The Lost Fisherman

by Jewel E. Ann

  A billion … times infinity.

  “No,” I whispered like it wasn’t my brain answering her. It was my soul whispering its truth.

  That seemed to bring out an additional dose of worry. Rose looked at me like I was in love with a movie star. An infatuation that had gone too far. “How can you say that?” she whispered.

  “Because what we have is effortless. It just … happens. What we have doesn’t care if it’s right or wrong. It doesn’t care about timing. It doesn’t care about age. And it doesn’t need memories to live or survive. Fisher doesn’t have to remember that he loves me. It’s simply that he does, whether he makes a conscious choice to do it or not. I think he loved Angie because he’d convinced himself it made sense. And if his memory comes back, I think he’s going to realize that, and then he’s going to realize it no longer makes sense.”

  Rose shook her head, gaze pointed at the floor, at my feet.

  “I know you’re Team Angie. It’s fine. She’s great. If I wasn’t heart and soul in love with Fisher, I’d be Team Angie too,” I said with a little defeat to my voice.

  “Oh, hon … I’m Team Reese. Always.” She lifted her gaze. “I love you like my own daughter, which is precisely why I’m so protective of you. And it’s nothing against Fisher. I love Fisher too. But I saw him with Angie. It wasn’t one sided. He loved her. It wasn’t pity love. It wasn’t a second-choice love. And I know what that looks like because I was married to the wrong person for too many years. So as much as I want to feel as confident as you do that this will all work its way out in your favor … I’m not as sure.”

  After a long pause, I nodded. “It’s okay. I don’t know if it’s going to work out in my favor either, but I know this … if he gets his memory back and chooses her, I will understand. And it won’t change my love for him. And when he waits for her at the altar, he will find me in the crowd of people, and we will share a look.” I wiped a few more tears from my eyes. “That look that says we know he loves me more.” I shifted my gaze to Rose. “The way you knew my mom loved you more than my dad.”

  With a sad smile pulling at her lips, she nodded several times.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I took my en-caul-birth-and-sex-with-Fisher high and rode it for days. It didn’t matter that Angie came home and dominated Fisher’s time that weekend. I knew he wasn’t having sex with her.

  The following week, I stayed busy with work, reading books for work, morning jogs, and crossword puzzles. Rory and Rose went over to Fisher’s one night to have dinner with him and Angie. I was invited, but I declined. My heart needed more time to prepare for that awkward moment—seeing him again with Angie after what we did together.

  That moment came all too quickly. My birthday weekend. Camping. Party of five. A fifth wheel on my own birthday.

  Not cool.

  “Rory’s running late,” Rose announced when I got home from work Friday afternoon. “She had a client who had a fender bender but apparently ‘needed’ her hair highlighted before leaving town tomorrow. So I’m going to wait for her. And you’ll ride with Fisher and Angie to get everything set up before it gets dark.” Rose moved food from the fridge to a cooler, shooting me a wrinkled nose smile. “Sorry.”

  “Or we can leave in the morning.”

  Rose shook her head. “Nope. Your mom wants you to wake up in the mountains on your birthday. Pancakes on the camping griddle. And a hike before lunch.”

  “I’m telling her about Fisher. I’m just telling her. And she can figure out how to deal with it. I’m tired of her unintentionally sabotaging my love life and now ruining my birthday by inviting my boyfriend’s fiancée for a weekend camping trip.”

  Rose chuckled, shaking her head. “Just stop for a second and think about how insane that sounds. Your boyfriend’s fiancée.”

  I frowned.

  “Go get ready. Fisher and Angie will be here to get you in less than an hour.”

  Dragging my feet, I made my way to my bedroom to change my clothes and finish packing a few things including a warm jacket, boots, gloves, and a hat. There was a slight chance of snow in the mountains for my pre-Halloween birthday.

  After zipping my bag and grabbing a jacket, I took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly just as there were two quick knocks on the front door.

  “Hello?”

  Fisher’s voice.

  I should have been happy to hear his voice, but it just meant I had to put on a fake smile. I had to be the odd woman out, sitting in the back of his truck for several hours while Angie fiddled with his hair, talked about their wedding, and in general made me sick to my stomach.

  “She should be ready. Reese?” Rose called.

  On another deep breath, I pulled back my shoulders and played the part of the happy birthday girl as I trekked to the front door.

  It was a chillier day in Denver, and it was the first time I had seen Fisher in a beanie. I wanted to cry. He looked so sexy. Sexy for her, not me.

  “Hey.” He grinned too big, said hey with too much enthusiasm.

  I managed to return two raised eyebrows and a closed-lipped smile.

  “Let me take your bag. I’ll meet you in the truck. No rush.”

  I relinquished my bag.

  “Hopefully, we’ll only be an hour or two behind. Did you get our gear that I set by the garage?” Rose asked.

  “I did,” Fisher said just before shutting the door.

  “No pouting. It’s not the worst thing ever.” Rose handed me a thermos. “Hot chocolate for the road.”

  “Thanks.” I took it.

  “See you in a few hours?”

  “Yup.” I went out the front door.

  Fisher’s truck was backed into the driveway. I wasn’t going to sit behind Fisher and have Angie glancing at me every two seconds, so I walked around to the passenger side so my view would be of Fisher.

  I opened the back door. “Um …” I glanced up front to the empty seat. “I thought you picked Angie up already.” I climbed into the back.

  “Get your ass up here.” He glanced at me and grinned.

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “Happy birthday.”

  “It’s not my birthday until tomorrow.”

  “Yes, but I’m giving you your present now.”

  “My present is riding in the front seat? I’m not ten. And Angie riding in back is just weird.”

  “But Angie’s not going, so it’s only weird if you ride in back.”

  “What?” My eyes widened.

  “She’s not going. Just get up front before Rose comes out here because she doesn’t understand why I’m still parked in the driveway.”

  I hopped in the front seat, and Fisher wasted no time pulling out of the driveway.

  “Is she okay?” I didn’t want to accidentally smile or squeal with joy if something was wrong with Angie. I wasn’t a catty bitch by nature.

  “She’s fine. Just a little headache.”

  “She stayed home for just a little headache?”

  He shrugged. “I suggested she stay home.”

  “Why?”

  With a contemplative expression, he kept his gaze forward. “Because I love you today. And I think there’s a high probability that I will love you tomorrow—on your birthday. Loving you means making your birthday as special as possible.”

  “Pull over.”

  “What?” He shot me a quick glance. “You feeling okay?”

  “Pull over now.”

  He veered off the road just before we reached the interstate.

  I unbuckled and crawled over the console.

  “Whoa … what are you—”

  With one leg still on the console and my other leg pressed between his legs so my knee was on the seat, I grabbed his face and kissed him.

  It took him a second—two at the most—to get past the shock of my sudden need to kiss him, hug him, love him. One of his hands found my waist and his other hand palmed my backside.

  “I love you.” I moved my e
ager mouth from his lips to his cheeks, showering him with kisses. “I love you so much.”

  “Yeah?” He chuckled. “I picked the right present for your birthday?”

  “Yes.”

  Kiss.

  “Yes.”

  Kiss.

  Fisher laughed a little more. I couldn’t stop kissing him. It had been over a week since I’d seen him. And he exceeded my expectations in every way possible. I pulled off his beanie.

  “Hey, that’s my hat.”

  I slowly ran my hands through his hair and brought our noses together, closing my eyes for a brief second as I exhaled. “I just … need to feel you everywhere I can,” I whispered. “It’s how I know you’re mine. It’s how I know it’s real.”

  Fisher brought his chin up so our lips pressed together again, kissing like he kissed me the night in his bathroom. Then he pulled back, hands sliding up my back, gaze sweeping across my face. “If we waste too much time here, we won’t get to the campsite in time to set up and do … things before Rory and Rose get there.”

  I grinned, slipping his beanie back onto his head. “Things? What kind of things do you plan on doing to me?” A jolt of excitement shot through my veins.

  “All the things.”

  I swallowed hard. “Well, why didn’t you start with that?” I pushed him away, as if he were the one who forced me onto his lap, and I scrambled to get fastened into my seat. “Go. Don’t wait for me. Go! Go! Go!”

  He laughed, shaking his head while pulling back into traffic. I synced my phone with his truck so I could control the music. John Legend’s “Wild.”

  I knew Fisher hadn’t heard it because he wore a slight scowl on his face when the song started. But as the lyrics flowed through his speakers, his scowl turned into something resembling … lust.

  Next, I played Josie Dunne’s “Good Boys.”

  Fisher shot me a smirk. Who were we kidding? He wasn’t a good boy even if he didn’t remember all the crude things he said to me. I remembered.

  James Bay’s “Wild Love.”

  ZAYN’s “It’s You.”

  HRVY’s “Me Because of You.”

  Song after song.

  I sang them all. All the lyrics. Serenading my lost fisherman.

  By the time we pulled into the campsite, I was only a few verses into “Natural” by The Driver Era.

  Fisher jumped out much faster than I did. He pulled the tents out of the back of his truck. “Do you know how to put up a tent?”

  “I think so.”

  “Great. Get moving.” He tossed one of the tents at my feet.

  I laughed. “Okay.”

  He finished putting up the two bigger tents by the time I had the smaller tent assembled.

  With my hands on my hips, I stared at the small tent and frowned. “This is mine, isn’t it? Big tents for the couples. And birthday girl gets the smaller tent with nothing but a sleeping bag to keep me warm at a night.”

  Fisher didn’t seem interested in my pity party for one. He unloaded a cooler, sleeping bags, his backpack and mine.

  And I just stared at the small tent. Was he going to keep Angie warm? Probably. Why wouldn’t he have?

  “What the fuck are you doing?” He stepped in front of me, blocking the view of my tent and bending down so his face was level with mine.

  “Just thinking about how things could have gone,” I said in a monotone voice.

  “That’s what I figured. When are you going to start trusting me?”

  I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I trust you … just not your memory.”

  “Well, that makes two of us.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward one of the bigger tents, squatting down to untie my shoes for me before unzipping the door. “But I remember what you felt like and what you tasted like. That’s all the memory I need. So get your ass in the tent.”

  Still feeling too pouty for a nearly twenty-four-year-old, I stepped into the tent and moved to the middle of it where I could stand up. He already had two open sleeping bags and extra blankets and pillows spread over a big pad. Why was I so bothered by a small tent? Why was I so bothered by “what if” should Angie have come too? It was stupid. A big what-if that did not matter at all. I guess we all had triggers. Who knew a tent would be mine?

  I jumped when Fisher’s hands landed on my hips, but he wasn’t standing behind me; he was kneeling, his lips finding their way under my fleece jacket and my shirt to the skin along my lower back.

  Tiny kisses.

  Hands sliding to the button of my jeans.

  Unbutton … unzip …

  I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the negativity. Fisher peeled my jeans down my legs.

  So … very … slowly.

  As his hands took charge of my jeans, his teeth took care of my panties. And that did it …

  Fisher removing my panties with his teeth was the most erotic thing ever.

  Really. Ever!

  Angie? Angie who?

  Little tent? What little tent?

  I let Fisher undress me and do all the things. He kissed me in places only he could kiss me and make it feel sexy, make me feel beautiful and desired. When he touched me, it didn’t feel like my body. It felt like an extension of him, and I just got to experience him giving me a thorough tour of it.

  Every touch was a silent whisper, all the things he said to me by showing me.

  This is how I make you moan.

  This is how I steal your breath.

  This is how I make you beg.

  This is where you make me feel like a god.

  Because I don’t remember you, but I know you.

  I. Know. You.

  Nestled between two open sleeping bags, we made love, we made noise …. and we made new memories.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What did you say to make Angie stay?” I asked while piecing myself back together. There was no time left for cuddling. Rory and Rose would be there soon.

  “I said that my therapist wanted to make sure I was setting aside time to think, time to be alone, but not just at work. Since she had a headache, I suggested this weekend be that time.” He zipped his jeans, still on his back so that I could have the tallest part of the tent.

  Yeah … he loved me.

  “I said you, Rory, and Rose would probably do some things without me. Or maybe not want to take the same hikes I take, so I’d have time to be alone with my thoughts. And she agreed.” He sat up and pulled on his thermal waffle shirt and his beanie.

  “And you did it for me?”

  Staring at me in silence for several seconds, he nodded. “Yes. For you.” Then a tiny smirk hijacked his serious expression. “I mean … I might have done it a little bit for me too.”

  “Yeah?” I trapped my lower lip between my teeth.

  “Don’t give me that look.” He shook his head and crawled toward the door to the tent. “It will lead to things, and we are out of time. They’ll be here soon. And I need to get a fire made.”

  I giggled, following him out of the tent with my pillow, backpack, and a sleeping bag and extra blanket. After tossing everything into the smaller tent, I helped Fisher make a fire and set up the camping chairs around it. Shortly after we started roasting hot dogs, Rory and Rose arrived.

  “I texted Angie to make sure you had everything and that we didn’t need to stop on our way out of town, and she said she wasn’t coming. Why didn’t you tell us?” Rory asked Fisher.

  I kept my gaze on the fire and the hot dog at the end of my stick.

  “Spaced it, I guess. After I took Reese’s stuff to the car and loaded the equipment, I didn’t go back inside.”

  “Angie said she had a headache. I told her to take something for it and come with us. But she said no. I asked why, and she said to ask you?” Rory had Fisher in the hot seat.

  I glanced up at Rose as she walked past me to put their bags in their tent.

  Yes, Rose. We planned this. And while you were driving through the winding mountain roads
, I was having the best sex EVER!

  I wasn’t sure if she got all that from my tiny smirk, but I knew she wasn’t stupid. And I don’t think she was mad either. Her silence said as much. Before our little heart-to-heart, she was the first to call me out on everything.

  I mean … even with my hat on, I must have had a terrible case of sex hair that stuck out in all directions beneath my hat. Fisher put me in every position imaginable, often grabbing my hair until I submitted by bending, spreading, or opening at his command. My cheeks filled with heat just thinking about it.

  In return, Rose lifted a single brow and shook her head. She knew I was thinking about things that would have made Rory shudder, shattering her naive little world, at least when it came to me.

  “It was kind of my therapist’s suggestion,” Fisher said to Rory.

  “What does that mean?” Rory took a seat as Fisher handed her a stick and the package of hot dogs.

  “It means, while I sort out my situation and consider all possibilities … meaning the possibility of getting my memory back as well as the possibility of not getting my memory back … it’s important for me to have time to clear my head without the influence of outside opinions.”

  “So we’re not allowed to give you our two cents this weekend?” Rory grinned, putting her hot dog over the fire.

  “Correct. No Angie talk. No accident talk. No wedding talk. We can talk about you or Rose or the birthday girl.” Fisher gave a resolute nod, clearly proud of his little speech.

  “Okay. Let’s talk about the birthday girl.” Rory grinned at me from across the fire. “One of the other ladies who works at the salon has a brother that I think would be a perfect match for you.”

  My gaze shifted to Fisher for a split second, but he kept his attention on the fire, jaw a little tighter than usual.

  Rose sat next to my mom, shooting me a tiny grin. Yeah, I needed to find a way to tell Rory everything.

  “What makes him a perfect match for me?”

  “He’s a third-year resident in pediatrics.” Rory’s smile could have crossed the Grand Canyon. Really, she thought she hit the jackpot for me.

  I chuckled. “That makes him perfect for me?”