by Susan Stoker
“You walk by their table a couple times.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, yeah,” Rayne said. “I mean, it’s not like you can drop yourself in his lap and announce that you’re his wife and you want him to take you home to bed.”
“Tempting,” Mary quipped under her breath.
Rayne smiled. “I heard that.”
“I know. Should I stop and talk to them? Maybe I can pretend to know Ghost or something and talk to him.”
“Hmmm, not a bad idea, but I’m thinking this first time you just walk by. Let’s ease into this. See what his reaction is.”
Mary knew that was probably best, but it was going to be so hard to not do something stupid—like get down on her knees and beg him to remember her.
Rayne flagged down their waitress and ordered them both iced teas and they got a plate of cheese fries to munch on.
Mary knew the fries were more for Rayne’s sake than hers. She couldn’t eat a thing, and she had a feeling Rayne knew it, but she appreciated her friend trying to make things seem as normal as possible.
Ten minutes later, the door to the restaurant opened and Ghost, Hollywood, and Truck walked in.
Mary sucked in a breath. Truck stood head and shoulders above his friends. His mouth was pulled down in its usual scowl because of the scar on his face. He was wearing a black T-shirt and his biceps strained against the material. Mary immediately noticed the way his brow was furrowed, as if he fought against a headache.
“Oh, shit,” Mary whispered. “I can’t do this.” Seeing him in person, standing tall and looking exactly like he had when she’d last seen him, was painful. He was just as handsome in her eyes, looked exactly like the Truck who’d promised that they were going to move their relationship to the next level.
His eyes took in the restaurant, and Mary held her breath as his gaze met hers for a split second before moving on.
Without thought, one of her hands came up to press on her chest over her heart. The blankness in his gaze was a blow. Rayne had warned her it would be, but nothing could’ve prepared Mary for the lack of recognition she saw in his eyes.
The entire time she’d known him, Truck had looked at her with intense emotion, even the very first time she’d met him. Caring, worry, amusement, love, tenderness…the list went on and on. But him dismissing her as if he had no idea who she was almost broke her. Of course, he had no idea who she was. It wasn’t as if he was purposely hurting her.
At that moment, Mary knew she had two choices. The first option was to set Truck free. If she let him go, it would destroy her. She would probably turn back into the cynical woman she’d been before he’d decided she was worth the effort.
Or she could fight for what she wanted.
It was an easy decision.
She wanted Truck.
She might not ever be able to verbally say the words, but she could show him every day how much he meant to her and how much she loved him. She could be there for him. She could support him. She could be a woman he would be proud to have at his side. She’d show him every night how much she loved him with her body. He’d understand. Of course he would, he was Truck.
She wouldn’t give up on him. He hadn’t given up on her when the odds were way more stacked against her with something far more serious than memory loss. Truck wasn’t dead. By some miracle, she wasn’t either. She was going to fight for him. She might not succeed, he might not want anything to do with her, but she’d be as pathetic as the damsels in distress she loved to make fun of in movies if she didn’t at least try.
Mary followed the trio with her eyes as they were seated. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Truck, even though she knew if he caught her, he’d think she was a creeper.
“Are you okay?” Rayne asked from across the booth.
Reluctantly, Mary looked over at her best friend. “Yes.”
Rayne blinked and then narrowed her eyes. “You are, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. That sucked, there’s no doubt. But you know what?”
“What?”
“I almost died. Twice. I had my body filled with so many poisons and crap, I would’ve glowed if someone held a black light up to my body. I dry heaved so much it felt as if I’d done a thousand sit-ups in a row. I puked all over myself, the floor, Truck, and my bed. I went five days without eating anything and only drinking enough to survive. But I beat that fucking cancer. Twice. Amnesia? Pbfft.” Mary made a scoffing noise then continued. “Amnesia’s got nothing on me. It’s like someone pulling out a cute little derringer when I’ve got a Desert Eagle.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Rayne said with a confused look on her face.
“It means, amnesia is not going to beat me. No fucking way. I’m gonna fight it as hard as I fought my cancer…well, okay, there was a point when I didn’t really fight it all that hard, but Truck did for me. So I’m going to return the favor.”
“Um…that’s all well and good, and I’m thrilled you’re not curled up in a ball on the other side of this booth, but I don’t know how you can fight this. It’s not as if you can inject him with drugs and fix it.”
“No, you’re right, I can’t. But I can fight for what I want. And I want Truck.”
Rayne didn’t react for a second, then a huge grin broke out on her face, and she squealed and leaped out of her seat and plunked herself down next to Mary and hugged her as tight as she could. “God, I’m so glad to hear that.”
Mary hugged Rayne back and chuckled.
“I was so afraid you’d give up. That you’d decide you couldn’t handle this. That you’d think love wasn’t worth it.”
“I handled cancer. I can handle this. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. It won’t. And, Rayne, I know I’m going to need your help. But Truck didn’t fight to keep me alive, only to have me turn my back on him now.”
“Damn straight.”
“Damn straight,” Mary agreed.
The waitress chose that moment to return and put the plate of cheesy goodness down on the table. Rayne moved back to the other side of the booth and the two women proceeded to plot their plan of attack.
It wasn’t lost on Truck that Ghost kept looking over at the booth in the bar area where two women were sitting. He’d noticed them the second he’d walked in, but had done his best to look disinterested. He wasn’t here to pick up women; he was here to talk with his friends and to hopefully remember something from the last three years.
One thing Truck hadn’t forgotten was the way women sometimes looked at him. They either immediately wanted to jump his bones because he was a bad boy, or they acted as if he were a serial killer who was going to pull a knife out from behind his back and start slashing at everyone around him. His height, and the scar on his face, had turned more women off than he could even count. And the college-aged girl who’d led them to their table was no exception. She’d taken one look at his face and had immediately turned her eyes away and spoken to Hollywood instead.
But the woman sitting in the bar with short brown hair with the pink streak in it hadn’t looked away from him when he’d caught her eye. In fact, she’d stared at him with such intensity, he almost walked toward her to find out what was wrong.
When Ghost looked over at the other table for the fifth time, Truck asked, “You know them?”
It took his friend a while to answer, but Truck was glad he didn’t try to lie to him. “Yeah.”
“Hmmm.” Truck wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to ask how Ghost knew them, but he had a feeling the other man wouldn’t tell him. It wasn’t hard to tell that his friends were watching what they said around him very carefully. They were treating him as if he were a ticking time bomb and if they said the wrong thing, his head would literally explode. It was beginning to irritate the fuck out of him.
Deciding to let it go for now—his head still hurt and he had an appointment to see the doctor on post before he could go home—Truck looked down at the menu. It was different than he remembered, but that wasn’t
too surprising since he remembered a menu that was three years old.
He settled on a ten-ounce steak with a loaded baked potato and a salad. The waitress did her best to not make eye contact while he was ordering, concentrating on the notepad in front of her instead. Of course, she didn’t have any problem flirting with Hollywood as he ordered. Truck mentally rolled his eyes. That was familiar.
Their salads arrived after a while and the three men were talking about the PT session they’d had that morning. Ghost had just asked about his afternoon doctor’s appointment when his friend said “shit” under his breath.
Looking up, Truck saw the woman who had caught his eye earlier walking toward them. Her eyes were glued to his—and Truck stilled.
She had the most expressive brown eyes he’d ever seen.
He held his breath as she neared, forgetting all about Hollywood and Ghost sitting with him.
She wasn’t looking away. Wasn’t pretending she didn’t see the gnarly scar on his face. When she got close, her lips curled up in a slight smile.
Truck could feel his hands begin to sweat—what the hell?— but he couldn’t tear his gaze from hers.
When she got close, she said, “Hi,” in a low voice. Truck thought for sure she was going to stop and talk to them, but she continued walking, obviously headed for the hallway, which had a large “restrooms” sign above it.
Truck watched her ass as she headed away from the table. She was fairly tall…probably around five eight or nine, exactly the height he liked best in a woman, and slender. Almost too slender for his taste. She didn’t have much in the way of tits, but her hips were nicely rounded. Her hair was short, but the pink streak gave it character. It told him a lot about her. That she wasn’t afraid to go out on a limb. That she wasn’t so into societal norms. That she was a bit of a risk taker. He liked all of that.
But it was the fact that she wasn’t afraid to meet his eyes and truly look at him that really made him interested. Oh, he’d seen her eyes flick to his scar, but then she looked right back into his eyes. And that was truly unique. Most women either retreated, mentally or physically, or tried to check out his package. As if they thought they might be able to put up with his ugly mug if he had a big cock.
He did, but that was beside the point.
“What time is your appointment?” Ghost asked. “I can come with you if you want.”
Truck didn’t take his eyes off the woman until she’d disappeared into the restroom. Then, instead of answering, for some reason he turned his head and looked back at the table in the bar area where the woman had been sitting. He caught her friend looking in their direction, but she quickly ducked her chin and picked up a French fry from the almost empty plate in front of her. She was trying to look nonchalant, but he saw a blush work its way up her cheeks at being caught staring.
Truck wasn’t an idiot. He knew he fascinated women. Once upon a time, he’d been easy on the eyes. He’d had no problem picking up women when he went out. Sure, he attracted the freaks who wanted to get it on either because he was damaged or out of pity, but at least he’d been able to get off.
But he hadn’t seen pity in the woman who’d just passed their table. He wasn’t sure what he saw in her eyes, but it wasn’t pity or a sick kind of curiosity.
The throbbing in his head intensified as he thought about the woman.
“Truck?” Ghost questioned.
“Two-thirty,” Truck told his friend, answering his earlier question. “And I don’t need you to go with me and hold my hand.”
Ghost chuckled. “I wasn’t going to offer,” he said, pretending to be offended.
Truck kept up a witty back and forth with his friends, all the while attuned to the back hallway. He was curious as to whether the woman would walk by their table again or if she’d go the more obvious route to her table via the back of the restaurant.
Within minutes, she reappeared—and walked straight toward him again.
Truck couldn’t stop the small smile. He knew it was lopsided, but he didn’t care. Having this unique-looking woman check him out felt good. Really good.
This time when she passed the table, he nodded at her. She didn’t speak again, but gave him another small smile in return. Truck wanted to turn and watch her ass as she passed, but he refrained.
“She was checkin’ you out,” Hollywood observed.
“Yup,” Truck replied.
Hollywood opened his mouth to say something else, but the waitress appeared with their steaks. They smelled as good as Truck remembered, and he was glad the quality of the food hadn’t diminished in the last three years.
When she was done setting their lunches down on the table, Truck snuck a glance over to the bar. He was surprised to find the women’s booth vacant. All that remained was an empty plate, two glasses, and what was obviously the signed bill on the table.
Feeling disappointed, Truck turned his attention back to his food and his friends. It wasn’t as if he could have strolled over to the woman and given her his phone number, not when he was missing such a big chunk of his life. It felt wrong, somehow, to even be interested in anyone. He had no idea why that was, but knew if he tried to explain himself to Ghost and Hollywood, they’d change the subject.
They’d taken the doctor’s orders to heart, to not rush his memory. To let him recall things on his own. Which was super frustrating because so far, he hadn’t recalled shit. He didn’t remember anything about the other Delta team or the mission in Africa. The last thing he still remembered with any clarity was being in Iraq…which was apparently years ago.
It was maddening—especially when he caught his friends communicating silently, as Hollywood and Ghost were right now.
Deciding to not call them on it—maybe if he pretended he didn’t know they were keeping shit from him, they’d relax a bit and actually talk to him—Truck took another bite of steak and pretended to be interested in what his friends were saying.
“So?” Rayne asked when they were outside.
Mary shrugged, still reeling from her small encounter with Truck. She’d been sure he would ignore her presence as she walked by the table. But instead of ignoring her, he stared, his brown eyes piercing in their intensity. For a second, she thought he was going to stand up and take her in his arms and tell her how much he’d missed her.
She’d squeaked out a small “hi” when she passed him, and he didn’t move. Didn’t come after her. Didn’t declare that seeing her had cured him. But Mary felt his eyes on her ass as she walked away and entered the restroom.
It had taken a couple minutes to regain her equilibrium, and she’d frantically texted Rayne, asking if she should walk past his table again, or if she should go the other way. Rayne had encouraged her to walk by Truck again, so she had. And the second time he’d nodded at her.
It was depressing and exciting at the same time.
She had never, not since she was fourteen years old, made the first move in a relationship. Not once. She’d always let the guys come to her. But…it felt good. Empowering.
“Mary!” Rayne demanded. “What happened? I couldn’t really see much.”
“Nothing to get excited about. I said hi when I went by the first time, and he nodded at me when I went back by.”
“That’s good,” Rayne declared.
“Is it?”
“Oh, yeah. They went out to eat last night, just to get him out of his apartment and to make sure he was okay. When the waitress hit on him, Ghost said he didn’t even look twice at her.”
“What?” Rayne hadn’t told her that. Neither had any of the other women. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Oh…uh…soon. But I wanted you to get the first contact out of the way before I said anything,” Rayne said quickly.
The thought of anyone hitting on Truck made her want to pull their hair out by the roots, but what was really scary was wondering about Truck’s reaction. She remembered how he’d acted when the paramedic at the bank had hit on him. He�
��d been offended that anyone would dare make a move when he was with her.
But now that he didn’t know he was with her, Mary wondered if it was only a matter of time before he sought attention from the opposite sex. After all, she knew how long it had been since he’d had sex. At least a year. She wasn’t sure what his bedroom activities were before that, but she had a feeling he’d been celibate since he’d met her.
“When are they going out again?” Mary asked Rayne as they walked to their cars.
“Um…I’m not sure.”
“Don’t lie to me, Rayne. Seriously, you suck at it, and I can tell every time. Tell me.”
Rayne sighed and said, “This weekend. Ghost said Truck wanted to go to that sleazy bar near the post they used to go to all the time. Of course, he doesn’t know they stopped going there when everyone got girlfriends. He still thinks that’s their usual hangout spot.”
“I’m going,” Mary declared.
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Rayne said. “I mean, I know we’re working on Operation Make Truck Remember and all, but I know you.”
“What’s that mean?” Mary asked with her hands on her hips.
“It means that if someone hits on Truck, you’re going to lose your shit. I know it’s been a while, but I also know that you’ll have no problem getting into a brawl, and that’s the last thing you need, both health-wise and because it’ll draw unwanted and unflattering attention to yourself. Do you want Truck to see you rolling around on the nasty floor of that bar? No, you don’t.” Rayne was talking faster and faster, as if by continually talking, she could keep Mary from disagreeing. “And you just made the first contact today, and it went well. Let Casey and Wendy go. They’ll chat up the guys and see if they can jog Truck’s memory.”
Mary knew Rayne was trying to do what she thought was the best thing for her—but she was wrong. “He looked interested in me,” Mary told her.
“Truck?”
“Yeah. We made eye contact, and I could tell that he was curious about me. There wasn’t any recognition, not really, but I think if I saw him again, I might be able to keep him interested.”