Memories of Us: A Second Chance, Amnesia Romance Novel

by Kennedy L. Mitchell

  “Not that,” I hissed. “Brenton.”

  One man sucker punched Brenton in the gut while two others held back his arms. The entire bad guy crew had a good laugh while each got a hit in. Still, Brenton didn't attempt to break free.

  “What’s going on?” Ryder asked between crunchy bites.

  “Shh.”

  “Wish this reality show came with subtitles.”

  My heart ratcheted against my chest when one man drew his pistol and pointed it at Brenton’s chest.

  “Shit's about to get real. Hand me the ammo.”

  The bullets rattled in the box from her trembling hand as she handed it over. “What can I do?”

  “Calm me down. I can't shoot like this.” Settling back, I raised the gun to line up the scope. “My hands are fucking shaking.”

  Ryder rambled about work, her parents, life. With each second, each word, my heartbeat steadied and my nerves quietened. When Kyle's first bullet went through the passenger door of a truck, I was ready.

  Taking aim, I focused on the driver-side window and pulled the trigger. Glass shattered less than a second later, echoing through the night. I only paused long enough to make sure our distraction was noticed.

  I shot out window after window while Kyle peppered the metal sides with the AR from his vantage point.

  The men shouted, and the one holding the gun to Brenton spun around, firing frantically into the dark. Brenton collapsed to the ground when the two men dropped him to run toward a truck and leap in the bed as it disappeared down the road. Within seconds the other truck had roared off in the same direction, leaving only my truck's headlights pouring through the night.

  Rifle in hand, I raced through the dust and dirt toward Brenton. At the sound of my approach, he pushed off the ground, only to fall back again. Furious green eyes locked with mine the second I stepped into the bright beams.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he coughed before spitting a mix of blood and saliva to the dirt.

  “It looks like saving your dumb ass is what,” I retorted with a smile, which fell when he spit another mouthful of blood to the ground. “Face the beams so I can check your face.”

  “I'm not one of your damn animals. I'm fine.”

  “You sure? Because you're acting like a jackass right now.” I smirked down at his snarl. “Get it? Jackass? Donkey?”

  Stone-faced, he turned into the light. Like I'd done with Bradley just days earlier, I pushed the emotion aside to focus on the task at hand. Not once did he flinch or balk at my prodding fingers along his injuries. Besides a busted lip and swollen cheek, no other wounds were visible on his face, though who knew what was broken or cracked beneath this shirt. He’d be sore for days, that was certain.

  “Besides being a dumbass, I think you're fine.” I stood and extended a hand to help him up. He groaned in pain as I put my full body weight into yanking him to his feet. A loud thump reverberated through the still night as he fell against the truck for support.

  I turned to Kyle and Ryder who’d just walked up staying silent during our spat. “You guys go ahead. I'll drive him back.”

  “You sure?” Ryder asked.

  I nodded. “I still have my rifle and SIG if they come back. Thanks for helping.”

  “Always, you know that,” Kyle said with a wave. “Call us if you need anything.”

  “Hey,” Brenton gritted out with a wince. “Thanks.”

  “We would've come with you from the beginning,” Ryder said with her arms folded across her chest. “Why did you come into this alone?”

  His eyes shifted to stare into the darkness. “It's my fight. From what I could gather from Bradley, most of the debt was what Caleb owed before he died. I didn't want to drag anyone else into this mess. Especially not her.”

  Her.

  Me.

  “You really are a dumbass.” Ryder chuckled. “She”—she pointed to me but kept her glare locked on him—“is the best thing that’s happened to you, and you're doing nothing about it.”

  “I was trying to protect her,” he said, then took an unsteady step toward me. “You've been through enough because of me—”

  “Oh stop it with that shit,” I yelled. “You don't get to decide what I'm protected from or what I'm not involved in. Leaving me out of this wasn't your decision to make.”

  The distant howl of coyotes filled our stiff silence. Instead of sticking around to hear what other bullshit he would use as an excuse, I waved to Kyle, told Ryder I'd call her later, and climbed into the truck.

  Minutes ticked by with the engine idling as the other three stood in the headlights, talking too low for me to understand what they were discussing. With a shake of hands, the small group disbanded and Brenton turned, pinning me with an uncertain gaze through the windshield before shuffling to the truck. He grunted as he hauled himself in and slammed the passenger door.

  Turning the AC on full blast, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

  Fine. Not talking about it, then.

  I shifted the truck into Drive and headed home.

  “I'm sorry,” he said halfway back. “I really thought I had it handled. And I don't want you anywhere near those bastards. They don't know you exist, and we're going to keep it that way. They'd find some way to use you as leverage if they did.”

  Ah, so there it was. It wasn't about putting me in danger tonight but the long-term effects that he was concerned about. When he put it that way, it did make sense.

  “I get it, I really do. You're a dude, a soldier whose main focus is protecting others. But you don't get to make that decision for me. All you had to do was tell me why you didn't want me out there and we would've figured it out. I let you boss me around in bed, and I love it, but everywhere else, I make my own decisions. I'm not some simpering Dallas socialite.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  A small smile tugged at my lips as we pulled up the long drive. “I'll help you inside.”

  Halfway up the steps, he wobbled and swayed. To prevent him from tumbling back down, I ducked a shoulder under his arm and pulled him close. Inside, we bounced off the hall walls a few times before making it to his room.

  “Hope Mrs. Hathway didn't hear us,” I said through gritted teeth. Damn, the man was heavy.

  “She's gone. I fired her this evening when we got back.”

  Hell. Was it bad that I wanted to say thank you?

  Still processing that bit of information and how I should feel, I guided him toward the bed.

  “No, I need a shower.” Redirecting, we shuffled as one to the large en suite bathroom. The marble countertops and white tile floors gleamed when I flicked the bright lights on. While I readied the shower, he leaned against the counter and examined his face in the mirror. “Not bad. Not good. But not terrible.”

  “Could've been worse.”

  “But it wasn't thanks to you and your posse.”

  I snorted and tugged the black T-shirt over his head. Those tatted arms fell to his side, then reached back, pulling me flush against his hot skin. With a relieved sigh, I melted against him and pressed my cheek to his back.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Thank you for protecting my brother,” I whispered. “Is he... I mean, are we good, or will they come back?”

  “We're good. I'll wire them the money tomorrow. I made it clear about what I'd do if they stepped foot on my property again.”

  “Was that before or after they treated you as their personal punching bag?”

  He squeezed me closer. “Before. I think they were trying to prove a point.”

  “Which was?”

  “That they would do what I asked, but it wasn't because they were scared of me.”

  I tensed at the anger in his tone. “Should they be?”

  “If they get anywhere near you, yes. I want you to know something.” He flipped around, resting his ass on the counter, and pulled me against his chest. “If anyone could make me want to try, want to figure out a real relationship,
it'd be you. But I'm not there. I know you've waited, but there’s still a lot of shit about me you don't know, that I don't want you to know. What if that’s the final straw in you walking away?”

  Instead of responding, I kissed his chest above his heart and pulled at his belt. The soft cotton of my T-shirt slid up my back as he tugged it over my head. With a flick of his fingers, the bra’s thick band released from around my ribs and the straps slid down my arms. Chest to chest, skin to skin, he angled my chin to capture my lips with his. He kissed me soft and slow, pouring every ounce of emotion that he couldn't verbalize into me.

  I toed off one boot and then the other while he did the same.

  Face cradled between his hands, I gave up control and savored the way he made me feel small. Powerful but small. An intoxicating combination that only he could brew.

  Making quick work of my jeans, he shoved them and my underwear down my thighs until they puddled on the floor.

  He flinched when I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “Are you okay?” I pulled back and scanned his chest. “Does something hurt?”

  “Get in the shower.” For not moving immediately, I was rewarded with a quick smack to my right ass cheek. “Now.”

  The heat and longing behind his green eyes pushed me back a step, a bolt of excitement and warmth settling between my thighs, building on the heat already there. The shower’s rocked floor massaged the sore soles of my feet, and the warm water soothed the tension of the night from my tight shoulders.

  At the opening of the glass door, a waft of cold air prickled my already warmed skin. Standing directly across the small enclosure, Brenton lazily perused up and down my naked body. Hand firmly wrapped around himself, he groaned and stepped to meet me under the hot spray.

  The water poured over his dark hair, cascading over his broad shoulders and defined chest. Unable to resist, I reached through the steady stream to skim my fingertips down his rippled abs and back up, sliding my hands over his shoulders and down his strong arms.

  “You leave tomorrow?” I asked, not much louder than the hiss and patter of the shower.

  “Yes, after the meeting with the attorneys. I'm due back on base at 0800 the next day, so I need to get there tomorrow night. The army doesn't do late.”

  Again I caressed up and down his arms, memorizing every muscle, every curve for future fantasies. “You feel good about the progress we've made with your 'episodes'?” I molded my naked body against his and hugged him tightly.

  “I think I have a lot of shit to still sift through, but you've given me the tools to work through it all. You were the key, and now with all these memories... I feel like I have a piece of me back.”

  A tear slipped down my cheek, disappearing in the streams of water flowing down my face. “Good. Glad I could help.”

  “You didn't just help, Beks.” With two fingers beneath my chin, he tilted my faced up to meet his searching gaze. “You saved me.”

  My chin trembled at the force required to hold back the tears that wanted to fall. Dropping my head, I pressed my forehead against his chest, my shoulders shaking with a silent sob.

  This was goodbye, our last time together, maybe ever.

  But he'd given a piece of me back.

  And I'd done the same for him.

  Even a little broken, I was more whole right then than in the past thirteen years.

  He did that, but I still had to protect me. Protect my heart knowing he could shred it beyond repair.

  “I love you, Brenton Graves,” I choked out. “I don't want to be without you, but I won't beg you to stay either.”

  Chapter 25

  Brenton

  I LOVED IT WHEN SHE begged, but not in this case. She was right. Someone like her deserved a man who knew his place was at her side, giving her what she needed on a daily basis.

  Not me.

  Not with my addictions and fucked-up family.

  Someone better, less jaded, able to return the deep, soul-cleaning love she offered.

  That person was not me, but still, I couldn't let her go. Which made me a complete asshole since I was leaving. But I was Brenton Graves; it was who I was and what would be listed on my tombstone someday.

  Her dark hair slid through my fingers as I pushed it behind her ear.

  “I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you deserve,” I whispered. Not giving her a chance to respond, I pressed my lips to her neck and peppered kisses along her jaw until I reached her lips.

  Fingers tangled in her hair, I pulled her closer. Beks’s nails scratched up my back before wrapping around my neck and digging in.

  One long, muscular leg hitched around my hip and urged me harder against her with a heel to my ass. There was no holding back my groan of approval from passing through my lips to hers. Guiding her back against the stone wall, I grabbed each cheek and hauled her higher. Instantly the other leg wrapped around my hip, spreading her wide.

  “Condom,” I mumbled against her collarbone on my descent to her lush breasts.

  “Not on me,” she groaned.

  “I'll go—”

  “Don't you fucking dare. I'm good. You?”

  I retreated and stared at her, chest heaving from the restraint needed to not push into her that second, and from the twinges of pain radiating from bruises gained during my earlier altercation.

  “I'm good, but we don't—”

  “Now, Brenton. Now,” she pleaded, flexing her hips to push her warm center up and down my cock.

  “Fuck,” I gritted out before nipping at her hard nipple.

  “That's the idea.” Weaving her fingers into my hair, she pushed my face harder against her breast. Instead of giving in to her urging, I looked up until her attention was on me, cheeks flushed, eyes hooded. Damn, the woman was gorgeous.

  “This isn't fucking,” I said. Claiming both wrists in one hand, I pinned them against the stone wall above her head. Each inch I slid into her tightness was torture and fucking incredible. The water washed away the sweat beading along my forehead and temples. “This is me showing you what I can’t say.”

  Brushing my lips against hers, I held her gaze as I pushed in all the way. Tears welled in her lower lids before spilling over the edges and streaming down her cheeks. First the left, then the right, I kissed away each tear. Each drop of salt water against my lips was like pouring it on an open wound. My heart ached to tell her what she wanted, needed to hear. The truth my heart hurt to say.

  Taking our time, we moved slow, savoring this last time together. When she squeezed me, finding her release, I devoured her scream, loving the feel of her entire body convulsing as I shuddered into her.

  Keeping her legs wrapped around my hips, me still inside her, I pressed my forehead against hers as I calmed my erratic breath.

  “Goodbye, Brenton,” she whispered.

  “Stay with me,” I said, nearly pleading. “One more night. Stay with me. Please.”

  “Yes.”

  Tucking my head between her neck and shoulder, I pulled her tight, hoping it would somehow chase away the loneliness and devastation that had begun to creep in.

  OUTSIDE, THE UNBEARABLE West Texas heat had already warmed the window pane I leaned against. Adjusting my stance to use the wall instead, I held my attention out the window in hopes of a glimpse of Beks. The truck was out front, proving she was there, but where was the question. The thought of her being anywhere near that lousy-ass father of hers made anger pulse through my blood.

  I woke up alone that morning, stretching across the cool, soft sheets in search of her warm body but came up empty. At some point in the early morning hours, she snuck out with me passed out from pure exhaustion. Having her once in the shower wasn't enough. Neither was the second or third or fourth. Each time I needed one more touch, one more kiss as much as I needed the air to breathe.

  How in the hell would I survive three states over without her? Not knowing if she was okay, safe, happy? Damn, I wanted her happy and taken care of. By me. />
  But what if I slipped? What if one day I decided to give in to the whiskey’s call? Those urges would always be there, so did that mean I was never allowed to be happy? If I did slip, Beks would be there for me, be the one to help me through the struggle of sobriety again.

  But was I ready for someone to see me? All of the broken and jagged pieces, not just the good side. If I dug down deep and searched for the truthful answer, it would be a yes. Yes, I was tired of doing this alone and believing I was alone. Having Beks at my side, being the additional strength I needed to continue to fight those demons, was what I wanted, what I needed. Her in my life was a need, not a want.

  I needed that woman as much as she needed me.

  “Let's get this shit done with,” Dad said from the leather couch with a glare. He looked like shit. But I wasn't one to talk—so did I. The lack of sleep and swelling did nothing for my mood or appearance. “I have someone coming by to check out the place this afternoon.”

  Hell. Of course he did. Money-hungry, gold-digging bastard. Since he couldn't access more than his monthly allowance from the trust, he looked for money any way he could. And selling our family’s homestead was it.

  The older of the two attorneys stood and looked my direction with a smile. “Before we get started, Mr. Graves left something for his grandson.” In shock, I forced all my attention to the man. “He asked me to give it to him, let him read it in private, before we divide the estate.”

  I took the thick manila envelope from his outstretched hand. The paper crinkled in my grasp.

  “We'll be here when you're finished.”

  I nodded to the older man and turned for the door. Not knowing where to go, I meandered through the house and paused outside Pappy's office. One step inside, the rich smell of leather and Old Spice confirmed I was in the right spot to read Pappy's last words.

  The leather chair molded around my back and thighs with a sigh. Using my index finger, I ripped open the sealed envelope and pulled out the stack of papers within. On top was a handwritten note.

  Brenton,

  There was so much I wanted to say before the end, and I want you to know not coming to find you, settling this in person, is a regret I took to the grave. I'm a coward, and I'm sorry.