Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “Tell me more about it. What you do.”

  “I’m a part of a group called the Night Stalkers. We fly the best of the best our military has to offer into battle or fly into a war zone to pull them out. They need me, and I need them. The order the military life provides, the sense of control flying gives me.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “It is, but I can get our men into areas no one else would dare fly. I take those risks because the reward is so great. I can't give that up.”

  I shifted my stare from his eyes to the soft cream sheets. “I'm not enough to convince you to give it up. That's what you're saying.”

  “That's not what I'm saying and you know it.” He walked to the bathroom, rolling the condom off as he went. Seconds later, he plopped back on the bed, facing the ceiling. For a second he only popped his knuckles before tucking his inked arms behind his head. “I'm saying... hell, I don't even know what I'm saying. I need a second to process it all. Four days ago, you were a figment of my imagination, a distant diluted memory, and now you're here. Plus learning about the baby and what I caused? It's a lot to take in.” He turned his head and locked his bright eyes on mine. “Let me work a few things out before we have this conversation, okay? You've had thirteen years. At least give me a day,” he said with a slight grin.

  He was right. I pushed him to commit when the whole time I knew he was leaving at the end. What did I believe? That amazing sex and conversation would make him do a 180 on his life, make him want to make the ranch his home, giving up the career he'd worked hard for the past thirteen years?

  “What would you say if I asked you to come with me?”

  I took a shaky breath in and let it out slowly to give myself a second to formulate my answer. “I'd say... I'd say let me think about it. Uprooting my life—”

  “Which you don't like.”

  “True,” I mused and snuggled under the blankets, pulling them up to my chin to ward off the blasting AC. “But it's all I know.”

  “Doesn't make it right, or what you want.”

  “You sound like you're trying to talk me into going with you.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Are you?”

  “I don't know,” Brenton said with a sigh, like the weight of the conversation sat on his chest, restricting his breathing. “All I know is the thought of you not being close makes me want to punch something. The idea of you going back to a town that turned on you, near a dad who treats you worse than the ranch dog, makes me want to take you with me, willing or not.”

  Okay, that was kind of sweet in a kidnapping kind of way. I smirked at the ceiling before looking to him. “But it's not Texas.”

  “Texas isn't the only state you can live in.”

  The pillow molded in my grip. I flung it across the bed to smack his chest. “Watch your mouth, sir. Texas is the only state. Don't you remember learning that in Texas history?”

  “Right,” he laughed. “Kentucky is still considered the south, you know.”

  The earlier electricity that had pulsed through my body cooled. Exhaustion pulled my lids lower and lower.

  “Beks?”

  “Sleepy,” I somehow muttered before slipping into a deep slumber.

  Chapter 22

  Brenton

  THE RATTLE OF THE PHONE against the wooden side table drew my attention away from the Rangers game I watched while Beks napped. I’d glanced over at least half a dozen times in the past hour, smiling at the naked beauty beside me. Warmth bloomed in my gut each time.

  How in the hell could I leave her?

  If everyday life was like this, coming home to a woman like her, who accepted me no matter what internal battle I fought, maybe leaving the army wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

  She'd already forgiven me for so much; maybe I'd be pressing my luck thinking she'd accept all sides of me. The soldier side of Brenton Graves, the recovering addict side. Beks only saw the stable side of the man she remembered. The rich civilian. Not the man who woke up at night drenched in sweat from near-death experiences, or woke up angry at the world when the ghosts of the men we lost as I flew them toward medical care haunted my dreams. Or the man who would stare at the bottle of bourbon for hours, fighting the persistent urge to take a sip.

  Would she still want me if she saw all sides of Brenton Graves? The good and the terrible?

  No, she didn't need to know those ugly sides of me.

  Because then she'd see how broken I was. Not the strong, cocky, arrogant-as-hell man she believed.

  What if telling her everything was the final straw? Could I handle the one woman I wanted more than life itself walking away?

  Looking away, I snagged my phone and swiped the screen open.

  Kyle: Bradley doesn't want you involved. Said he wouldn't give me the names of his suppliers.

  Lips pressed into a thin line, I glanced to the still-sleeping Beks. I told her I'd handle it before I left. No way would that dumbass brother of hers stand in the way of protecting her.

  Me: Give me his number.

  Seconds later, Bradley's contact information flicked across the screen.

  Me: Give me their names and information. Now. I won't allow those fuckers to be anywhere near my property.

  Me: Don't give me that shit of you handling it. I saw you yesterday. You can barely fucking walk.

  Me: Take the out I'm giving you.

  Me: You won't like the alternative. From them. Or me.

  Bradley: These fuckers are no joke, rich boy.

  Bradley: I’ll set up the meet, but I'm not giving you their information.

  Me: Fine. Set it up.

  An inning later, the Rangers still down by five runs, my phone buzzed on the bed.

  Bradley: Tonight. 1 a.m. I'll drop you a pin of the meeting location.

  Bradley: Sure as hell hope you know what you're doing.

  Me: You're welcome.

  Bradley: They want cash.

  Me: They'll get cash that I wire them. I'm not a fucking moron.

  Me: And your sister stays out of this. I'll do the meet. You keep her busy.

  Bradley: If you haven't fucking noticed, asshole, she has a mind of her own and is pretty damn smart. She'll figure out what you're doing behind her back and rip your balls off.

  Bradley: I'm not kidding either. I've seen her castrate enough animals. She knows how to do it.

  My balls reflexively pulled closer to my body.

  Don't worry, boys. She likes you too much to rip you off.

  I think.

  Me: I'll handle her.

  Bradley: Oh hell, man. You have a death wish.

  Bradley: You better hope she doesn't ever read that shit.

  Bradley: Beka isn't one to be handled.

  Almost on cue, Beks gave a soft, happy groan and stretched out beneath the coves.

  Me: I'll be there tonight. Confirm it.

  I dropped the phone to the floor and shifted across the king-size bed to curl against her warm, naked body. Her honey brown eyes fluttered open, and a small smile spread up her cheeks.

  I sucked in a breath. Bedhead, cheeks flushed, and happy, this woman was a dream. I nuzzled her shoulder and bit the back of her neck. No doubt she felt my rock-hard dick pressing into her thigh, eager for another round.

  A pounding knock at the door caused both our heads to lift and turn toward the sound.

  “Expecting someone?” she asked, still half asleep. “I'm not down with sharing, so you know. None of that ménage shit.”

  Content with ignoring whoever was at the door, I covered her body with mine, nestling my dick between her ass cheeks. “I'm not sharing you, baby. You're mine and mine only. I'll break the fucker who tries to touch you.”

  “So possessive,” she grumbled with a smirk.

  “You love it.”

  “I—” Another impatient knock from the door cut her off. “Dammit, B, just go see who it is, would you?”

  “It's either my dad,” I said into her dark hair,
taking a deep sniff of the coconut scent, “or....”

  With her elbow pressed into the bed, she hauled me off her back. “Who?”

  “No one, baby,” I groaned, grabbing her waist to keep her on the bed. “It's no one. Just leave it.”

  At my next tug, she wiggled out of my loose grip with a mischievous smile. “The suspense is killing me,” she joked, then slid my T-shirt over her head. On her tiptoes, she sashayed out of the bedroom with a hint of her perfect ass peeking out beneath the black tee.

  At least there wasn't a place for her to hide a gun dressed like that.

  In the distance, the deadbolt snapped back and the door swooshed open. Low, muffled voices filtered down the hall as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. A familiar deep one shot a surge of rage into my blood.

  Dad.

  “Fuck.” My pants only halfway up, I strode out of the bedroom. By the time I reached where the two faced off in the entryway, the jeans were loose around my hips, though still unbuttoned.

  Beks stood a foot from the threshold, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at Dad. He looked amused at the fury behind her eyes. There was also a gleam in his eye that said he'd already mentally undressed my girl in the thirty-second span.

  “What do you want?” I barked as I pulled the mostly naked Beks behind my back.

  “I called to schedule the jet, but they said it was already here and you were headed back tomorrow too. So here I am.” He shrugged and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. To anyone else, it looked like he wanted to appear casual, but the way his gaze kept bouncing behind me, it was a ploy to get a better visual on her.

  I shot him a look of warning and turned to the furious beauty. “Go get some clothes on.”

  “I'm fine,” she said, shifting that glare to me.

  “I'm not. Go.” Not giving her a chance to argue, I turned back to Dad. “That doesn't explain why you're here.”

  With an annoyed huff, he pushed off the doorframe and shouldered past into the loft. I slammed the door shut and turned to stalk after him.

  He paused in the living room and slowly turned to take in the place. “Haven't changed anything since Caleb, I see.”

  “Why would I? This isn't my home.”

  “Right,” he mocked. “Forgot you're some government grunt playing soldier. I'll never understand why you left all this.” He waved his hands around the cold loft. “Left your brother. Well, we saw how that turned out for him.”

  “You son of a bitch” came an angry voice at my back. Both of our heads whipped to her. “Fuck you for saying he had anything to do with Caleb's death. If anyone in the room is to blame, it's you.”

  “I hope for you she's that feisty in bed. More fun to control,” Dad said with a chuckle before his attention swung back to me. “We need to talk. Alone.”

  I widened my stance and crossed my arms over my bare chest with a smirk. “She can hear whatever you have to say.”

  The hate-filled look he shot Beks drew a warning growl from deep in my gut.

  “The attorneys called. Said you were asking about some old legal documents.”

  I arched a brow in response. With Dad, fewer words were better in case he was attempting to corner you with your own.

  “Drop it,” he stated with force.

  “Why?”

  “Fucking do it, son. For once in your damn life, do what I tell you to do and don't give me any shit about it.” Dad fell on to the couch and leaned back like he owned the place, stretching his arms out wide across the back.

  “No.” Now more than ever, it was clear some shady shit went down in those hours after the wreck. Why, I had no idea, but if Dad was involved and nervous about what I'd uncover, it wasn't good.

  “It's for your damn good. You and your ranch hand whore.”

  I didn't think, just acted. Two long strides put me in front of the couch. Instead of beating the shit out of him sitting down, I fisted his shirt in my left hand and hauled him upright. His eyes went wide and wild as realization dawned.

  The first punch flung him back so hard that his shirt slipped from between my fingers. Dad stumbled back, his knees buckling when they slammed into the glass coffee table. The piercing shriek of glass shattering resounded through the loft.

  Blood streamed from Dad's nose as he pushed up to all fours before falling back into the sharp shards.

  “Get the fuck out,” I somehow said through my rage-locked jaw.

  “She's a gold-digging whore. Can't you see that? Hell, even her father saw it.”

  A loud gasp sounded in my ears just before my bare foot connected with his rib cage. With a pain-filled moan, he rolled to his back, chest heaving.

  Not giving a damn about the glass, I picked up his feet and dragged him across the living room. After depositing his moaning ass in the hall, I slammed the door and turned the deadbolt.

  Anger still boiling, I stormed into the empty living room.

  “Beks?” I said before scanning the bedroom. “Rebeka.”

  Turning a corner, I stared down the dark hallway that led to Caleb's side. I hadn't stepped foot in that section of the loft since my return and wasn't planning on it now.

  A flicker of movement on the balcony caught my eye. The tight breath I'd held as I searched released slow and controlled.

  “Hey.” I stepped out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing, mirroring her. “You okay?”

  “That?” She huffed and hung her head. A strong gust of wind blew her long hair across her face, keeping me from reading her features. “It's nothing I haven’t heard before. After you left and people found out about us, about the baby, the whore name was as common as my actual one.”

  My knuckles whitened as my grip tightened on the metal railing.

  “It's why I had to get out of there. I had to leave it all behind, you know? Leave a father who resented me, leave a town that turned on me, leave a brother who was the town drug middleman. Mostly I had to leave our memories. That ranch, every square inch of the land and star-filled sky, reminded me of us.”

  “I'm sorry.” Even though the words were heartfelt, they fell flat. Being sorry did nothing for her now, nothing to repair the damage I inflicted in the past.

  “Some days, simple moments of seeing a mom and her child, or even seeing the natural motherly nature in animals, it still hurts. For years, guilt pulled me under on a daily basis. Then it turned to weekly, then every so often.” The wind at her back pushed all her hair toward me, wrapping my face in a coconut-scented blanket. “Never once did I regret us.”

  “I don't deserve someone like you. Don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

  Her smile pulled at my heart, my breath catching. “That's what's amazing about forgiveness, B. You don't have a say in it. Forgiveness is a gift you have no control over. And honestly, forgiving you is less work than harboring the hate.”

  “What can I give you? Name it and it's yours.” I'd give her every last penny if she asked.

  “If you have to ask”—her smile faltered—“then what I want, you're not ready to give.”

  Me.

  Only this beautiful, selfless woman would want me instead of all the things thirty million could buy.

  She sighed and turned to lean her back against the rail. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the living room through the large windows. “What a mess.”

  “I'll call someone to clean it up.”

  Her head dropped back with a loud laugh. “Of course you will.”

  “Hey, something came up and we need to head back tonight. Sorry to cut this short.”

  She shrugged and closed her eyes. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just some things to handle before I leave.”

  A single nod and Beks shoved off the railing. At the door, she turned back with her brows pulled together in a thoughtful look. “Based off your dad not wanting you to look into the files, I’m willing to bet he had more to do with breaking us apart than you.”

  I nodded in agreem
ent and followed her inside. “I want to see those documents. Come on, let's go call them.”

  Chapter 23

  Rebeka

  BEING A MEMBER OF THE mile-high club wasn't something on my bucket list. I mean, who thought they would ever have the chance? Wonder if I got bonus points for being initiated on a private jet.

  “What are you smiling about?” Brenton asked from behind the wheel of my truck. Or was it his truck? Our truck?

  “Do I get a badge or something?”

  “What?” he laughed.

  “You know, the mile-high club, what we just did on the plane—twice. Do I get a badge? Or is there maybe some secret handshake I get to learn?”

  Instead of answering, he shook his head and smiled out the windshield.

  With a smile of my own, I watched out the window at the diminishing lights of Midland. The day was perfect. Well, minus his dad showing up. And the attorney not having anything new for Brenton. And I guess coming back early was a killjoy too. But besides all that, it was a perfect day.

  Because it was just us.

  I snuck a side glance his way. One wrist rested on top of the wheel as he leaned back in the driver seat, relaxed. Smiling. Brenton Graves was an enigma. A military-tatted badass with millions in the bank and enough family drama to rival any reality show.

  If I had to guess, the man sitting beside me was the true Brenton Graves. The man his dad had shoved so far away with drugs and women when he and Caleb were kids. We were both a little broken in that way. Never been loved unconditionally. And maybe, based on that slight defect, might not be able to give it.

  I was running back to the man who had already hurt me once, and I knew it would happen again. What did that say about me?

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” I asked, wanting to deflect my deep internal thoughts.

  “Honestly?”

  The leather groaned as I swirled in the seat to face him. “Always.”

  “Yeah. I don't know what I'll do if Dad gets the ranch. I want to think Pappy wouldn't leave our family land to him, but it's tradition, what our family’s done for generations.”