***
“Still unconscious,” I said with something like a sigh.
“What did the doctors say?”
“That we have to wait. That’s what they’ve been saying since the day of accident.”
“Then I’m sure they’re right,” Margaret said. “That’s what they went to school for a billion years for, right?”
“Yeah, well, I just wish something would happen. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that just gets worse with every passing hour.”
“Harley’s strong. She’ll be fine. Besides, she needs to get down here and finish this mural.”
“I think the mural is the least of her problems at the moment. When she wakes up, the orthopedist says she’s got months of physical therapy to look forward to with that broken leg.”
“What about the two of you? What do you think—?”
Something made me turn as Margaret spoke. I knew what she was going to say, so I was only half listening. Maybe she made a sound. Or maybe it was just a change in her breathing. But something had changed.
Harley’s eyes were open. And she was staring right at me.
“Margaret, I have to go. Harley’s awake.”
Chapter 6
Harley
I watched him move the phone from his ear and slip it into his pocket. And then he came toward me, a smile of such pleasure on his lips that I couldn’t help but stare.
“Hey, babe,” he said so softly that it was almost like a physical caress. “How’re you doing?”
I stared at him, taking in the dark hair, the five o’clock shadow on his wide, sexy jaw. He had blue eyes that were dark and deep, like a swimming pool late in the summer. And that smile…
“Who are you?”
The smile disappeared, as he tilted his head and studied me, looking for something that I was pretty sure wasn’t there.
“It’s me, Harley,” he said. “Xander.”
“Xander?”
“Xander Boggs. Your fiancé?”
I shook my head, scooting back a little against the thin pillow under my head. “I don’t know you.”
“Harley…”
I shook my head again, and this pain shot through my skull. I reached up and…what happened to all my hair? And why were there bandages on my bare head? And my leg, my arm…panic was beginning to build in my chest.
“What happened to me?”
“You were in an accident.”
I shook my head again, even as the evidence told me he wasn’t lying. There was a huge cast on my leg, and my right arm was in some sort of sling. I tried to pull it free, but pain sliced through my chest when I did. I lifted the sheet that covered my body and discovered a whole host of wires and tubes and strange things snaking under the hospital gown that was barely covering my body.
“I don’t understand.”
“You were out for a jog. You were hit by a car.”
But I didn’t remember that. Shouldn’t I remember that?
The door to the room burst open, and a heavyset woman walked in, a big smile on her face.
“Hello, Harley! It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Alicia Franklin. I’m one of your nurses.”
She moved up beside the bed and began fiddling with the tubes and wires, doing something I didn’t understand. I grabbed the IV tube and pulled it out of her reach.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” she said. “It’s very disorienting to wake from a long coma.”
“Coma?”
“You hit your head,” the man—Xander—said. “They had to put you in a coma while your brain healed.”
“Dr. Caliendo is on his way,” the nurse said, as though that made things all better.
Who is Dr. Caliendo? I didn’t understand what the hell was happening to me.
And then this short, handsome man walked into the room, his eyes glued to an iPad in his hands.
“Everyone out,” he said in a commanding voice without looking up.
The man—Xander—hesitated, his eyes on my face. But then he slowly walked away, the nurse moving up to his side and taking his arm, offering him support for reasons I didn’t quite understand.
Why was he upset? I was awake. Isn’t that what he wanted?
“Hello, Ms. Alistair,” the doctor said, as he came to my side. “I’m Dr. Caliendo. I’m the neurologist who has been treating you.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I realize this can be very disorienting. I’m sure they told you that you were in an accident.”
“They did.”
“You were hit by a car and the impact drove you into a solid object, head first. You fractured your skull in several places, causing bleeding in your brain. That caused pressure that we needed to reduce as quickly as possible. To do that, we placed you in a medically induced coma. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I reached up with my left hand to touch the bandages on my head. “You cut my hair.”
“We did. It was necessary to place the subdural screw that allowed us to monitor the pressure on your brain.”
“And my leg’s broken?”
“Your leg, a couple of ribs, and your collarbone. You were actually quite lucky in that there were no internal injuries other than the head injury.”
Lucky? Lucky for whom?
The doctor pulled out a flashlight and began flashing it in my eyes. It was annoying, but I didn’t say anything.
“Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
I had to think about that for a minute. The last thing I remembered was the dream I’d been trapped inside of, but I didn’t think that was what he wanted to know. I closed my eyes and thought about it for a minute.
“I remember going to class with my roommate, Amber.”
“Class?”
“Yes. Figures IV.”
The doctor tilted his head slightly. “What city were you in?”
“Austin, of course. I’ve lived in Texas all my life.”
He touched my wrist lightly. “I’m going to have them do a CT on you. Just to make sure everything’s healing right.”
“Okay.”
“You try to get some rest right now.”
I watched him go, not sure what to say or do. I could see that man standing just outside the door, a worried frown on his face when the doctor stepped out. I wondered what the doctor was saying to him. I wondered what he was saying back.
I wondered where my parents were and why they weren’t here.
Chapter 7
Xander
“Are you telling me that she’s lost five years of her life?”
Dr. Caliendo looked at me, no sign of amusement in his expression. “If that’s when she took Figures IV in college, then, yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“But then she’s forgotten all about me.”
“Not forgotten. The memories are still in there somewhere. She just can’t access them at the moment.”
“Will they come back?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. But it’s also quite possible that she will never remember them.”
“Great.”
I turned away, trying to shove the anger that was building in my chest down. It wasn’t his fault. It was whomever it was who was driving the car that hit Harley in the first place. It was my fault because she never should have been jogging downtown. Not alone. And not in such a dangerously busy place.
***
“The CT shows that the hematoma has resolved itself almost completely. And the fractures are healing quite well. There really is no medical reason to keep her here much longer. I would suggest taking her home and surrounding her with familiar things. After time, her memories might start coming back.”
I looked at him, my head spinning with his suggestion. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea. If we were alone together, maybe I could help her remember the last year of our lives together. Maybe I could remind her that she on
ce loved me enough that we were preparing to walk down the aisle, prepared to make a commitment to one another. Maybe she would remember the dreams we’d shared together.
Maybe.
“Spend time with her, Xander,” Alicia said, coming up behind me. “I’m sure she already remembers you on some level.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Caliendo said, as he brushed past me and wandered off to wherever it is doctors go when they’re no longer needed.
I stared at the door to her room, suddenly afraid to go inside. I’d practically been living in there. Thanks to the clean clothes and toiletries Jonnie had brought me, there’d been no reason to go anywhere else. It’d be nice to go home and sleep in a real bed for the first time in more than two weeks. But would Harley feel that way? Or would she be frightened to go home with someone who was essentially a stranger to her now?
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Harley was sitting up, flipping through the channels on the television. When she saw me, she turned the television off.
“Hi.”
I walked over to my familiar spot—the chair beside her bed. “How are you?”
She shrugged. “I just woke up to discover that my life has changed drastically and I have no idea what’s going on. But otherwise, I’m good.”
I smiled, relieved to see her sense of humor was still intact.
“What do you remember?”
She shrugged. “I know my name. I remember growing up in Texas on a small ranch where my parents ran a veterinarian clinic. I remember I have a younger brother and sister. And I remember going to college in Austin.”
“But nothing after that?”
She shook her head slowly, confusion bright in her eyes. “How is it possible to forget such a huge chunk of your own life?”
“You had a pretty serious head injury, Harley.”
“I know, I just…” She looked at me, tears spilling over the corners of her eyes. “You seem like such a nice guy. But I don’t remember anything about you.”
It hurt to hear her say that. Hurt more than I imagined it would. But she was awake and there didn’t appear to be any significant brain damage. That was a victory, considering. And maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe it would be an opportunity to redo everything and get it right this time.
“How did we meet?” she asked.
“You’re an artist.”
“Yeah? Do I make money at it? My dad said I’d never make money at it.”
“You make a decent living. You were the showcase artist at this little gallery in downtown Austin last August.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Not the Weston Gallery?”
“That’s the one.”
She giggled. “I’ve always loved the stuff they have there. My mom used to take me there when I was a little girl. I think that’s what made me want to be an artist.”
I nodded. It was a story she’d told me many times in the past.
“The gallery owner hired my company to set up a new security system for them. And my guy who usually does these installations was out because his wife had just had a new baby. So I went in his place.”
“And that’s where we met?”
“You were bringing in all these big, heavy canvases. I offered to help, and you told me to mind my own business.”
“Sounds like me.” She reached up to brush her hair off her face, but then realized her hair wasn’t there anymore. She dropped her hand as she drew her lip between her teeth, chewing on it like she always did when she was nervous. “Did you ask me out right then?”
“I did. But you turned me down.”
“Why?”
I hesitated, not sure how much I should tell her. Would talking about Philip just confuse her? Or would it help? I wasn’t quite sure.
But I decided to risk it.
“You’d gotten your heart broken, and you weren’t really ready to move on to someone new.”
She frowned. “Philip?”
“Yeah. He got himself engaged to another girl while he was dating you.”
I waited, watching her face closely for her reaction. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she bit her lip again, but there was no great flash of memory as far as I could tell.
“Sounds like something Philip’s dad might have done.”
“I think his dad was involved.”
She looked at me again, searching my face for something recognizable, I think. “But you and I eventually went out?”
“It took about a week for me to convince you, but you finally agreed to go to dinner with me. But when I got to your house, you were in your studio, working.”
“I do that. I lose track of time.”
“You do. Quite often.”
“You know me well, then.”
“I do.” I touched her hand lightly, but she pulled it away.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“It’s okay. I understand. You don’t really know me now. But you will. You’ll remember.”
She nodded, but it was pretty obvious she wasn’t as confident as I was trying to be.
“I think I should rest,” she said after a minute.
“Okay.” I stood and began to lean down to kiss her, but pulled back at the last moment, afraid of upsetting her. “I’ll just step outside. Just yell if you need anything.”
“I have the button,” she said, holding up the call button the nurse had shown her.
“Of course.”
I backed out of the room, reluctant to lose sight of her. The confusion on her face frightened me a little. I think I would have preferred anger to confusion.
I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket.
“Jonnie? I need you to do me a favor.”
Chapter 8
Harley
I stared up at the beautiful brick exterior of the house and tried to grasp any memory of it that might be rattling around in my damaged mind. But I couldn’t. As far as I knew, I’d never seen this house before.
Xander came around the side of the car and opened my door.
“Just give me a second to get the wheelchair.”
He was so kind. The nurses all gushed about how he spent nearly every minute at my side while I was in the coma. The nurse called Alicia said that she had to practically shove food down his throat to get him to eat, he was so worried about me. Another nurse said that he slept in the room beside me every night, that he refused to even use the lounger they’d provided because he didn’t want to be even the half dozen feet away from me.
It was all very romantic, I suppose. I mean, he really sounded like a man in love. I just wish I could remember him.
They’d reduced the cast on my leg yesterday, so now I could bend my knee a little. But they didn’t want me walking on it and, with the broken collarbone still healing, I couldn’t use crutches. So I was relegated to a wheelchair for the time being.
Xander set the chair up on the driveway and took my arm, helping me balance on one leg as I stepped out of the car and into the chair. It was an awkward dance we’d only done together once, so the choreography was a little off. But he caught me when I began to slide sideways. That was good. At least I knew I could trust him.
“The house has been closed up for…well, since your accident. But I had Jonnie come over and air it out, so hopefully it’s not too bad.”
“Who’s Jonnie?”
Xander hesitated for a second, as he carefully pushed my chair up over the lip of the front walk.
“She’s my office manager, personal assistant, secretary. Basically, anything I need, Jonnie’s just a phone call away to get it for me.”
“I guess I knew her. Before.”
“You did. You and she were actually pretty good friends. I sometimes wondered if I should be worried about how much time you spent together.”
“Really?”
“You were planning the wedding together.”
My heart sank a little. It was odd to think about planning a wedding to marry a man I couldn’t even remember. I mu
st have loved him, too. So why couldn’t I remember that?
Xander had to maneuver the chair a little to tug it up the two steps that led to the impressive front door—or doors. It was two doors with massive panels of leaded glass in the center. It really was an impressive house on the outside. I was almost afraid to see the inside.
Xander’s business must have been quite successful. But I didn’t know. I didn’t know much of anything about him. He knew all these things about me, but all I really knew was his name and what he did for a living, and I didn’t even fully understand that. And here I was, moving in with him.
Was there any wonder that I suddenly felt as though my life was spiraling out of control?
“You said my parents are on a cruise?”
“Yeah. In Europe for another couple of weeks.”
“And Philip?”
I asked the question before I had a chance to think about. I wanted to bite my tongue and take it back the moment it was out. But I couldn’t.
Xander had the doors open, and he didn’t answer as he pushed me through the threshold. The doors opened onto a massively impressive entryway of marble and dark wood and glass. The ceiling went all the way up, past two separate landings on the second and third floors of the house, the stairway an impressive, sprawling thing that was just off to the left. Xander pushed me through while I was still staring up the ceiling—there were skylights up there!—into an impressive sitting room that was decorated in light-colored fabrics, impressive paintings from a few artists I recognized right off the bat, and a wall of windows that looked out onto a brick patio and a beautifully landscaped garden.
“Is that a pool back there?”
“Yes.”
“I love to swim.”
“I know. When you weren’t jogging, you started every morning out there in the pool. It was quite a sight to wake up to.”
I blushed at the implication. I assumed we had a sexual relationship, but he’d never eluded to it until now. It was kind of…weird, but exciting in a strange sort of way.
“Philip’s in Dallas,” he said, answering the question I had unthinkingly asked. “He moved there the year after you graduated from college, you told me. Decided he was tired of following in his father’s footsteps and became a history teacher in some exclusive high school.”
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