“I’m not sure how much I should tell you, honey, or how much you need to remember on your own.”
“It’s best not to tell her anything,” a voice said from the doorway. Her gaze stopped on Brett as he stepped into the room.
“How the hell would you know?” she asked, perturbed he would interrupt her reunion with her father.
“I might not be a psychologist, Whitney, but I am a doctor.”
Pain zipped across her head, and she moaned softly as she closed her eyes. Memories flashed across her mind, and she fought to grasp them. Images of falling and pain in her leg had her grasping her thigh. Another of Ryan smiling as he walked toward her with a bouquet of mixed flowers in his hands and gallantly bowed at the waist before presenting them to her with flourish. Laughing with Brett as they watched a movie on a couch in a room she didn’t recognize.
“Are you remembering something?”
The images disappeared when the voice interrupted her thoughts.
“I remember falling down a steep incline and my leg hurting. I remember you and Ryan, but the memories are vague.”
“That’s a start,” Brett said, moving closer to the bed. “You fell in the canyon back in June and were brought here. Your femur was broken in that leg.” He nodded toward where her hand still rested.
“Femur?”
“Your thigh bone.”
“Oh.” She captured her lip between her teeth. “How do you know this?”
“I was the doctor who treated you in the emergency room.”
“And Ryan?”
The gaze that rested on her told her he fought with himself about how much to tell her.
“Tell me, Brett, please.”
“Ryan was the rescue paramedic who pulled you out of the canyon and brought you here.”
“That’s why I felt like someone I knew should have been in the ambulance with me when I came in yesterday,” she whispered. “How do I know you and Ryan other than that?”
“I can’t tell you that. You have to remember on your own.”
“Why?”
“It could be detrimental to your recovery if you are told what should be happening rather than those memories returning naturally. Your system could go into overload from too much information at once.”
“I hate this! I want to know what happened. Why am I in Flagstaff? Why is Eric in jail? Who are you to me?” Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her cheeks.
Her father pulled her into his arms and stroked her back. “It’s okay, sweetheart. The memories will come back in time.”
Gut-wrenching sobs shook her frame as she clung to her father’s shirt. “Take me home, Dad. Right now. I want to go home.”
Chapter Six
Her tears tore Brett’s heart in two. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to be the one holding her and drying her tears, but he couldn’t. Not now.
If I get my hands on that fucking bastard who hurt her, I’ll kill him. Eric. That son-of-a-bitch has managed to tear her away from me and Ryan without even trying.
She was going to leave you, his heart whispered, and he frowned.
He raked his fingers through his hair as he watched her sob against her father’s chest. I need to get out of here before I say something I shouldn’t.
Moving to her side, he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Whitney. I need to go, but I wanted to say something before I do.”
She lifted her face and stared into his eyes.
“I know this is all confusing to you. I can’t imagine losing two months of your life and not knowing what happened. I wish you weren’t leaving, but I understand your reasons. Even if you don’t remember me or Ryan, we care about you and would never do anything to hurt you. If someday you do remember, we’ll be here.”
A single tear slid down her cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing it away with his thumb.
Trembling lips and a tear-stained face were the last things he saw when he left her room.
Quickly walking to his car in the hospital’s garage, he stopped next to it and tipped his head back with a deep sigh.
Seconds later, a tortured cry burst from his lips before he slammed his fist down on the top, leaving a small dent in the metal. Yanking open the door, he slipped inside, jammed the key into the ignition, and cranked the engine so it started with a dull purr. Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! His fist pounded on the steering wheel. He popped the car into reverse and peeled out with a squeal of tires loud enough to turn the few heads of those in the garage.
Once he reached the outskirts of town, pine trees zipped by as he pushed his foot to the floor. Speed. He needed speed to block the image of Whitney from his mind before he went insane. Mile markers blurred. White lines looked like dots on the pavement. All he could think of were the tears on her face and the blank look in her eyes when she met his gaze.
Pulling the car abruptly into a turn-out, he pushed the door open and moved near the edge of the bluff. Off in the distance, he could see the scattered lights of Sedona below. The scene usually helped him relax and let his cares go, but tonight, nothing helped. Not the purple sky of the coming evening, not the sounds of coyotes in the distance yipping for their mates, and not the breeze ruffling the hair against his neck. Nothing could replace the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.
How long he stood there he didn’t know. He wasn’t keeping track, but the sun had disappeared from the sky and blackness surrounded him, enveloping him in the deepest loneliness he’d ever felt in his entire life. Whitney had become the other half of him with her bright smile, bubbling laughter, and kind heart. He knew Ryan felt the same way. Neither of them had ever wanted a permanent fixture, a woman to come home to, but she had barreled her way into their lives and hearts without even trying.
What the hell am I going to do without her? She completed me. Completed us.
* * * *
Sweat cut a path from Ryan’s temples and down his neck and back in rivulets. Droplets glistened across the expanse of his chest while he pounded the heavy punching bag in his spare room. With each strike, the sound of leather hitting vinyl sounded loud in the room.
Brett had broken the news of Whitney’s departure not fifteen minutes ago, and now, Ryan felt like his heart lay shattered in his chest. Her name echoed in his brain every time his gloved fist hit the rock-solid weight of the bag. The chain holding it securely to the ceiling clanked with every punch.
Whitney. Whitney. Whitney.
She’s gone. Get over it. She doesn’t remember you, doesn’t recall the feelings that engulfed the three of us when we made love.
Ryan didn’t realize he had tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing with the sweat, until a sob escaped his lips and he hung onto the bag. After a moment, he stepped back, swiped his brow with his arm, and hit the bag again.
No one has ever meant this much to me. How did she invade my heart so easily? Not even Sara held me so tight, and I was engaged to her.
Sara Reynolds. Even the memories of her didn’t hurt nearly as much as Whitney having no recollection of him or Brett. Honestly, Sara had meant the world to him, but Whitney being part of his life made it brighter, made it shine like diamonds on Lake Mary. He’d thought his life was over when Sara died in that accident five years earlier in the canyon, but he knew she wasn’t coming back and he knew he had to move on without her. It was the reason he became a paramedic and rescue climber for the canyon rescue team.
This situation with Whitney had him wondering and wishing. Would she ever get her memory back? She was terrified, he knew that, but it didn’t change the fact he still wanted to take her shoulders in his hands and shake her. The emptiness, the complete lack of recognition in her eyes when she looked at him, hurt. God, did it ever hurt. When she’d looked at him before, he could see the wonder in her gaze, the excitement surrounding her as she contemplated making love with both him and Brett and thought about a life with the two of them. Sure, none of them had confessed feelings, but he knew she cared ev
en if she hadn’t realized it yet. Now, she looked at him and Brett as if they were complete strangers to her. In a sense, he supposed they were. If her memory stopped prior to her accident, she wouldn’t know them from anyone else she might meet on the street.
I’m not giving up on her. She’ll get her memory back eventually, and when she does, she’ll be back. Brett and I just need to be patient.
* * * *
The car pulled into the circular driveway of her parents’ house. The heat of the August day beat down on her head when she stepped out and headed for the front door.
“Whitney, sweetheart,” her mother said when she moved inside. “My God! What happened up there? First, your father tells me you fell in the canyon and broke your leg, and then you were staying with that doctor at his house. The next thing I know, you are back in the hospital because Eric hit you.”
“Mom, I don’t remember.”
“What do you mean you don’t remember?”
“Alice,” her father said, stopping next to Whitney. “She doesn’t remember anything from the last couple of months. I think the last thing that comes to mind is before she left with Eric to go up there.”
“I don’t understand. Where’s Eric now?”
Her small suitcase was dropped near her feet. “In jail, Mom.”
“Jail?”
“Yes, Alice. Jail and he’ll stay there.”
“That’s ridiculous, Aaron. I’m sure this is all a big misunderstanding.” Alice looked at her and said, “Eric loves you, Whitney.”
Whitney closed her eyes when her head started to pound. More images flashed behind her eyelids. Images of Eric standing over her, laughing as he told her he wanted Mallory.
She gasped when her gaze focused on her mother again. “No, he doesn’t, Mom. He tried to kill me. He pushed me down the incline, and when he came to my side, he told me he wanted me dead because he wanted to be with Mallory.”
“Mallory?”
“Do you remember, sweetheart?” her dad asked.
“Not everything, just that he tried to kill me for my insurance policy, and that he’d been sleeping with Mallory.”
“This has to be a mistake.”
“Mom, listen to me. Eric is after nothing more than money.”
“Why would he, Whitney? He’s a successful attorney in his own right,” Alice said.
“No, Alice, he’s not.”
“What are you talking about, Dad?” Whitney asked, not sure if she wanted to know the details.
“Sit down, sweetheart. I didn’t want to tell you while we were in Flagstaff, but some things came to light in the last twenty-four hours since I found out you were in the hospital again.”
Whitney sat wearily on the couch in the living room, and her father took the seat across from her.
“Eric is heavily in debt.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’m not sure what’s been going on, but he’s been trying to borrow from several of our well-known clients at the firm. They all turned him down. John Watson called me last night and told me after I talked to you.”
“The insurance money.”
“It appears he needs a lot to get out of debt.”
“Millions apparently,” she whispered in awe as the whole scenario came to light. She stood and moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to bed. I’m exhausted with trying to remember, losing the baby, and everything.”
“Baby?” her mother asked, shocked.
“Yes, Mother. I was pregnant I guess, but not anymore. I lost it when Eric hit me.”
“Eric hit you?”
A rush of air escaped her lips in a heavy sigh. “I’ll explain later. Talk to you in the morning.”
Grabbing her suitcase, she wearily trudged up the stairs and headed for her former bedroom. Once she pushed open the door and moved toward the bed, the tears started to fall as emptiness surrounded her. She felt like she’d left her soul in Flagstaff. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she buried her face in her hands and cried until there weren’t any more tears. Curled up on the bed on her side, she wiped the tears and tucked her hands beneath her face. After several moments, she sat up and grabbed her suitcase, unzipping it to retrieve her clothes.
Several sheets of folded paper lay on top of the things inside. She frowned and opened them. Her mouth dropped open when she read the top one. Divorce Decree.
* * * *
Two weeks. It’d been two weeks since she’d left.
“Doc?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s gotten into you? You’ve been moping around here for the last two weeks.”
“Nothing,” he snapped.
“Sorry I asked,” Mara said, moving toward the other side of the nurse’s station.
“Chopper One to Flagstaff ER.”
Brett moved toward the radio. “Flagstaff, go.”
“We got a hot one, Brett,” Ryan said from the other end of the radio. “Head-on collision, Interstate Seventeen. One DOA coming in via ambulance. I’ve got a young pregnant woman, mid to late twenties. She’s twelve weeks with some vaginal bleeding. Currently unconscious, vital signs stable, fluids infusing. Be there in five.”
“Copy, Ryan, see you in a few,” Brett answered before he dropped the receiver back on the cradle. Shit! He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. This is all I need today, someone who reminds of Whitney. Who the hell am I kidding? Everyone reminds me of her.
“Get trauma one ready,” he ordered the nurse standing nearby.
The emergency room staff scrambled to get everything ready moments before Brett heard the helicopter land and Ryan burst through the doors, pushing a gurney.
“Hey, cousin.”
Brett met Ryan’s gazes over the body of the woman on the stretcher.”What have we got?”
Ryan gave him a quick report and moved out of the way so Brett could work. When he stopped at the head of the gurney, he sucked in a harsh breath when he saw the woman lying there.
“Whitney?” Brett asked, meeting Ryan’s gaze across the room.
“It’s not Whitney, Brett. Her name is Laura Oliver. Her husband is the DOA coming in.”
“But she looks just like Whitney.”
“I know. Focus, Brett.”
Shaking his head, he started barking orders for tests, fluids, and a CAT scan of her head and her abdomen. He could figure out what the hell was going on after he got her stabilized.
Two hours later, he sighed and leaned back in the chair at the desk. The woman hadn’t regained consciousness, and it worried him. Luckily, she hadn’t lost the pregnancy. The baby still sat snugly in her womb. Not like Whitney. She lost hers.
Neither he nor Ryan had heard from her since she left, and he fought with himself over whether to call her, go to L.A. and force her to remember them or do what his brain said and let her go. But what the hell? The woman lying in there on the gurney could be Whitney’s twin or sister.
“Could she be Whitney’s sister? She said she had three sisters, but she never told us what their names were.” The chair rocked forward when realization hit him. Maybe it is Whitney’s sister. He turned to the nurse next to him and said, “Do we have any more information on the woman in there?”
“No. Just that her name is Laura Oliver and her husband is the DOA in the other room. She lives in Los Angeles, apparently, according to her driver’s license.”
I have Aaron Morris’ number. I wonder if I should call him. It would be an excuse to find out how Whitney’s doing, too.
“I’ll be in the doctor’s lounge if you need me. I need to make a phone call.”
“Sure, Doctor Novak.”
Heading down the hall, he pushed open the lounge door and pulled out his cell phone. With shaking hands that he flexed to try to calm them, he flipped through the contacts. He quickly found Aaron’s phone number and hit talk.
“Morris, Armstrong and Collins, Attorneys-At-Law. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I need to speak with Aaron Morris.�
�
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Morris isn’t available right now. May I take a message?”
“My name is Doctor Brett Novak, and I need to speak with him or his daughter Whitney immediately.”
“I believe Whitney is still at her parents’ home. You could probably call her there. Mr. Morris is in court this morning and can’t be reached.”
“Can you give me that number?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give out that information.”
“Listen, I don’t have time to argue with you. I need to speak to one or the other of them right now. I’m an emergency room physician in Flagstaff, and I may have one of their family members in my ER.”
He heard a gasp on the other end.
“Well, I don’t know. I should check with—”
“All right, listen. Call Whitney and tell her to call Brett. Here’s my number. She’ll know who you’re talking about.”
Even if she didn’t remember their time together, she still knew who he was. God, I hope she calls. With a heavy sigh, he moved toward the door to check on his patient.
* * * *
“Brett called and wants me to call him?” Whitney asked the woman on the other end of the line.
“Yes, ma’am. He said it was important and that you needed to call him right away. He said he may have one of your family members in the ER there.”
“I’ll call right now.”
Whitney hung up the home phone and grabbed her cell. She quickly dialed the number her father’s new secretary gave her, praying it wasn’t one of her family that now lay in Brett’s emergency room at the hospital in Arizona.
“Hello?”
His deep baritone sent her heart racing. She still didn’t remember him other than when she woke up, but seeing him and hearing his voice gave her goose bumps.
“Brett?”
“Whitney?”
“Yes. What’s going on? My father’s secretary called and said—”
“I need to ask you a question. What are your sisters’ names?”
“Why?”
Sullivan, Sandy - Unexpected Lovers [Between the Sheets 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 9