by Tia Siren
He was right of course. She had to wake up first, and even then, the odds of her forgiving me were slim. But that was fine. I had to try. This was a gift, after all.
There was just something about Kate that made it impossible to let her go. She was so damn perfect for me in every way. Our personalities melded like butter and sugar, and our sexual chemistry had been explosive.
Kate had always been sexually adventurous. There was little she wasn't willing to try, and I was always more than happy to try new things with her. It may have been sick, but seeing her lying on that bed brought back some ridiculous memories of the things we used to get up to. There were many reasons why I wanted to try being with her again, and our sexual chemistry was definitely one of them.
It was these thoughts that pushed me over the edge. As I looked down at Kate, I couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was. Her breathing was deep and steady. Her chest rose and fell so perfectly. The room was empty, too. It was just me and her.
I moved closer and leaned over her. I relished the feeling of her breath as it hit my face. I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it was like when those lips were on mine, when I was allowed to kiss them as I pleased.
Without even thinking about it or how it might look, I bent forward and softly planted a kiss on her lips. My heart raced inside my chest as our lips met. But best of all, it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be, and it was in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
I had to get Kate back.
The moment was short-lived, however. Her breathing increased, and the monitors strapped to her went haywire. The second I pulled my lips away, her eyelids fluttered open. She was awake.
CHAPTER 2
KATE
I couldn't remember a thing. That wasn't an exaggeration. I really couldn't remember a single thing.
I woke up, staring at a white ceiling that I didn't recognize. As I looked up at it, I had to contend with the fact that I couldn't remember any other ceiling in my mind. Not my apartment's, or the house that I grew up in, or wherever I went to school.
I was aware of the concept of a ceiling, and I was aware that I probably grew up in a house and probably went to school. But as far as my actual memories went, this might as well be the first ceiling I’d ever seen in my entire life.
That thought sent a very real panic spreading through me. I sat up in bed, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. I looked around me and realized I was in a hospital room. That much, I knew. But that was where it stopped.
The panic, that cold unsettling feeling that began in my stomach and spread over my limbs, only increased in ferocity when I tried to remember who I was and how I had gotten to the hospital. I tried to form these memories, and I was met with nothing. Everything before this moment was a blank wall of darkness. I had no idea who I was.
My panic turned to hysteria. I was losing my mind. The urge to scream overwhelmed me, but I forced myself to suppress it. I wanted to leap out of bed and run for dear life, even though I didn't know where I could have run to.
Then a nurse entered the room, and I felt a very small sense of calm. She would have some answers for me, or at least, I hoped she would.
"Oh, hello," she beamed as she hurried toward me. "Look who's awake." She made her way to my side, taking me by the hand as she began to examine my pulse and other vitals. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel... confused," I managed.
I was having a hard time talking, too. My throat hurt, I had a headache, and I really had no idea what to say. I hoped that this sudden memory loss was just a result of whatever medication I was on. I hoped that the nurse would soon confirm for me that there was nothing to worry about.
"That's to be expected. You were out for two days. It's totally normal to be feeling a little confused." She let go of my hand and picked up my chart at the end of the bed.
"And my memory?" I asked, feeling slightly relieved by her positivity. Maybe this was normal, after all.
"What about it?" she asked, not looking at me as she continued to study my chart. Her eyes roamed over it, and she seemed totally nonplussed by the worried expression I was surely wearing.
"Well, I don't remember anything. Is that normal? I mean it will come back, right? My memory?"
This caused her to stop. The way she paused made my stomach sink and my head spin. Her eyes that were scanning the chart suddenly stopped dead as I told her that I had no memory. Slowly, she looked up at me, clear concern on her face. "What do you mean? What don't you remember?"
"Anything," I said. "Nothing at all. I don't even remember my name."
It was a chilling realization. Up until that point, I hadn't even thought about it. But as I told her that I didn't remember anything, I realized that even my own name was missing from my memory.
"Ah, just hang in there. I'll be back in a minute."
The calm, comforting feeling that she had brought with her instantly evaporated. She dropped the chart and hurried from the room. I was suddenly very cold and very aware of how alone I was. I had never been so scared.
Or maybe I had? It was impossible to know.
--
Over the next few hours, I was subjected to a series of tests by several different medical professionals. What their names were, I had no idea, and what their titles were, I was also not privy to. They were men and women in white coats, all fussing over me. They poked my skin, pulled my fingers, and shined bright lights into my eyes.
After those tests were done with, they proceeded to ask me the same questions, over and over again. And each time that I told them that I couldn't remember anything, they all provided me with the same perplexed reaction.
None of them knew quite what to make of my memory loss. They all concluded the same thing, that it was caused by my head injury from the crash. But none of them seemed to be able to tell me when my memory would come back, if at all.
By the end of the experience, after the fifth doctor left the room, I felt more alone and confused than I had when I had woken up. What was even more bizarre was that none of the men or women who had examined me were my actual doctor. At least that was what the nurse told me.
They were all professionals in their respective fields who wanted to get a look at me as if I were some sort of sideshow. It wasn't until late in the afternoon that my actual doctor finally made himself known.
I was sitting in bed, looking out the window, when he came in. I had been staring at the parking garage that was visible from my window, trying to concoct any sort of memory that I could but failing miserably. I was feeling frustrated and a little scared, and it was only when I first laid eyes on him that the feelings vanished, replaced with a different emotion all together.
The doctor was tall. Taller than the others that had come through. He was also very handsome, like TV doctor handsome. It was funny really. Even though I couldn't remember my own name, I knew what a TV doctor looked like, with their square jaw, dark hair, kind eyes, and a breathtaking smile. This doctor had all of that. But there was something else, too.
From the moment that I saw him, I felt oddly at peace, as if I knew him somehow. He had a comforting effect on me that I was instantly grateful for, considering how I had been treated up to that point.
"Ms. Monroe," he said in a deep voice as he swept into the room. "I'm Doctor Liam Morgan."
"You're my doctor?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter. It was stupid, but despite the situation I was in, I didn't want to look like I was slouching.
"I am." He smiled as he pulled up a seat by my side. "And I want to apologize for not coming in to see you sooner. I was going to, but as soon as your condition got out, every man and his dog wanted to examine you. I thought it best if I see you on my own. You understand?"
"Yes, I guess so," I admitted.
"Excellent," he said, flashing me a gorgeous smile. For a moment, he didn't say a word, instead opting to stare at me and take me in.
There was something very familiar about hi
m. It was his eyes. They were a deep blue, and they looked at me in a way that I was sure I had seen before. It made me feel warm, for the first time since I had woken up.
"Here's the deal," he began. "You have an extremely severe and rare case of amnesia. From what I have been told, your memories are all but gone, and there is no telling when, or if, they will come back."
"They might not come back?" I blurted out.
I hadn't been told that yet. That idea was terrifying.
"We don’t know. Chances are that one day, you will wake up, and they will be there like they never left. But as I said, there is just no way of knowing for sure."
"So, what do I do?"
"I've called your emergency contact. She will be here within the hour. Maybe seeing her will help jog your memory. If not, she can at least help you get back on your feet." He ran his hand through his thick head of hair. As he did, his musk wafted off him and filled my nostrils. He smelled divine. "But the good news is that apart from the amnesia, you are totally fine. A few bruises and that's about it."
"Oh, yippee," I said dryly.
He let out a short laugh. "I know this must be hard. But be glad that you are still in good health. Your memory will come back to you in time." He slowly stood from his chair, towering over me. He really was tall.
"Where are you going?" I asked, perhaps a little too rushed.
"To see other patients. I'll come back and check on you soon, okay? Don't worry, you're in good hands." He then turned and left the room, but not without looking back at me one more time.
There was something very odd about the way he looked at me, too. It was as if he knew something I didn’t and was trying to decide if he should tell me. I had to remind myself that he was a doctor and that was most likely the case.
And, as silly as it probably sounded, a part of me was wondering if he was checking me out. I probably looked terrible in my current state, and the odds were slim, but still. He was gorgeous, and I could only imagine how I would have acted had we met under different circumstances. I had a feeling that he wouldn't have been calling me Ms. Monroe for too much longer. That's for damn sure.
But even still, as I settled myself back into my bed, I slowly forgot about the handsome doctor. Any other time, he may have stayed with me, but as things stood, I had a lot more on my mind. Or, to be more precise, I had nothing on my mind. Not a single real memory and that was what scared me the most.
CHAPTER 3
LIAM
"What are you doing?"
"Jesus Christ!" I screamed, spinning around on the spot with my hands held in front of me in an act of self-defense.
There was no need for this over the top gesture, though. It was just Clint sneaking up behind me. He had caught me completely off guard. But in my defense, I was in the bathroom and hadn’t expected company. And any company that may have made itself known, I didn’t think would pop up out of nowhere.
"Are you doing your hair?" he asked, trying not to smirk.
"No, I'm not doing my hair," I scoffed as I pushed past him and powered out of the bathroom. Yes, I actually had been doing my hair. I just didn't want him to know it. And I was only doing it a bit, just fixing up the sides and making sure that it was all in place. As a doctor, I found that my physical appearance very easily deteriorated over the day. So every now and then, I liked to ensure that everything was still as it ought to have been. At least, that was what I was planning on telling anyone who asked.
"Yes, you were," Clint called after me, chasing me down the hallway of the hospital. "And don’t for one second think that I don't know why you're doing it, either. You're trying to look your best for—"
Without a word, I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a nearby, empty room. As soon as he was in the room, I closed the door behind us, ensuring that we were alone.
"Speak," I demanded.
He wore a big, goofy smile on his face, and I couldn't remember a time that I had ever seen him look so happy. "You really think that I was born yesterday?”
"Will you just come out with it already so I can shoot you down, and we can get on with the day?" I knew what he was going to say, but I had chosen to play ignorance, just in case.
"You're doing it for Kate,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You want to look your best when you see her so that she thinks you're this drop dead gorgeous doctor or something? Tell me I'm wrong."
"Okay, you're wrong," I said with as much conviction as I could muster, which really wasn't very much. And, just to confirm this fact, Clint let out a long and very loud snort in derision of my statement.
He was one hundred percent on the money, too. Ever since Kate had woken up, I had been planning how I would get her back. Before that, even. The first and most obvious step in any seduction was to look my best, hence the attention to my hair. But that was only the first step. And considering the circumstances that surrounded her suddenly being awake, it may have also been the least important.
When they told me she had amnesia, I had first thought that I had the worst luck in the world. I saw it as a slap in the face. I was presented with a chance to redeem myself and apologize for how I had behaved, only to be put in a situation where she wouldn't even remember me.
But it didn’t take very long for me to realize the hidden benefit that this new scenario presented. If she couldn't remember me and what I had done, then I had no reason to apologize. In fact, as far as she was concerned, I was a total stranger. A handsome doctor stranger to be more precise. All I had to do was win her over again, for the first time. Something that I knew I could do.
"Is that all?" I asked Clint, who was still staring at me with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Because if it is, I have patients to attend to.”
"Wait one second,” he said, grabbing my arm. “That's not all. You can't be doing what I think you're doing? Can you be?"
"What do you think I'm doing?" I asked, deciding to keep playing dumb.
"You're going to try and pick up Kate? Under the guise that you don’t know her, and she doesn't know you?"
"Well, technically she doesn't know me," I tried, not sounding anywhere near as confident as I would have liked. I knew the ethics behind my scheme weren't exactly golden, and I wanted to try and play it off as casually as I could.
"That's not right. I don't know, Liam. There is something not quite right about any of this. It feels like you're taking advantage of her."
He was right, of course, and it was something I had been wrestling with since finding out about her condition. On the one hand, I knew that I should have told her the truth. The second that she woke up, I should have told her who she was and what our history was. If I had done that, then maybe I could have even helped her get her memory back. A part of me meant to do exactly that. But when I went into that room and saw her for the first time in a year, I just couldn't.
I had forgotten how beautiful she was. Her dark brown hair, her big green eyes, and that cute little pixie nose. Her athletic body and her bright smile. Every part of her was perfect, and I cringed at the idea of admitting to her that I knew her, that we used to date and that I had broken her heart, as well as my own. So, I didn’t tell her. Instead, I chose to act totally normal, like I would with any patient.
But as I spoke to her and realized the severity of her condition, I came up with an idea.
My original plan, before learning of her amnesia, was to convince her that I had changed and that I still loved her. Well, I couldn't do that anymore, but I could go one step further. I could show her that I had changed. If I could convince her to go on a date with me and show her how great of a guy I was, then there was a chance, albeit a small one, that when her memory came back, she might see it in her heart to forgive me? And that's if her memory ever came back.
It was a long shot, but one I had to take. Second chances didn’t come around very often, and I would have been a fool to ignore it when it did. Unfortunately, when I told him about my plan, Clin
t didn’t see it in quite the same light as me.
"You're joking?” he asked. “That's dishonest. There's definitely something not right about it."
"How come?" I defended, using the same arguments I had been going over in my mind for the past few hours. "I'm not going to force her to be with me. I'm not lying to her. Not really, anyway. All I'm going to do is ask her to go on a date with me, hopefully, and show her that I have changed."
"And when she gets her memory back?"
"Hopefully, by then, she'll see then that I am different. Look, you remember how it was when we broke up? You were there. You know how much it crushed me. All I want is one more chance, just to tell her how I feel. Well, this is that chance. I may never get another one. That’s why I have to give this a shot, even if it’s not exactly ethical.”
Indeed, Clint had been there for me when Kate and I broke up for good, a year earlier. He was there to console me and tell me that everything would get better. But everything wasn't better. A year had passed, and I still thought about her. She was the only romantic interest that I had ever had and ever wanted. Clint should have known that I would do anything to get her back. I loved her, and love made people do crazy things.
"So, tell me, now. Is it wrong if I don’t tell her that we know each other and we used to date? If you think it is, then I won’t ask her out. But if you think that there is even the smallest gray area, where this is okay, then get out of the way and let me go and ask out the woman of my dreams."
Clint remained where he was for some time, staring at me as he bit the inside of his lip. Finally, he spoke. "Ethically, you should probably tell her that you two know each other. But romantically, I don’t think you’re obligated to tell her about your shared past. Still, you know this has the potential to blow up in your face.”
“I know that,” I said.
