by Jenn Hype
“That’s great, right?”
“I guess, yeah, I mean of course it is. It’s just that...a lot of what I’m remembering doesn’t really match up with the few details I’ve been told about myself and my past. Ever since I stopped taking the sleeping pills Mark prescribed me, I’ve been dreaming but I’m almost certain they’re memories. Now they’re coming back to me during the day, and it feels like Deja vu, and sometimes I think I’m just going crazy because I’m not even sure if the memories are accurate.”
Wyatt looks a little forlorn when I stop talking, a confusing expression to be wearing, if you ask me.
“So you haven’t told anyone that you’ve been remembering? Not even Keegan or Mark?”
“No, Mark got mad at the idea of me not taking my pills so I just started avoiding him, and I can’t make sense of any of it enough to really explain them to anyone. A lot of it’s blurry, just like a dream, so who knows if it’s even true.”
“Well you need to try, Brailey,” Wyatt says as he opens his bedside drawer, pulling out a little notebook and pen. “Just start describing what you can remember, and maybe we can piece things together. I’ll help you do it.”
I swear I’m getting a migraine when I finally finish telling him everything an hour later. His jaw is clenched and he looks angry, the way it was the entire time I was talking. At this point it’s starting to piss me off. He was the one who insisted I do this to begin with, and the longer he just sits there staring down at his notebook and not talking, the more pissed off I get.
He doesn’t even bother to look at me when he finally speaks. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” I ask, confused. He doesn’t answer me, so I yank one of his hands away, getting his attention. He faces me, and I can’t even begin to decipher the emotions raging in him right now. I see anguish, regret, pain...none of which I understand.
“For everything. That you’re going through all of this. That I’ve been acting like a raging asshole since we met. That there’s nothing I can say or do to help you in this situation. Mostly, though, I’m sorry that I can’t do this.”
It takes a second for his last words to register, and when they do, I jerk out of his hold and jump to my feet. “Can’t do what, exactly.” I can see in his eyes that he feels horrible for saying it, but I’m too angry to care. He could have at least waited until tomorrow to tell me he was no longer interested in me, once I’d finally gotten some sleep and had a little caffeine in me or something.
“Brailey, let me explain,” Wyatt begs, reaching out for me, but I jerk away from him.
“Don’t touch me. I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” He doesn’t try to talk to me as I dress, and I’m not sure if I’m thankful or pissed off that he’s not trying harder. Whatever, he’s obviously not worth it, which is painfully clear when he doesn’t even bother coming after me after I slam his bedroom door behind me.
Wyatt
I am such a fucking idiot.
I panicked. I should have stopped things before they got out of control, instead of waiting until I unloaded my dick in her to try and be noble. Now I’m just an asshole. This guilt is eating me alive and it’s making me do shit that is going to ruin me. I’m going to give her about thirty seconds, long enough to make it to Keegan’s, since there’s nowhere else she could possibly go without her purse and phone which is sitting next to me. After that, I’m dragging her ass back up to my apartment so we can talk. Screw this. I’m coming clean.
Hearing about Bryce...I don’t know the nature of their relationship, but I was led to believe it went beyond professional. Her memories so far confirm it. I could tell she was holding back when she described him, it was written all over her face. What happens when she gets her full memory back? Will I lose her? Am I a selfish prick for worrying about that?
There’s a pretty good chance she’s going to hate me once she knows the truth anyway, memories or not.
No matter the consequences, time is up. I need to make a call, and then I’m going after Brailey. I’m going to fight for Brailey.
Chapter Fourteen
“Brailey!”
How in the actual hell is this really happening right now?
“Mark,” I say, spinning on my heel to face the very last person I want to see right now. “It’s the middle of the night and you were supposed to be gone already.”
He doesn’t look the least bit happy to see me. That last dream flashes before my eyes, and I recognize the look in his eyes now. It’s the same one he had that day. My instincts kick in and I turn to run away, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me back, putting his hand to my throat and holding me up against the brick wall of the building.
“You think I’m the enemy, and I get that. From your standpoint, it probably seems that way. But you’ll find out soon enough that I’m not the one you should be afraid of.”
With that he shoves off the wall, squeezing my neck a little as he goes, and I cough and sputter a little as I try to catch my breath. He thrusts a large manila envelope into my hands, my body instinctively gripping it against my stomach, and then he backs away.
“It’s just a matter of time now, Brailey,” he calls out before disappearing into the shadows.
It would probably be smarter to head back inside before digging into this envelope, but I can’t wait. Immediately I recognize it as the manila envelope that came in the mail the day my apartment was broken into. Not that I can identify every piece of mail that comes through my mailbox every day, but it’s not often that one as huge and conspicuous as this one gets mixed in with my pile of bills and junk mail.
The seal is already broken, because of course Mark helped himself to the contents after destroying everything I own.
“Brailey!”
Motherfucker. Can I not catch a break? The answer to that would be no, because Keegan is not alone.
“What Keegan?” I snap defensively, aiming my frustration at the wrong person. She’s unfazed.
“Come with me,” she orders, pulling me towards the building before stopping to face Wyatt. “You are not allowed to come with us. I don’t care what the hell you do or where the hell you go, but it won’t be with us.”
The jerk doesn’t even put up a fight, just stands there and lets us walk away. As soon as the door to Keegan’s apartment closes behind us, I’m tearing into this freaking envelope.
“What the shit, B? Quit yelling, I’m right freaking here. Geez.” I crumble onto the couch, my eyes scanning the same lines over and over but not really absorbing anything I read. “What’s that?” Keegan asks, yanking the pictures out of my hands.
I cannot believe what’s in front of me, it can’t be right. There is no possible way this is true. It has to be fabricated. Has to be.
“What the hell is this, Brailey?” Keegan asks as her eyes continue to scan the contents in much the same way mine were seconds ago. “Someone’s been watching you? What the actual fuck?”
“I...I don’t…” I stutter, not able to form a sentence, my mind still reeling. I feel like my skin is crawling, and I feel exposed in a way I’ve never felt before. How many more pictures are there? How long has this been going on? Mothershitter! There are pictures of me taken from INSIDE my apartment!
“Jesus H...Brailey, this is crazy. You need to call the cops. There are pictures with me in them, too. Ones of you the night at the club, of you walking into work...this is...wow...” She trails off as she continues to flip through the photos, but I don’t bother responding. What the hell do I say? “Holy shit, Brailey,” Keegan’s hands are trembling, and I can tell she’s as freaked out as I am. Maybe more.
“We should go confront Wyatt,” Keegan says, starting to stand.
“No!” I yell, yanking her back down to the couch. “Look at these, Keegan. It’s bad enough that Mark has been stalking me, but him catching Wyatt taking stalker pictures of me too is just...this is just too messed up for words. Who the hell is Wyatt?” I mutter to myself.
“Th
is is just...Brailey,” Keegan trails off. I mean, what is there to say?
Dozens...maybe a hundred pictures of me. Then the pictures change. “Holy shit!” I almost drop the stack, my hands trembling. “These are photos of me and Shaun. I...I remember these. How would someone get these? All this stuff...we...we had it stored…” I know I’m not making sense, but this stuff is coming back to me real time, and it’s hard to process and talk about it at the same time.
“This is Shaun?” Keegan’s never seen a picture of Shaun. I didn’t think I had any. Everything in my house burned in the fire, and of course I didn’t remember that we had some of our mementos stored in a little unit until just now either.
“I can’t...I just feel like my brain is overloading with information.” Rubbing my temples, I try - and fail - to make sense of the flooding of images.
“Why is there a news article in here? Do you know someone named Bryce?”
I grab the cut out news article so quickly it almost tears.
FBI Agent Bryce Lawson Dies in Car Collision
It was reported that FBI Agent Bryce Lawson was driving down South Main when he lost control of his vehicle. The car veered off the road, flipping twice and landing in a ditch before catching fire. We are told the flames spread quickly once they touched the leaking gasoline, and the vehicle went up in flames before emergency personnel were able to arrive on the scene. Mr. Lawson is not from the area, and when inquired the reason to his visit, the FBI declined to respond.
“Brailey, who is Bryce?” Keegan asks softly, but her voice sounds miles away.
~
“Come back to bed, Bryce!”
I can hear him laugh around his toothbrush. Yes, I sound exceptionally whiny, but those three orgasms he just gave me were exceptionally amazing.
“You know I can’t, B-ray,” he says with a mouth full of toothpaste. He hocks and spits, then turns to grin at me with toothpaste on his lip, and he’s still the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“You’re supposed to be off right now; you shouldn’t have to do a stupid video conference with your boss.” Yep. Only known each other a couple weeks and only had sex for the first time a few days ago, and I already sound like a stage-five clinger.
Bryce wipes the remaining toothpaste from his face before placing a teasing, torturous kiss on my lips.
“You asshole,” I say as I hit him over the head with a pillow when he tries to pull away much too soon.
“You’re good for a guy’s ego,” he teases.
“Whatever. Go do your stupid call then get your ass back here. I actually have a day off and you’re going to do that thing with your tongue again that-”
“Ew, c’mon sis, I can hear you!” Shaun shouts from the hallway. Oops, forgot the door was open.
“Sorry!” I call out just before Shaun sticks his head in the door.
“If this asshole is going to be living here much longer, I think we should start charging him rent.”
Bryce puts a mock chokehold on Shaun and gives him a noogie. It always pisses Shaun off when he does that - or at least he acts like it does, but secretly I think he likes it. Other than me, Bryce is the first person to show true affection towards Shaun. It’s pretty crazy how quickly they grew on each other. Then again, while I’m working my ass off, they’re sitting in my house playing video games all day.
“You better shut up or I’ll start charging you rent!”
Laying back in the bed and staring at the ceiling, I let their laughter filter through from the living room and wash over me, bringing me a happiness I’m not sure I’ve ever really known.
~
“Brailey,” Keegan says less patiently.
“Sorry. Memory,” I offer as an explanation. “I...I’m pretty sure I loved him.”
“Who?”
My stunned and suddenly very teary eyes meet Keegan’s. “Bryce.”
Wyatt
I’m trying. I’m seriously trying to give her space. Okay, not physically, since I’m standing right outside Keegan’s apartment door waiting for...hell, I don’t know what I’m waiting for. For me to grow a pair of fucking balls and stop pussy footing around the truth.
I just got off the phone with my boss, who gave me order to bring Brailey in. He left it up to me to decide whether or not I want to tell her where she’s going ahead of time. Fucking thank you for putting that on my shoulders. Either I potentially cause her a lot of confusion and emotional turmoil by telling her now, risking making my life really fucking difficult because it most likely will end up in me dragging her to the car. Or I can wait and let them spring a big ass surprise on her last minute and risk her never talking to me again for keeping something so huge from her.
“What are you going to do, Brailey?”
Keegan’s voice travels through the door. I’ve not been eavesdropping, but sitting right outside means I overheard a little here and there. Not really enough to mean anything, and I’ve been using the excuse of it being my ‘job’ to justify spying like an asshole.
“Do about what, Key? He’s dead. It doesn’t matter if I loved him or not.”
Shit. Of all the things to overhear…
“What about Wyatt?” I silently give Keegan an ‘atta girl’. Yeah, what about Wyatt?
“What about him? It’s not like I’m in love with him. After that asshole move he pulled tonight...I don’t know, Keegan. I just need to get my head on straight.”
I can’t take it anymore. I can’t leave, but I can’t stand here and listen to this. Pulling Brailey’s phone out of my pocket, I knock on Keegan’s door and hope they buy my piss poor of an excuse to be bothering them at this hour.
~
I feel like a bitch. I shouldn’t, I know that. Doesn’t change anything.
Standing here while Keegan tears into Wyatt, not doing a damn thing to help either one of them, I play spectator to the only two people I have remaining in my life fighting...because of me.
“If you would just let me talk-” Wyatt tries to interject.
“Why? Why would I let you talk? So you can just screw up even worse than you already have? You’re lucky I haven’t kicked you in the nuts yet, but consider that a warning. I’m about two seconds from making sure you never have children.”
Wyatt’s hands fly to his crotch, and I wince in sympathetic hypothetical pain for him.
“I know I’m on both of your shit lists, but the fact is that Brailey isn’t safe right now. You can hate me if you want, but you should know that I’m going to be parked right outside this apartment if you need me. I just wanted to deliver Brailey her phone and let you guys know that you could sleep easy tonight, okay?”
And just like that, the wall I was trying to build around my heart crumbles all the way back down. I need him. I hate him for making me feel that way, but I do. I need comforting arms and the feel of safety, and as if reading my thoughts, Wyatt marches over and gives me exactly what I need.
“I’m so sorry, Brailey. I never meant to hurt you. There’s so much I need to tell you, and I promise I will, but I can’t stand the thought of you being angry with me. Of you thinking I meant I didn’t want to be with you, because like it or not,” Wyatt pulls back to look me in the eye, “I’m falling for you. It wasn’t the plan. Nothing about you and this whole situation was part of the plan, but I can’t help how I feel. I don’t want to lie to you any longer.”
Hot tears stream down my cheeks. “Yeah well, you weren’t part of my plan either.” Wyatt places a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth before pulling back enough to face Keegan.
“I’ll explain everything on the way,” he says with an authoritative voice, “but I’m sorry to say, you both are going to have to come with me.”
~
“I can’t believe I agreed to go along with this,” Keegan mutters from the backseat.
She’s been less than cooperative since Wyatt stood hovering over her while she packed a bag. It didn’t help when he kept making her put stuff back. Apparently
wherever we’re going doesn’t require flat irons or heels.
“Seriously, we’ve been on the road for a half hour. You said you would explain on the way. We’re on the way. Get to explaining,” Keegan orders as she leans forward and inserts herself between the two front seats.
“We’re on our way to see my boss.”
“Okay, Mr. Mysterious, who is your boss? I thought you did websites or some crap?”
Wyatt shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, that was a lie. One of many.” He winces, probably expecting me to freak out. Honestly? I figured. I don’t think there’s a whole lot that could surprise me at this point.
“Well, go on already,” Keegan presses.
“I actually work for the FBI.”
Okay, well maybe that surprises me a little.
“Shit, this is really hard to explain.” It’s hard, but I wait patiently while he runs his hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “I guess I should start from the beginning. Bryce was an agent in my division, though we never worked together. I’m told he came out here to check on someone he’d rescued from a past mission, some kind of hunch she was in trouble. She was a patient at Mayford, but when he got there, he was told she’d been transferred and they wouldn’t tell him where.
“He called his boss, who is now my boss, and asked for help. Problem is, without cause, it’s not really our jurisdiction to just go looking people up. My boss, always a stickler for the rules, told Bryce there wasn’t anything the bureau could do to help. He lucked out and someone from inside Mayford overheard him looking for Mayra - the patient - and offered to help.”
“Me,” I interject, Wyatt nodding in confirmation.
“Here’s where it gets messy. Supposedly Bryce got a call from her - I mean, you - the day he...died.” He struggles on the last word, like it’s hard for him to get out. “I guess you’d found some information to help, though you didn’t say on the message what it was. The problem is that Bryce was in that car accident before you were able to pass along the information. When you lost your memory, whatever information you found was lost along with it.”
