by Barb Han
“Will this affect her ability to do her job?” Austin asked.
“She won’t be able to go back to work without medical clearance,” Dr. Burt said. “We’ll recommend follow-up treatment as part of her rehabilitation plan.”
“What about forcing reality? Can I tell her the truth about our life?” he asked.
“That’s up to you.” He clasped his hands.
“She might not want to see me when she remembers the past,” Austin admitted.
“This has to be a difficult situation for you. If you care about her, my advice is to take it easy. Making memories flood back before the brain can handle them can cause even more distress and delay her progress,” Dr. Burt stated. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that’s not news you wanted to hear.”
Austin needed to ask another question. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer except that experience had taught him that dodging a problem usually made it worse. That was especially true with his marriage. He would have to face the music that she was involved with another man at some point. “She didn’t mention wanting to see anyone else, did she?”
“No.” Dr. Burt looked Austin square in the eye. “It seems like your situation is—” the doctor searched the white floor tile like the answer might be found there “—complicated. No one would blame you for walking away. You signed the paperwork consenting treatment, so you’ve done your part. She’ll likely recover her memory in a few days, possibly weeks, and if there’s someone else in her life, then you might not want to be around for the moment she remembers him and wants him to be the one to help her.”
The man had a point.
“Thanks for the honesty and for everything you’ve done for her,” Austin said, knowing full well that he couldn’t walk away until he knew that Maria would be okay. He hadn’t expected the call to come in the first place. He hadn’t expected to spend the next two nights at a bedside vigil, pretending to be something they were not, a happy couple. And least of all, he hadn’t expected to be the one taking her to her apartment to settle in, a place he’d never set foot in—the place where she’d moved to get away from him.
But there he was, doing it all the same.
Maria was smart, athletic and strong. Seeing her in a hospital bed, helpless, with tubes sticking out of her had been a blow that had knocked Austin back a few steps. Divorce or not, he needed to see her get back on her feet.
There was another kink. Even though she’d been cleared of her head injury, she made no progress on regaining her memories. She didn’t remember the fact that they were separated let alone on the verge of divorce. Austin had expected her fiancé to drop by at some point during the hospital stay. He’d been told on the second day that Dr. Burt had convinced him, whoever he was, to stay away for now.
Maria was quiet on the ride to her loft.
Stepping inside, she seemed as lost as he felt.
“Funny, I don’t remember this place as much as I do our house on the ranch,” Maria said, those big brown eyes of hers staring up at him as he stood in the unfamiliar surroundings of the open-concept loft. “And why do I have an apartment here in Austin away from you anyway?”
The doctor had said that her memories could come back one at a time or as an avalanche. One at a time was the best scenario, he’d said.
“To be closer to work,” Austin said, not feeling a connection to the city where she lived even though he shared its name. Lies were racking up. The doctor had said that Maria was most likely suppressing negative memories and that it was best to let her mind work everything out.
Give her time, he’d said. She’ll come around.
“Why don’t I see any of your things? Don’t you live here, too?” she asked, glancing around as she took a step toward the kitchen island.
“I’m needed on the ranch,” he said, shaking his head.
Talking to Maria like nothing was wrong, like those damn papers weren’t sitting on his desk waiting to be signed, seemed like an even worse betrayal than the day she’d walked out.
Chapter Three
“Can I sit here? I’m not really tired enough to go to bed.” Maria motioned toward the couch. “Besides, I’ve already been lying down for what feels like an eternity.”
Austin put his arm around her waist, ignoring the electricity pinging between them as he helped her to the sofa. She leaned into him and, for a second, he remembered how good her body was at molding to his. How soft her skin was...
Those thoughts were as productive as shoveling mulch with a pitchfork.
She eased down with a groan. Austin didn’t need to think it was sexy. But her voice had always had that effect on him.
Her long brown hair parted on the side now and fell way past her shoulders. She’d grown it out since he’d last seen her. And he was certain a lot of other things had changed about her since then, too.
“I never knew this many places in my body could hurt at the same time,” she said with a quick smile.
Austin forced his gaze away from her rosy lips.
“If you’d take stronger pain medicine like the doctor prescribed, you wouldn’t have to suffer.” Austin didn’t want to notice how toned that body of hers was. Her work as a special agent would ensure she stayed in tip-top physical condition. And the truth was that she loved to exercise.
“Then how will I know when I’m doing damage to something?” she asked with those big brown eyes staring at him. After she made herself comfortable, she beamed up at him and then grabbed his hand and tugged him toward her. “Besides, all those pills do is make me nauseous anyway.”
Austin straightened his back and pulled out of her grip, stuffing his hand inside his jeans pocket instead. His muscles corded with tension. He didn’t need to go there with the being-her-comfort thing. “You want anything to drink? Water?”
“Coffee sounds good.” She looked at him blankly and a little hurt. He’d spent the past two days at her side in the hospital, pretending that everything was fine. No doubt she had questions as he started to pull back. There was a mix of confusion and hurt in her eyes that he wished wasn’t his fault. Austin didn’t like putting it there but he couldn’t risk getting too close this time. He had to protect himself, too. Soon enough she’d remember that she’d gotten tired of their marriage, had classified it as a youthful mistake, and then had walked out.
Were it not for being Texan and a gentleman, he wouldn’t be here in the first place. Call it Cowboy Code or whatever but Austin couldn’t refuse someone who truly needed his help, especially not someone he’d cared about. And that’s as far as he could allow feelings for Maria Belasco to go.
His ringtone sounded, belting Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” and her face lit up. She no doubt remembered it was the song that had been playing the first time they’d met at the Cash Fest, one of the many charity events his mother had organized that had been centered around the man’s music and benefited rising talent.
Austin fished out his cell, grunted, and then turned to walk away. It was his brother Dallas on the line. Austin would call him back.
“Want to put on some music?” Maria asked, and her voice was loaded with unasked questions.
The two of them had connected on a lot of levels but the first thing that really got him was her love of the blues, rockabilly and country music. He’d play some obscure bluegrass song, and she’d know what it was. And then there was their shared love of the same books. In the back of Austin’s pickup was a dog-eared copy of The Old Man and the Sea, his all-time favorite story. Turns out that it was Maria’s, too. On top of having music and literature in common, she was determined, brilliant...and beautiful.
“I finished reading that book you gave me. Happens to Be Real.” She motioned toward the rectangular coffee table in front of her.
Austin tensed. He didn’t know what to make of the fact that
she kept the last book he’d lent her on the coffee table of the apartment she shared with another man. Although, a cursory glance didn’t reveal any men’s items at the loft. He shouldn’t feel relieved but no man wanted his nose rubbed in the fact that his ex was involved in a new relationship.
“Are we not on good terms?” she asked, and there was an innocent quality to her voice that threatened to put a chink in his armor.
Not so fast. She’d always been perceptive and he’d have to be less transparent if this was going to work.
“We’re okay,” he said with a shrug, wondering how much he should tell her. For a second, he thought about throwing out the adage that all married couples go through ups and downs and the two of them had been on a downswing. He reconsidered, not wanting to jar her memory too fast. “Nothing major.”
“Good. I was beginning to worry there for a second,” she said, and he could tell that she was going along with him while she studied the situation. Being astute had helped her rise up the ranks quickly at the Bureau.
Austin needed that coffee. Now.
“Sorry if I’m sending mixed signals. We have sick calves at the ranch and we’re trying to figure out what’s going on and just how many are affected. I haven’t been sleeping much in the last few weeks, longer than that if I’m honest.” It seemed enough information to satisfy her arched brow without causing an avalanche of questions he wasn’t supposed to answer.
Austin moved into the adjacent kitchen. The space was small but had all the essentials, including a microwave and coffee machine. Other than that, the loft was fairly bare.
There was a couch and matching chair in the living area nestled around a wooden coffee table that looked handmade. Barstools pushed up to the island in the kitchen must be where she ate all her meals since there wasn’t a dining table and chairs. A long, narrow table was pushed against the wall near the door with a bowl on it for miscellaneous items like car keys. There was a pair of running shoes at the door, so she still must wake before the cows to get in her morning run before work. Relief he had no right to own washed over Austin that there weren’t a pair of men’s shoes tucked next to hers. For a second, he wondered if Dr. Burt had instructed the new guy to erase his presence from her loft so as not to confuse her.
Adding to his theory was the fact that there were no other signs of a male presence in the place so far. No picture frames. No visible clothing, although he hadn’t been in the bathroom yet because they’d just left the hospital. Other than a lamp and a bowl, there was nothing on the table by the door to indicate she’d settled into the place. A few unpacked boxes had been pushed against one corner. The place was open concept so he could see the bed positioned in the middle of the bedroom space. Thankfully, the only clothes he could see so far were Maria’s.
“Did we move in here recently?” she asked, and she must’ve been watching him take in the space.
“This is your place in the city for those long nights at work,” he said without making eye contact.
She seemed satisfied with the answer or at least she didn’t press for more information.
“Did the doctor say when I can get back to work?” she asked as he made coffee.
Figures her first real worry would be about the job. He’d blame all their problems on her dedication to the FBI if he thought that would make him feel better. It wouldn’t. What rubbed him was the fact that she’d allowed the miscarriage to break up their marriage. No trying again. No talking about it. She’d grown distant, said it would never work between them, and then stopped coming home.
Austin stared at the bottom of an empty coffee cup. He filled it and then a second one with the warm brown liquid.
“You still take two sugars?” he asked, instantly realizing his mistake. He muttered a curse. He was no good at deception. Ranchers had the benefit of living an honest life. Not really a skill that would benefit him in this situation, he thought wryly.
Her brow arched as she nodded.
Austin could’ve kicked himself. This was going to be more difficult than he originally suspected. If playing house could help her avoid serious trauma, he’d do his level best no matter how dishonest he felt. He reminded himself of the tough childhood she’d had. Losing her mother in the way that she had, blaming herself in the way that she did. She carried a tough burden on her shoulders and he could do this if he really put his mind to it.
“Yeah,” she said with a concerned look on her face as she took the mug being offered.
He needed to give her a better explanation about their circumstances or risk stressing her out further.
“You’ve been working a lot,” he said, and that was partially true. “We haven’t spent much time together in the past year.”
“Oh. Okay. I sensed that something was going on,” she said, taking a sip of fresh brew and making a mewling noise. “This is amazing.”
Austin tried not to think about a similar sound that drew from her throat in the moments before she exploded around him when they made love.
“Yeah, it’s good,” was all he managed to say.
“It’s strange that I live here and yet I don’t remember this place,” she said. “I wish we could go home to the ranch.”
“It’s too far from the hospital and your doctors, remember?” he said, not wanting to read too much into the fact that the only place she remembered as home was his ranch. The doctor had said that head trauma could do strange things to a person.
One thing was certain, with the baby boom going on at the ranch, he couldn’t take her there. He wouldn’t risk all her memories crashing down around her triggered by the reason for the distance between them in the first place. The doctor had said that her brain would unlock pieces of reality as she renewed her daily routine. Anything else could be too fast, too traumatic. And Austin was certain that seeing their daughter’s nursery would release a flood.
As much as Austin didn’t like the idea of playing house at her loft, he could hang in there for a few more days. The place wasn’t exactly homey but there were enough essentials here to survive. All he really needed was a coffee maker and microwave, and she had both. Maria had never been much of a cook, which had never bothered Austin. They both knew enough to get by and had had more kitchen sex than probably any other room because of it. But great sex wasn’t the only thing he missed about her. He missed her quick wit, her sharp sense of humor, the way she’d seemed to understand him without even needing to talk. How did everything get so messed up between them? How had it come to this?
“I’m still a little unclear as to how I ended up in the hospital,” she said.
“You were jumped from behind,” he said. “And the guy caught you off guard.”
“Was I working?” she asked.
“No. You were off the clock and had stopped off to meet with friends.” Austin didn’t say that she was having a draft beer at the Midnight Cowboy on Sixth Street after meeting up with a group of people, one of which was most likely the guy she planned to marry.
“Now that I think about it, I remember working a lot of late hours,” she said, and then her gaze landed on him. He must’ve given a look without realizing it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. When she wasn’t in Austin she’d brought work home to the ranch with her. Her eyes had been glued to her laptop most of the time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her relaxed, like now, and her dedication to her work had only escalated the tension between them. “What else do you remember?”
“Not much. But I have a question. I’m married to you and all I do is work?” She’d forgotten all the tension between them, all the times he’d busted out the back door after her at the ranch, not knowing what to say or do to make his wife happy again.
Austin took in a sharp breath. Lucky her.
“Things are a li
ttle more complicated than that but we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked. “I can’t think of anything better to do.”
“It’s not important compared to what you’re going through right now.” It was the first honest thing he’d said since arriving at her place.
“Yeah, okay,” she said, looking frustrated. Her hand came up to her forehead as if trying to recall was giving her a headache.
“You have to take it easy,” he said, trying to soothe her without getting too close.
She looked up at him and half smiled. “You’re right. I’m sure it’ll come back. It’s just hard when it feels like everyone else knows things about my life that I don’t.”
The last doctor he’d spoken with at the university hospital had said that there was no physical reason for her memory loss. It was possible that her brain was suppressing anything it viewed as a difficult issue. If she saw being on the verge of finalizing their divorce as traumatic, her brain might just decide to push that into a shadow. Force it out and the ramifications could be overwhelming to her.
“Whatever’s going on between us that’s causing you stress, I want you to know that I’m sorry,” she said with so much sincerity and sadness.
His hands fisted to stop from reaching out to her, to being her comfort. How many nights had he stayed awake, starting at the ceiling, wishing one of them could open up before she’d left? The memory burned a hole in Austin’s chest. Remembering wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.