Forgetting You

by Casey, L. A.

  Pleased with the compliment, I looked away as I smiled with warm cheeks.

  “Ye never could take a compliment without gettin’ all embarrassed.”

  “Shut up,” I mumbled.

  He smiled and took his phone from my hands.

  “If ye don’t like the photo, I’ll filter it.”

  “What will that do? I never liked any of the filters Instagram had.”

  “Oh, honey,” he laughed. “There are likely seventeen thousand feckin’ filters out there now to choose from. They have apps to change the colour of your teeth, eyes, hair colour, smooth wrinkles; they can even change your face shape with the littlest tap of your fingers. No one actually looks like they do in their pictures on IG.”

  That made me pause.

  “D’you look like yourself in your pictures?”

  “Me? Yeah. I don’t care about none of that bollocks, I like the way I look.”

  “Me too.”

  “Then take a picture with me.”

  He was daring me; I could see it in his eyes.

  I sighed, long and deep. “Don’t get me hair or stitches in it, and if I look sick, just delete it. Promise?”

  With a roll of his eyes, he muttered his promise then leaned over the bed and held his phone in front of us. I stared at the camera lens instead of the screen. I pressed my face to Elliot’s and smiled, and he snapped the picture then stared at it for a few seconds.

  “Are you gonna filter it?” I questioned. “If you are, get rid of any wrinkles I’ve collected over the last few years.”

  Elliot either didn’t hear my teasing or chose to ignore me. He was staring at the screen of his phone, then he tapped on it a bunch of times and looked up at me.

  “What’d you do?”

  “Posted it and put it as my screensaver.”

  “You’re so cute.”

  I asked to see the picture and he showed it to me. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it either. I had seen my face in the mirror and saw my body whenever I looked down. What I thought was swelling from my accident wasn’t swelling at all. I had got fat. It embarrassed me, and while I hoped no one noticed, I knew they weren’t blind and could see the difference. I felt badly about myself, but when I went into Elliot’s Instagram account and saw the caption for his picture, I smiled.

  “‘My sasanach’,” I read out loud. “I always loved when you called me that.”

  Elliot took his phone back when a young nurse entered the room after knocking twice.

  “Afternoon, Noah.” She smiled and nodded her head in greeting. “I’m Sara, I’ll be looking after you today.”

  She moved her eyes to Elliot and did that thing a lot of women did when they saw him. They paused whatever they were doing – usually breathing, like this nurse did – then snapped back into focus when they realised he was real. Elliot was, without a doubt, gorgeous. The wife of one of Elliot’s friends once said that he looked like Thor with dark hair, and now that he was rocking a maintained beard, he definitely looked the part.

  I’d never admit that he looked like Thor though; his ego would never deflate.

  “Hello.” The nurse smiled at Elliot. “Are you Noah’s brother?”

  Ouch. That was a kick to my confidence, I was sister-zoned based on my appearance. I didn’t hold it against the woman, I wasn’t at my best and Elliot was always at his.

  “No,” Elliot answered, his deep voice making the woman bite her lower lip. “I’m her . . . person.”

  I looked at him and smiled. He was definitely that. My person.

  “Oh,” the nurse said, then cleared her throat. “Noah, how are you feeling? Do you need a top up on your painkillers?”

  “I’m okay for now,” I answered. “The last dose still seems to be working.”

  “Fantastic,” she said as she picked up my chart and made a note. “You’re doing beautifully – only ten days since you woke up from a coma and look at you, flying along.”

  I was glad she thought so.

  “I have a question.”

  She put my chart back down. “Shoot.”

  “Can I shower?” I enquired. “There’s only so much wet wipes and the sponge bath my mum gives me can do. I really need to give myself a good scrub-down.”

  The woman laughed. “Of course you can. I’ll grab some towels and help you with your shower.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Elliot rise to his feet, and before I could stop myself, I looked back at the nurse and smiled.

  “No need.” I jabbed my thumb in Elliot’s direction. “He’ll help me.”

  The “he” in question stumbled back into his seat, and without looking his way, I knew he was staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes. I could sense his stare as if it were burning a hole in the side of my head.

  “No problem,” the nurse continued, unaware that Elliot was having a mental breakdown. “I’ll get you some towels and—”

  “My mum has a whole bag packed for me with everything I’ll need,” I interrupted with a chuckle. “She’s well prepared.”

  The nurse grinned. “I’ll still grab you the towels, just so she doesn’t have a load of washing to do.”

  “That’s kind of you, thanks so much.”

  She spun on her heel and left the room as my eyes moved to Elliot. He still hadn’t moved, and he was still staring at me. I lifted my hand and waved it in front of his face. The movement jolted him from his trance, and he suddenly jumped to his feet.

  “Maybe the nurse should help ye, Noah.”

  He was scared – of what I wasn’t sure.

  “You’re stronger than she is; if I fall, there’s a better chance that you’d catch me.”

  I was manipulating him a little bit, and he looked so stressed out over it that it made me grin.

  He scowled at me. “Why’re ye smilin’?”

  “Because you look scared to be locked in a room with me while I’m naked.”

  He sat back down and swallowed. He clasped his hands together on his knees and I noticed one of his legs was shaking. “I’m terrified, and excited, and worried, and a bunch of other emotions,” he admitted as he ran his hand through his dark hair. “I haven’t been close to you without clothes on in years.”

  I reached over and grabbed his unsteady hand.

  “I need you, Elliot. I need your help, not a stranger’s.”

  He exhaled a breath. “You’re a little witch. I know good and well ye just want me alone. Don’t even try and deny it, I can see it in those pretty greens of yours.”

  Unashamed, I shrugged as my grin deepened, making him laugh. He got to his feet, placed his hands on his hips and nodded once.

  “Let’s get ye washed now, because if we wait until later, I’ll drive meself insane thinkin’ about it. I may run all the way home, so let’s get to it.”

  I laughed as he helped me into a sitting position. Then, with him supporting me, my feet touched the floor with the intent to walk for the first time since I’d woken up from my coma, and though putting any weight on my leg felt a little strange, it felt good. It felt like I was truly getting better physically. Dad had told me to take things day by day, and though I wished for the days to pass me by so I could leave the hospital, I found myself not minding being so helpless when Elliot was next to me.

  I didn’t need the aid of a crutch; Elliot took the majority of my weight as I hopped on one foot to the other side of the room. My strength wasn’t close to being back, but I managed to get into the bathroom and sat down on the fold-down seat under the shower head without collapsing from exhaustion. I was out of breath and it worried Elliot, so he crouched down next to me and searched my eyes for signs of pain. I wouldn’t put it by him to pick me up and put me back in bed if he thought I was hurt in any way.

  “I did it.” I beamed as joy bubbled up inside my chest. “I got in here.”

  I was glad I was seated because the smile Elliot shot my way would have knocked me off my feet otherwise.

  “Stay here,” he
said. “I’ll get the towels off of the nurse.”

  I nodded, and when he left the room and closed the door behind him, I began to undress. After moving out of the ICU, I’d started wearing pyjamas instead of hospital gowns. When I began to strip out of my top, my arms got tired when it was halfway over my head. It was ridiculous what a little movement did after being bedbound for so long.

  “Shite, sorry!”

  I removed my top huffing and puffing and found Elliot in the bathroom. He was facing the closed door with his back to me.

  “Elliot.” I stared at the back of his head. “You can’t help me if you’re all the way over there.”

  “Right, sorry.”

  He put the towels on the hooks on the back of the door, then turned and crossed the room. I was shirtless and had to use his body to pull myself up. He saw how I was struggling to balance myself in order to remove the rest of my clothes.

  “You’re making things awkward for yourself. Unstrap your boot first. Sit back down.”

  I did as I was told, and sat back while Elliot undid the strap on my boot and removed it. The compression of the boot disappeared and my leg felt so weird without it. It had been taken off a few times over the last week, but I still frowned when I looked at the brand-new scar on my leg. The scabs had fallen off and now it was just a big, chunky, jagged red line.

  “My poor leg,” I sighed. “I’ll never be a footballer now.”

  Elliot snorted and helped me up. I placed my foot on the ground but didn’t put a whole lot of weight on it. I was awkwardly trying to tug down my shorts and underwear with one hand as I used the other to hold on to Elliot to keep my balance. He helped me without a word.

  “This is absolutely mortifying.” My cheeks burned. “I didn’t think you’d have to do this, I’m sorry.”

  Elliot didn’t answer nor did he drop his eyes once as he removed my shorts and knickers. He grabbed my top from the ground and then placed my clothes on the far side of the room. When he came back, he put his hands on my waist and said, “Turn the water on.”

  “No,” I gasped. “You’ll get soaked.”

  “I’ll get a little wet.” He shrugged. “I’ll angle myself away from it as best I can.”

  And then he could catch a chill and get sick.

  “Or you could just take off your clothes, and that way they won’t get wet?”

  Elliot’s eyes locked on mine, and he didn’t blink. I heard how my words sounded, and my cheeks continued to burn. I was making a fool of myself.

  “I mean down to your boxer briefs, not na-naked,” I stammered. “I’m not trying to get you naked, I just don’t want you to get all wet and—”

  “Noah,” Elliot interrupted with a slow smile. “I know what you meant.”

  “I’m sorry.” I looked at my hand on his arm. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  I wasn’t talking about showering, and I think Elliot knew that.

  “I’ll take off my top and jeans.” He helped me lower myself back down on to the seat. “Don’t move.”

  He removed his clothes slowly, and I knew he didn’t mean it like this, but Christ, it was like a slow striptease. I swallowed when his torso was exposed. He was so physically fit it was ridiculous; he was incredibly sexy. I always thought he fit the description of a Greek god – I remember being proud that I had someone as gorgeous as him on my arm.

  I looked down at my naked body, and humiliation scalded my cheeks. He’d been with me when I was healthy and slim and didn’t have a gut that could rival Buddha’s.

  Elliot was down to his boxer briefs and didn’t look below my neckline as he approached me, but I didn’t have that restraint. My eyes lowered to his chest as he helped me back to my feet, and I couldn’t stop myself from lifting my arm and brushing my fingers over the hair on his skin. It was a surprise to see him with chest hair because he normally waxed or shaved it . . . then I remembered why. He knew I loved to sleep with my head on his chest but his chest hair tickled my face, so he’d removed it . . . for me.

  I guess since we weren’t together, he didn’t have a reason to remove it any more.

  “Noah,” he said, his voice strained.

  I didn’t look up at him, I was in a trance staring at the body I was once so familiar with. He had four new scars on his torso – not big ones, just a few lines. I ran my fingertips over each of them.

  “What happened?”

  “Little knocks I picked up on a few watches over the years, nothin’ major.”

  Elliot was breathing heavily and his body was so incredibly tense that his veins stood out in his arms. My eyes dropped lower and I gasped when I saw he had an erection. The bulge was straining against the fabric of his underwear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I looked up at him and found his cheeks burning with . . . shame?

  I flinched. “Why? Are you embarrassed you have an erection for someone with a body like mine?”

  I recoiled away from him, but his hold on me tightened.

  “What?” he asked, his voice holding the hint of a warning. “What did ye just say?”

  “Let me go.” I struggled. “I’ll shower myself—”

  “What did ye mean?” he interrupted gruffly. “What d’ye mean, someone with a body like yours?”

  I was mortified.

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” I said, lifting my chin. “I saw your eyes, you wouldn’t look below my face. I’m different than when we were together. I’m bigger.”

  Elliot took a moment, then he cursed.

  “I didn’t look at you because I didn’t want to make ye uncomfortable,” he stated. “I’m lookin’ at you now, and I’m still hard. So fucking hard. If I wasn’t physically attracted to ye, that wouldn’t happen.”

  He was telling the truth – Elliot was never one for telling lies. He was always so forward about his thoughts and feelings; it was a trait I’d always admired. I hated liars, I hated when people chose not to be honest with a person, especially their partner. Elliot’s honesty was something I’d always valued.

  “But . . . but . . . why would you looking at me naked make you uncomfortable?”

  “Noah.” He exhaled a breath. “You’re married.”

  The reminder was like a punch to my gut.

  “I don’t know him.” I swallowed. “I know I’m his wife, I know it . . . but he isn’t in my heart like you are, Elliot.”

  “Christ.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re making this even harder.”

  I didn’t want to tease or mislead Elliot, and I repeated his words in my head until I felt dizzy. I was married. Married to another man, and even though I didn’t remember a life with him, how I felt for Elliot was disrespectful to my husband. My behaviour at this moment was inexcusable.

  “I miss you,” I said to him. “I miss your kisses, your touch, your arms around me, the feel of you inside of me. I hate that I’m married to another man . . . how can I be his wife when my heart beats for you?”

  Elliot lowered his head and pressed his forehead against mine.

  “I can’t imagine how much this hurts you, sweetheart. Ye look at me like you used to . . . I can see it in your eyes what ye feel for me. I won’t lie either, I’m happy you’re feeling the way ye are . . . but we have to be realistic, Noah. Ye could get your memories back tomorrow and any feelings ye had for Anderson could come pourin’ back.”

  His words scared me because I couldn’t imagine feeling for another man what I felt for Elliot, and a huge part of me didn’t want to.

  He kissed my cheek. “I can’t let us cross that line, no matter how much I want, need and crave ye, green eyes. I’m terrified that when you wake up from your next nap, ye’ll have all your memories back and ye’ll hate me if we do this. What if you love Anderson and this is cheatin’?”

  I felt my eyes burning with tears.

  “You have to tell me why I’m with him, why we broke up. I’m done waiting, Elliot. I have a right to know what’s happened
in my life, and you owe it to me to be the one to tell me.”

  He looked down at me, made eye contact and nodded once.

  “After ye bathe . . . we’ll talk.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Turn on the water,” he urged. “I’ll just bin me underwear and put me jeans back on once I’m dry.”

  I looked back down at his body and licked my lower lip. My head was conflicted about my situation, but my body was not. I was still so insanely attracted to Elliot that simply looking at him aroused me to the point of pain.

  “Turn around,” Elliot suddenly growled. “I’m tryin’ me fuckin’ hardest to do the right thing, but don’t push me, Noah. There only so much restraint I can have when I know ye want me like I want you.”

  Not wanting to tease him and cause further hurt, I did as he asked and turned around. He helped me, his hands holding me tightly by my waist so I wouldn’t fall.

  “Christ,” he hissed. “I’ve missed your arse. Do not complain about it bein’ bigger. I love it.”

  I could practically feel his eyes burning a pathway on my behind.

  I clenched my jaw. “I may be married, Elliot, but I can’t deny that I want you, so don’t say another bloody word. I’ve never wanted you to touch me as much as I do right now, so let’s just focus on getting me showered. Please.”

  I felt him kiss the back of my head. “You’re the boss.”

  He turned the showerhead away from us then turned the water on. When the temperature was just right, he turned it back and the water washed over me like a dream. I couldn’t contain the groan that left me.

  “Fuckin’ hell, Noah.”

  I held on to the support poles on the wall while Elliot got the shampoo, conditioner, shower gel and a washcloth.

  “I’ll wash your hair,” he told me. “I can see your wound. You can’t.”

  His voice had an edge to it, like he was angry, so I didn’t question his decision. I had twenty-six stitches that stretched back from my temple to behind my ear. They had been removed, but the jagged line was there and was no longer scabbed over. The hair on that side of my head was shaved, and that still horrified me but I reassured myself that it would grow back eventually. I leaned back against Elliot as he poured shampoo on my head and gently massaged my scalp, cleaning away weeks of dirt, grime and dried blood. My lips parted and another moan escaped me.