Pass Protection (Fair Catch Series, Book Five)

by Christine Kersey

  Fury built inside him, but he tamped it down. It would do no good to let his emotions take over now. It was up to him to help her heal. Once her memory returned, then they could hash it out, see if their marriage could be saved.

  His gaze went back to her. He loved her with all his heart. Had since he’d met her.

  He would do anything to help her, anything to save their marriage.

  Anything.

  Chapter Five

  “Here you go,” Greg said as he held out a glass of lemonade and a plate with a sandwich and a small bunch of grapes.

  Olivia took the proffered food with a smile, grateful that he was willing to care for her. Especially when he knew she didn’t remember him.

  “You should elevate that ankle,” he said, then he rearranged the furniture, stacking pillows for her to set her booted ankle on.

  He was right. She knew he was. She had to do her part to take care of herself. After setting her leg on the pillows, she looked at the plate on her lap. Her appetite was nearly non-existent, but she knew she needed to keep her strength up. “Thank you.”

  She wanted to ask him what had happened to her mother, but not ready to hear about a tragedy that she couldn’t deal with yet, she held back. She had enough to focus on right now.

  “When you’re done,” he said, “you need to lay down. Keep your ankle above your heart.”

  How did he know so much about these things? Was he a doctor? That would explain the beautiful house. “Okay.” Nibbling at the sandwich—turkey and avocado on whole wheat—she watched Greg out of the corner of her eye as he sat in an adjacent chair and took a large bite of his sandwich. “This is good.”

  He smiled. “It’s your favorite.”

  Startled to realize he knew more about her than she knew about herself, her appetite disappeared completely, but she continued nibbling. No reason to appear ungrateful.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  The truth was, she didn’t feel very good at all, but what did she expect? She’d been in an accident. “All right, I guess.” She set the barely eaten sandwich on her plate.

  “Do you want something for the pain?”

  “Just an aspirin.”

  “Will that be strong enough?”

  “I think so.” For some unknown reason, the thought of taking anything stronger made her distinctly uncomfortable.

  “All right,” he said as he stood.

  She watched him go. Moments later he was back. He held out his hand and Olivia saw two small white pills in his palm.

  Lifting her gaze to his, she asked, “Just aspirin?”

  He nodded. “Just aspirin.”

  His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment she was transfixed, unable to tear her eyes from his. Captivated by the frank look of love, she felt her pulse flutter.

  “Thank you,” she whispered as she took the pills from his hand, careful not to touch him longer than necessary. But even that brief moment of contact sent her pulse careening. He stayed in front of her as she placed the pills on her tongue, chasing them down with a large swallow of lemonade.

  His gaze slid to the plate on her lap before going back to her face. “Do you want me to take that?”

  “Yes. I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t eat more. I’m just not very hungry.”

  He crouched beside her, putting them eye to eye. “Olivia.” His voice was soft, his gaze tender.

  The way he looked at her, like she was a great treasure, made her heart ache. How could she have forgotten this man who so obviously loved her, who was so handsome, who was her husband? It defied reason.

  His gaze never wavered from hers. “You don’t need to apologize. All you need to do is focus on getting better. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “If you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But don’t you have to go to work?” She hadn’t meant to sound rude. Her face heated. “I’m sorry. That’s…that’s none of my business.”

  His lips curved into a smile. “It is your business, Olivia.” Then he mock-frowned. “And what did I tell you about apologizing?”

  “I’m sor—” She laughed. “Right.”

  His eyebrows rose. “In answer to your very reasonable question, no. I don’t have to go to work. At least not for a while.”

  Why not? she wanted to ask, but even though he’d said it was her business, asking would feel too much like probing into something she had no right to dig in to.

  But there was something she wanted. “Do you have more pictures you can show me? Of my past?”

  His face brightened. “Yes. You spent a lot of time putting many albums together.” He chuckled. “I’m glad all your hard work can be put to good use.” He stood, taking the plate from her lap. “Are you sure you’re up to looking at pictures right now?”

  Actually, she was exhausted, but more than that, she was desperate to get her memory back. Desperate enough to force her exhaustion aside and look at pictures.

  “I’d like to look at them.”

  He nodded. “Tell you what. Let’s get you settled in bed where you can elevate your ankle, and then I’ll gather up the albums and bring them to you.”

  Too tired to argue, Olivia nodded. In all honesty, her body was demanding that she rest.

  “Good.” He took the glass of lemonade from her outstretched hand and set it, along with the plate, on a table, then he held out her crutches. “You’re doing pretty good with these things.”

  She didn’t want to be good with them. She wanted to ditch them. Opening and closing her hands, she hoped her sore palms would get used to using them.

  Watching Olivia carefully make her way into the house, Greg wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and carry her. She looked so frail. Playing football, he’d gotten hurt plenty of times and it had never been pleasant. But seeing his wife injured broke his heart, made him want to take the pain away from her. Since that wasn’t possible, he would do the next best thing. He would do everything he could to ease her pain, to make her life bearable, to help her remember her life. To remember him.

  He followed her inside and down a hallway.

  “Make a left into that room,” he said. “That’s our bedroom.”

  At his pronouncement, Olivia froze.

  Our bedroom. Why did those words make her want to flee? Obviously it was because she didn’t remember the man who said them, the man whose life she evidently shared.

  She had to get past that, had to focus on what she knew. Greg was her husband, even if she didn’t remember him. He was trying hard to take care of her. He seemed like a good person—had to be a good person if she’d married him, right? Anyway, just because it was their room didn’t mean she had to allow him to share it with her. She would just tell him she wasn’t comfortable having him there.

  Swallowing over the nervousness that enveloped her, she worked her way over to the bed and sat on the edge, hoisting herself into position so that she was in the center, then propped herself against the pillows.

  “You need to elevate that ankle,” Greg said as he arranged a stack of pillows.

  Now that she was sitting on this extremely comfortable bed—she was glad she’d picked it out in that other life she couldn’t remember—exhaustion crashed over her.

  "You know,” she said, “I think I’m going to take a nap.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  Not wanting to flat-out tell him to leave, she said, “Would you mind closing the door?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He quirked a smile, then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  Once she was alone, Olivia let her gaze wander the room, hoping against hope that something would jump out at her and say, You remember me. You got me at such and such place. But as she took in each piece of lovely furniture, each knick-knack on the dresser, each picture hanging on the wall, each item stayed stubbornly quiet.

  Sighing in resignation th
at regaining her memory would not happen quickly or easily, Olivia slid down until she was flat on her back, then she set her booted foot on the stack of pillows. Pressure from the boot made the ball of her foot go numb. Desperately wishing she could remove the boot, but too afraid of making her broken ankle worse by doing so, she loosened the velcro straps that lay across her shin, then wiggled her toes, then she settled back against the cushions and tried to fall asleep.

  An image of Greg filled her mind, and close behind it was the memory of the wedding pictures she’d seen earlier. At least she was remembering what had happened to her since she’d woken in the hospital.

  The picture of her radiant face on her wedding day crowded out all other thoughts. She’d been happy that day. The incandescent glow of love had been unmistakable. Maybe she could fall in love with Greg again.

  The thought gave her hope, and as she finally drifted into sleep, her worries drifted away too.

  Chapter Six

  Olivia woke up screaming.

  Someone was chasing her. She didn’t know who and she didn’t know why, but it was so real that she was convinced it was actually happening.

  “What’s wrong?” Greg asked as he burst into the room and raced to her side. “Are you okay?”

  Eyes wide, mind confused, Olivia was frantic. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

  Greg’s eyebrows puckered. “Didn’t know what? What are you talking about?”

  The dream floated away, out of her reach, and the more she tried to grab it, the more elusive it became. All that remained was the feeling of panic, of knowing she was in mortal danger.

  Had it been a nightmare, or could it be…a memory?

  Shivering uncontrollably, Olivia wrapped her arms around herself.

  What was going on? Why did Olivia seem so upset? Had she remembered something?

  Greg pulled the blanket up and tucked it around her shoulders, all the while wanting to draw her into his arms and warm her with his body. “Can I get you anything? Something for the pain? Something to warm you up? Anything?”

  Her head jerked from side to side. “No.”

  “Do you want me to…leave you alone?” He hated that she kept sending him away, but he had to respect that, had to give her time.

  To his surprise—and delight—she shook her head. “No. I…I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  “How about I grab some of those albums? We can look at them together.”

  Her face brightened. “Yes. I’d like that.”

  He was back in a flash. Olivia figured he’d gathered the albums while she’d been sleeping. She sat up but didn’t make room for him to sit beside her. He would have to be satisfied with pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed.

  He set a stack of albums on the foot of the bed, then lifted the one from the top and set it on her lap. His gaze went to the tiny bit of space by her side. Pretending she didn’t notice that he was looking for room to sit, she opened the album. To her relief, he took the hint, walking across the room to where a pair of armchairs sat beside a small table. With no evident effort, he lifted the bulky chair and carried it over to the bed, setting it close to where Olivia was looking at the album.

  She hadn’t meant to, but as he’d carried the chair, her gaze had slid to his powerful biceps, sending a burst of heat to her insides. His fit and athletic body was just one more thing about him that she liked. But there had to be some things about him that bugged her, right? That was normal in a marriage, right? Not that she would know since she couldn’t even remember being married.

  Holding back a sigh, she focused on the images in front of her. Pictures of the two of them standing on pristine white sand with a stunning blue ocean behind them, their arms wrapped around each other.

  “That was on our honeymoon,” Greg said.

  “Where did we go?” Feeling a little foolish for asking, Olivia avoided looking at Greg, staring at the pictures instead.

  “The Turks and Caicos islands.”

  She nodded like she was familiar with the place, which was ridiculous. She’d never heard the name before. Well, obviously she had. She just didn’t remember hearing it. “It’s gorgeous there.”

  “We can go again,” Greg said.

  Chest tightening, Olivia didn’t respond. He was moving too fast. In her reality, she’d just met him the day before. She wasn’t ready to commit to taking a vacation with him.

  “When you’re ready,” Greg added, evidently noticing the way her body had tensed.

  Ignoring his comment—she didn’t want to say something hurtful, but she didn’t want to acknowledge his suggestion either—she turned her thoughts to the album she’d looked at in the hospital and remembered how distraught she’d been when she’d imagined her mother being dead. Maybe her mother had been at the wedding. Maybe Olivia had just missed seeing her in the pictures. Maybe her mother was perfectly fine and she hadn’t come to the hospital because… well, Olivia didn’t know why.

  Desperate to have her fears erased and her mind put at ease, Olivia decided to take another look at the album.

  “Can I see the pictures from…” She let her words trail off. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say out loud that they’d had a wedding. “Well, from the album you showed me earlier? At the hospital?”

  “Our wedding album?” he asked, clearly having no issue with stating the facts.

  Forcing herself to meet his eyes, which were focused steadily on her, she nodded. Those grey eyes. They did something to her heart, made her want to remember everything about him, everything about their lives.

  He stood and went to the pile of albums and a moment later he traded the one from their honeymoon with their wedding album.

  Olivia opened the cover and saw again how happy she’d been. Pushing down her frustration at feeling like she was looking at a stranger’s wedding, she began turning the pages, on the look-out for her mother. When she got to the end and was certain she hadn’t missed her, but that she was in none of the pictures, she turned to Greg, who was sitting in his chair but leaning on the bed so that only a few inches separated them.

  Catching her breath to feel him so close to her, when she considered that maybe she’d been right initially, that something must have happened to her mother, her heart lurched. Taking a moment to compose herself, she asked, “Where was my mother?”

  Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “You remember your mother?”

  “Of course.” It seemed absurd that she could forget the woman who’d raised her on her own, the woman she loved fiercely, the woman she would do anything for.

  “What do you remember about her?” he asked.

  What kind of a question was that? Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, she said, “Everything.”

  A look of sadness washed across his face. “How can you know that?”

  His voice was soft, but the question still irritated her. Mostly because he was right. A scoffing sound left her throat as she closed the album. “What am I not remembering?” What didn’t she know?

  “Your mother’s a wonderful woman, Olivia.”

  “I know that.” What wasn’t he telling her? Then she realized that he’d used the present tense when he’d referred to her mother. With a rush of relief, her fears that her mother had died evaporated. Even so, something was definitely wrong. “But? Why wasn’t she at our…our wedding?” There, she’d said the words out loud, admitted that there had been a wedding.

  “We don’t have to do this now.”

  “Do what?” Frustration laced her words. “Don’t coddle me. I need to know what’s going on with my mother.”

  Sighing, Greg nodded. “Okay.” Looking away, he steepled his fingers against his lips like he was trying to figure out the best way to share bad news.

  Bracing herself, Olivia gripped the comforter.

  Finally, he removed his fingers from his mouth like he was giving himself permission to speak, then he faced her. “Your mother has a drug problem.”

  Chapter
Seven

  Was this some kind of game? Some kind of trick? Olivia didn’t know what to think. The idea that her mother had a drug problem was so ludicrous as to make her nearly burst out laughing. Except that the look on Greg’s face was deadly serious. But he had to be joking. There was simply no way her mother—a straighter arrow didn’t exist—would have a problem with drugs.

  What did that mean, anyway? A drug problem. Her mother hated taking pills, always had. Her mother didn’t even drink. Saying her mother had a drug problem was like saying the sky was green. Or that the sun was ice cold. It was out of the realm of possibility. Couldn’t happen. Incomprehensible. Why on earth was Greg saying this about her mother? What was wrong with him? What was he trying to do? Why was he lying?

  Absolutely livid that he would lie to her about something so important, lie to her about the only person she actually remembered, Olivia did the only thing she could. Gritting her teeth, she glared at Greg. “Get out!”

  Greg recoiled, his eyes widening as his back went ramrod straight. “What?”

  “You heard me. Get. Out.” She set her jaw. “Now.”

  His nostrils flared, then he leapt to his feet, and with a frown in her direction, he walked out, softly closing the door behind him.

  Good riddance, she thought, then she shoved their wedding album away from her. It crashed to the floor and she heard a page tearing.

  Trembling with rage, she straightened the comforter as she tried to think.

  Why would he tell her that her mother had a drug problem? Was he trying to keep her mother away? Give her a reason why her mother hadn’t contacted her? An excuse? Was he trying to isolate her? But why? Why would he do that?

  Unless he wasn’t really her husband.

  But the pictures…

  Though she’d forgotten much, she had a vague memory that computers could do things with pictures. Change them or something. Maybe all the pictures he’d shown her had been faked.