But why would he lock me inside the room?
I can’t ask him because he’s already getting in the car outside.
Terrified and much too tired, I stumble back to the bed and curl up under the blanket. I hope he returns soon.
I fall asleep for what feels like ten minutes when he wakes me again. I didn’t hear him come in.
I rub the sleep from my eyes and glare at him. “Don’t lock me in the room again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Hunter
My hand slides slowly up and down my dick. My eyes are on her. She’s sleeping, her chest rising and falling gently. She doesn’t need to be naked for me to be turned on by her. But it’s only a matter of time before I get to claim her again.
I’m just about to reach climax when my phone vibrates. Amanda shifts and lets out a soft moan, but she doesn’t open her eyes. The sleeping pills I sneaked into her drink last night are still doing their job.
My teeth clenched, I slide quietly out of bed and go downstairs to take the call.
I’m standing in the living room, gazing out the window when I press the phone to my ear.
“What the fuck are you doing calling me?”
“I’m sorry, Mister.” Keith’s voice is slurred. When I gave him the job to watch over Bree at the hospital, I had asked him to call me Mister. It was too risky for him to know my name.
