Memories of You: An Mpreg Romance

by Austin Bates

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  End of Book – Please Read This

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  Memories of You

  AUSTIN BATES

  Published by SFB, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  MEMORIES OF YOU

  First edition. October 4, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 AUSTIN BATES.

  Written by AUSTIN BATES.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  End of Book – Please Read This

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  “I’m sorry, Hunter. I hate to do this to you, but you understand, right?” The well-dressed man standing in front of Hunter had an apologetic look on his face. In fact, nearly everyone in the high-end law office was looking at him with some mix of pity and apology as he stood outside the office door with his name on it.

  He hated those looks. Why did they have to look at him like that? Just because he couldn’t remember their names didn’t mean he wanted, or needed, their pity.

  “I just came to get my stuff,” said Hunter, choosing his words carefully. They didn’t need to know what he was feeling inside. He pushed open the office door. He looked around the inside of the room with disinterest. Nothing in here meant anything to him. A corner office on the 14th floor of a downtown high-rise. Supposedly that was a desirable location. Either way, it didn’t really matter to him. Just like the people staring at him, his co-workers, meant nothing.

  “I understand,” the man said quickly. “I think there were a few of your things in the meeting room as well. Pictures from your internship and things like that.”

  “I don’t want them,” said Hunter with a sigh as he advanced into the office and ran his fingers across the surface of the massive desk that dominated the middle of the room. Why would he want to hold onto things from a past that was no longer relevant? Why did this man care?

  “Well, I could have them boxed up and sent to you? Or maybe your mother would like them?” The man suggested as he followed Hunter into the room.

  Hunter knew the man was just trying to help. That’s all anyone tried to do anymore. They all just wanted to help him. It might have been endearing, but he only felt frustration. He didn’t know these people. All he wanted to do was go home and go to bed. He was tired and today had been long.

  “Hunter?” the man called his name, trying to get his attention.

  “Yeah, sorry. Um...Brian, right? What was the question again?”

  The man nodded slowly and repeated the question.“Would you like me to send the pictures to your mother?”

  Hunter shrugged. Would she want pictures of her son? Maybe, it was hard to tell anymore. Still, he supposed throwing them all away would just be a waste.

  “Yeah, sure. I guess you can do that if you want.” Hunter passed the desk without a second look at the knickknacks and memorabilia that littered its surface. A trip to Disneyland, a vacation in Maui, none of that sparked anything in him. None of it meant anything.

  The view of the city stretched out before him. This, at least, was something he could appreciate. The towering structures of glass and metal that dotted the horizon were beautiful in their own way. The way the sunlight reflected off windows and steel made the city look like a glittering jewel.

  Far below, busy people dashed to and fro crossing a busy plaza with a massive fountain in the middle. All over the place there was busyness and life. So much so that it helped Hunter forget his own troubles for a moment. For a moment, he was just one person in a city of millions.

  “Would you like me to get you a box or something?” asked Brian. His voice dragged Hunter back to reality.

  “No,” said Hunter after a minute. “I don’t want anything. You can dump it all in the trash.” He turned away from the window. “I honestly don’t need any of it. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

  Why had he even bothered coming here? That silent, secret hope that burned at the back of his mind had goaded him on again. It had failed. Again. Nothing here triggered his memories. Just like the doctors had warned him. He wasn’t going to find meaning, or identity, in a bunch of knickknacks belonging to someone he could not recall.

  Before the man could respond, Hunter found himself making his way out of the office. He glanced around the spacious layout of the law firm and tried to summon some sort of affinity for the place. He should have felt a sense of loss as he walked towards the elevators. He was losing his job. A job he had devoted years to earning. He was losing his co-workers. He was losing friends and connections.

  That lack of feeling should have been disturbing. It was amazing what one could grow accustomed to in a few weeks time.

  As the elevator doors slid open, Hunter locked eyes with its only occupant. A tall man, well-groomed, devilishly handsome with a five-o’clock shadow, and piercing blue eyes. The handsome face contorted with a look of surprise at Hunter’s presence.

  “I didn’t expect to see you around here so soon,” said this man as he stepped off the elevator.

  “Well, you probably won’t see me around here anymore either,” Hunter responded tersely as he stepped past the man and onto the elevator.

  “Wait, are you saying they fired you?” the man asked as he placed a hand over the elevator door to keep it from sliding closed. There was an intensity in his eyes that sent chills down Hunter’s spine.

  “Of course they fired me,” said Hunter, shaking his head slowly. “What else were they going to do? I suppose you, like everyone else in this damn building, already know what happened. It’s not like I could hold down a job like this anyway.”

  “Yeah, but what if—“

  “What if my memories come back?” Hunter finished for him. How many times had he heard that question already? “That’s not going to happen. This isn’t some fairy tale day-time soap opera. They’re gone. Completely. They’re not coming back. I’m never going to remember eight years of
law school just like I’m never going to remember your name.”

  His tone had slowly risen in volume, and he clenched his fists in frustration. Coming here had been a mistake. Walking into this office had been his last hope for some sort of connection to his past. But all of the faces that now looked towards the elevator in concern were just as strange to him as they had been before.

  There was nothing left of the Hunter Kilder that had gone to Yale and graduated top of his class. He was gone, and he had been replaced with a blank slate that had no connection to anyone or anything.

  “Just let me go,” said Hunter softly, shrinking further back into the elevator.

  A series of emotions passed across the man’s face before he removed his hand and let the elevator doors slide shut.

  “HOW COULD YOU TELL them to just throw it all away?” Melinda sounded like she was about to cry into her cellphone.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” retorted Hunter as he leaned back against the seat of the taxi cab. “I don’t remember any of that stuff. It’s pointless to hold onto it all.” How had she even known to call him?

  “But you might,” Melinda nearly sobbed. “You might remember and then you’ll want those souvenirs.”

  “Mom...” the word felt strange in Hunter’s mouth. Melinda had birthed him, raised him, and sat by his hospital bed while he was unconscious. But his memories of her only began on the day he woke up.

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” he continued. “I just can’t put my life on hold waiting for something that might never happen.”

  Melinda was silent for several long moments. Hunter felt like he should say something to fill the silence, but he couldn’t come up with anything. His reserve of conversational topics was decidedly empty. Had he been a good conversationalist before all of this happened?

  “Just promise that you’ll come home for Easter dinner, okay?” her voice sounded a little more stable now.

  “I...” Hunter really didn’t want to make that promise. Surrounding himself with his blood relatives would only cause more frustration and anguish. He couldn’t imagine anything he would like to do less. But she had endured so much over the last year and it was such a small thing. It was one day to endure. One day that might help to pay her back for everything she’d gone through for him. “I’ll be there. Just text me the time and address, okay?”

  “Good.” She sounded relieved. “I will. Don’t worry. You don’t have to bring anything, just yourself. I love you. Stay safe.”

  “I will.” He hung up the phone before she could say anything else. It was only January, but Easter was still far too close for his liking. If he was lucky, maybe he could find a job that would schedule him to work on Easter. She wouldn’t be able to complain about that, would she?

  Hunter sighed as the taxi pulled to a stop outside of the building where he lived. After paying the driver, he climbed out into the brisk winter air.

  The building was older and located in a section of the city that had once been purely industrial in nature. Now, however, the buildings had been remodeled and retrofitted into loft apartments and chic storefronts. Exposed brick, steel beams, and concrete created an artsy, industrial vibe that attracted a great deal of positive attention. Foot traffic was heavy and apartments in this area were highly desirable and hard to come by.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Kilder,” greeted the doorman as Hunter approached. “Nice to see you out and about. I hope you’re having a splendid day.”

  “Thanks, Jack,” said Hunter, forcing a smile and a nod. The doorman was probably one of the only former acquaintances that hadn’t pestered him about his memory. When he’d first returned from the hospital, Jack had greeted him and introduced himself without a second’s hesitation. It had been refreshing actually.

  “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” said Jack, holding the door for Hunter and smiling broadly.

  Hunter quickly passed inside. The lobby of the building was spacious and well apportioned. People nodded friendly greetings as they passed by one another. Hunter avoided eye contact as much as possible to try and discourage his neighbors from engaging him in conversation. He had spent far too much time retelling his story to each and every single one of them over the past few weeks. Now he just wanted to be left alone.

  He made a beeline for the elevators, bypassing his mailbox. Any letters would’ve been for the old Hunter anyway. They wouldn’t mean anything to him as he was now.

  Hunter’s loft was located on the fourth floor. Despite the fact that he couldn’t remember purchasing it, he did enjoy the aesthetic and the open layout. It still didn’t feel like home though.

  For now, it was just a place to escape from everyone and gather his thoughts.

  He advanced only a few feet into the room before some paper crunched underfoot. Looking down, he found an envelope with his name on it. No address. It had probably been shoved underneath the door.

  Hunter sighed as he picked it up and opened it. There was no note. Only a ticket to a five o'clock showing of a musical.

  He tossed the envelope and the ticket onto the kitchen counter. Going to some random musical and meeting up with some random person was not how he wanted to spend his evening. He would rather sit in the corner alone and read a book.

  If there was a bright side to this amnesia thing, it was that he could reread every single book in his extensive collection as if it were the first time all over again. The book shelves on the far side of the living room were practically sagging under the weight of all the books that had been shoved into every nook and cranny.

  Hunter took a deep breath as his stomach growled. He knew without even looking that the refrigerator was empty. There was a box of saltine crackers somewhere in the cupboards, but that was pretty much it. His last paycheck had already been used up by bills. He had a little bit of money in his bank account but resources were getting scarce.

  He dropped heavily onto the sofa and stared at the blank wall across from him. That wall had been giving him trouble ever since he’d come home from the hospital. For whatever reason, the fact that it was empty stood out to him. The rest of the apartment had personal touches on almost every wall. It was full of things that had meant something to him at one time.

  This wall, however, was empty. It stood completely blank despite the fact that the sofa and chairs were arranged with it as the focal point. It felt like something was missing, but he didn’t know what it could possibly be. A painting most likely, but it could have been anything.

  That wall felt like the rest of his life did. It was a gaping hole in which something belonged but nothing else seemed to fit. Despite his outburst and determination to move forward, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was incomplete. He couldn’t dodge the worry that he would never be complete.

  His cellphone ringtone sounded from his pocket. It was an upbeat piece of instrumental music Hunter, not surprisingly, didn’t recognize. As he dug his phone out, he wondered if that music had meant something to him or if he’d just picked it because he liked the sound.

  Hunter glanced at the caller ID. It read, “Vincent.”

  Probably just another well-wisher wanting to be helpful. Pretty much everyone in his contacts list had called him since he’d gotten out of the hospital. All of them were full of empty promises to help him if he needed it. He was tired of being polite to absolute strangers and part of him was tempted to change his phone number to stop the incessant string of calls.

  Still, he knew if he didn’t answer this Vincent’s call, the guilt would gnaw at him for the rest of the day.

  “Hello?” he said as he lifted the phone to his ear.

  “Did you get the ticket?” the person on the other end asked without any ceremony.

  Hunter frowned. “Maybe I haven’t been home yet.”

  “Of course you’re home,” said the voice with a laugh. “It takes you twenty minutes to get home from the office and from the mood you were in, I don’t think you’re out partying or getting drunk.”<
br />
  “Who are you?” Hunter wasn’t sure whether to be intrigued or creeped out by the level of detail this man knew about his life.

  “You’ve got my number in your phone. It’s Vincent.”

  “Yeah, I know that. But who are you?” The name meant nothing to him. He’d met so many people today. Any one of them could have matched the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Let’s keep it a secret for a little while longer, okay?” said Vincent with what sounded like a grin. “Why don’t you get cleaned up, dress up a little, grab that ticket, and meet me at the music hall? I’ll even buy you dinner.”

  “Look, Vincent, that’s a nice suggestion, but I’ve got other plans.”

  “Like what? Sitting in your living room and reading? You’ll have so much more fun if you come out with me. Besides, aren’t you a little bit curious?” Vincent’s tone sounded mischievous.

  Hunter weighed the decision carefully for a moment. So far this Vincent had been the first person to suggest going and doing something just for fun. He was still a complete stranger to Hunter, but maybe that was okay.

  “Look, just think of it like a blind date. Okay?” coaxed Vincent, as if reading his mind. “There’s only a couple of hours before the show. I’ll be waiting for you outside the music hall.”

  Before Hunter could answer, Vincent had already hung up the phone.

  Now the ball was in his court. What was he going to do about it?

  Chapter Two

  “Luke, are you listening to me?” Allen snapped his fingers in front of Luke’s face to try and get his attention. “This is important. Now is not the time for you to be drifting off in your own head.”

  Luke batted Allen’s hand away and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He stifled a yawn before dragging his attention back to the empty walls of the gallery they were standing in. “So, I’ll just round up some of my old stuff. We can fill this place easily,” Luke shrugged.