Brian didn’t even give me a ring, so Jaxon had to be speaking the truth.
What happened between me and Brian? Did I leave him for Jaxon? I’d admit, I didn’t blame myself if I did because this Jaxon guy was gorgeous.
“Your fiancé tells me that you are having some memory problems, Ms. Taylor. Can you tell me where you were born, please?” he shined a light in my right eye, then left.
“San Francisco, California,” I said as I have said a hundred times.
“What is your birthday?”
“January 15th,” I replied.
“And what’s the last thing you remember?”
“I…” My bottom lip trembled as my mind went blank. “I don’t know. What’s wrong with me? I don’t know. Why don’t I know?” I was becoming hysterical. I couldn’t breathe. The monitor started to speed up to match my pulse, but I couldn’t calm down. “I can’t… I don’t know! Why don’t I know?” I cried. “I want to know who my fiancé is. What happened to me?” I sobbed, and Jaxon came over and wrapped me in his arms, holding me against his chest as I cried.
Oh, he felt good. Safe and powerful. I found sanctuary in him while a storm rained strife inside me.
“It’s okay, Quinn. I got you. I always have you, baby. You’re safe with me. I love you.” He ran his fingers through my air as I laid my cheek against his chest, and the baritone as he spoke vibrated inside his breastbone. It was soothing and calmed me instantly.
“It’s okay, Ms. Taylor. Amnesia is common with head injuries. You smacked it pretty hard when you took that fall.”
“Fall? What fall? What happened?” I asked.
Jaxon leaned away and held up my hand that had the ring on it. “I proposed. We were walking down the mountain when you fell into a rock quarry.”
“Ouch,” I said, wincing when I thought about how painful that could have been. I was glad I couldn’t remember it, but I wasn’t glad I couldn’t remember the proposal. “I’m sorry. I bet the proposal was beautiful.”
He chuckled, but it was weak and a bit sad. “It was perfect.”
“Why can’t I remember you?” I asked Jaxon, tears ruining my vision as I stared at him. “I feel, how I feel for you, here,” I laid my hand over my heart.
“Your memory will come back as you heal, Ms. Taylor. A few days maybe a few weeks at max. Your brain showed no significant trauma. You had a nasty concussion, which is what I think is giving you the amnesia, but just in case, we will run all the tests before discharging you. You’ll stay here for a few more days, okay?” The doctor flipped the chart closed and hung it on the base of the bed. “I’ll be back in a little while to take you to get another brain scan.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” Jaxon sighed, the biggest damn sigh known to existence.
“What happened to Brian? What happened to you? Why do I have a feeling we have a lot of history?”
He glanced up and away from my face as he smoothed my hair back, smiling. “You know more than you think. Whatever you’re feeling, you’re right. We have known each other since we were sixteen, baby. We dated. We loved, and we loved hard.”
That made sense. What I felt for him was more than what I felt for Brian. “What happened? How did I end up with Brian?” I asked, interlacing our hands.
“You don’t have to,” he started to pull away from my grip, but I tightened my hand to stop him from going anywhere.
“I want to. I trust my instincts, and they are telling me you aren’t lying to me. Stay, please.” His thumb brushed over the top of my hand, and I couldn’t stop comparing the differences. His palms were so much wider, his fingers longer, and calloused. There was no softness. His hands told stories, and I bet they were the kind that would keep me up at night with the horrors they would tell.
He dragged a chair closer to the bed and sat down, keeping his hand locked with mine. “I don’t know if I should. You might run from me, and not being with you again will absolutely kill me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, but trying to convey the truth was harder when I didn’t have the security of memory backing me.
“Do you remember Tracy?” His eyes filled with so much sadness, a weighted blanked of sorrow cast through the room.
I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Wow, this fucking sucks. I don’t know if I have the heart to tell you and risk the disappointment and fear. I don’t know if I can. I should wait until your memory comes back.”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said through a smile.
He let go of my hand and stood, walked to the end of my bed, and gripped the rail. He hung his head and then snapped his head up, narrowing his eyes to slits. “You’re right. It’s worse than that. Something you blamed me for. Something that made you turn against me. Brian was a part of it. For an entire ten years, you wanted nothing to do with me, Quinn.”
Nothing was ringing a bell. I knew what I felt for Jaxon was the only thing that was familiar.
“I was accused of killing Tracy, my sister, my best friend. Brian dated her and got her pregnant. I served ten years for third-degree murder.”
The monitor skipped a beat when my heart jumped. I knew he didn’t kill Tracy but hearing the word ‘murder’ always set me on edge.
“I didn’t do it, Quinn. You will remember in time, and I know it’s scary, but I loved Tracy. I hate Brian because he killed her. I know he did. He killed her.”
“Have you killed before?” I asked, afraid to know the answer, but the danger held in his hands could be felt, and one of those horror stories that they held had to be murder.
“Yes,” he answered quickly. “I won’t get into who or why right now. You need to rest, but I didn’t kill my sister.”
“I believe you,” I said, scared to speak the truth, but the love I had for Jaxon was all I could feel right now. I needed to believe in that, in what my soul was telling me, even if I feared the damage he could cause. Again, I knew he wouldn’t bring harm to me, even without memories reassuring me, I knew. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”
“You remember how you feel for me, and honestly, that is more than enough given the situation.”
Neither of us asked the question we were really wondering— what if I never remembered?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jaxon
Three days later, the doctor allowed me to take Quinn home. She still didn’t remember anything, and every day that went by, the more nervous I got that she wouldn’t.
“You live here?” she gasped when she saw the Cliff House.
“We live here,” I corrected her, pressing the code to the garage, so the massive metal door opened.
“Holy shit,” she said like she always did.
“The holiest.” I parked the car in the garage, and the light above us came on, so we weren’t fumbling our way in the dark.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“The holiest,” I repeated, wondering if she was having a memory. I waited, hoped, and gripped the wheel tight.