Chapter Two – Jay
His head hurt. Hurt as if someone had tried to split it in two with a rusted ax.
He opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh light overhead… A fluorescent light.
He tensed. Where…was he?
The smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils. A hospital?
But why?
He scanned the room, taking in the sterile white walls, the linoleum floor, and the beeping machinery beside his bed. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing felt familiar.
His chest tightened. What was happening?
He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to remember—anything.
How did I get here? Why am I here? A cold wave of fear washed over him, icy and suffocating as realization struck.
He didn’t even know his own name.
Panic gripped his chest, squeezing until it was hard to breathe.
Jay pushed himself up onto his elbows, only for a sharp pain to lance through his skull. The room tilted and spun, and he clutched the sides of the bed to keep from toppling over the side.
Breathe. He forced in a ragged breath and opened his eyes slowly, letting the world come back into focus at its own disjointed pace.
The beeping of the heart monitor steadied. He needed answers.
His gaze landed on a clipboard at the foot of his bed. He braced himself for the pain this time as, with trembling hands, he reached for it.
Patient Name: John Doe
John Doe .
That wasn’t his name. Was it?
No. That was what they called people with no identification. People who had no past.
An uneasy realization settled over him: they were as clueless about his identity as he was.
Someone’s coming, a voice rumbled in his mind, a familiar presence stirring inside him. His bear.
Who else do you think it is? his bear asked dryly.
What’s my name? Jay asked.
But before his bear could answer, a sensation swept over him, crashing into him with the force of a tidal wave.
Someone was coming.
Not just someone, his bear said. The one.
The door swung open.
An older woman stepped inside, carrying a bag in one hand. The moment her gaze landed on him, she froze. The bag slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a soft thud as she let out a choked cry, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Jay!”
The name echoed in his mind like a distant memory, familiar but foreign.
Was that his name?
Why didn’t it feel like it belonged to him?
“Are you okay?” A second woman, blonde-haired and dressed in a nurse’s uniform, dashed into the room. For a second she froze, surprise on her face as she locked eyes with him. Then she sprang into action and wrapped a supportive arm around the older woman as she stumbled toward the bed. “Here. Sit while I call the doctor.”
“Jay.” The older woman slumped down in the chair next to the bed and reached for his hand. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
But Jay was almost oblivious to her as he leaned forward, ready to swing his legs off the side of the bed and rush after the younger woman who had left the room as suddenly as she’d arrived. But a sharp pain in his leg made him fall back onto the pillows.
The bear within him growled, a deep rumble of recognition and confusion. As if the world had tilted on its axis.
The older woman tightened her hold on his hand, demanding his attention as tears rolled down her cheeks. “We thought we’d lost you. It’s been so long.”
How long? Jay wanted to ask, but his throat closed up, his mind fogged with pain and uncertainty.
The pounding in his head dulled to a throb, and with it came fragments—like tiny shards of a shattered mirror—of memories.
Darkness.
Pain.
Cold.
Falling.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the fragments away before they could consume him.
“Jay, say something.” The older woman’s face was a mask of hope and sorrow, her eyes searching his for any sign that he recognized her.
And how he wished he did. How he wished he could reach out and comfort her. But how could he when he didn’t know who she was and what she meant to him?
He was at a loss for words, unable to explain to her that he was just as bewildered and confused by his situation as she was.
“Jay,” she said again, more softly this time. “It’s Mom. Don’t you remember me? Don’t you remember anything?”
He squeezed her hand reflexively, desperate for some connection, some spark of recognition. Nothing came. “I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t know. Everything is just…blank.”
Her face crumpled for a moment, but then she forced herself to straighten, determination flickering behind her tears. “Memory loss is common with head injuries. The doctors will help you, Jay. You’ll remember in time.”
Would he?
The thought of reclaiming a life he didn’t remember living was more terrifying than comforting.
Who was this Jay? What kind of person had he been? And why did it feel like he was inhabiting someone else’s body, playing a role in a drama he didn’t understand?
The door opened again.
The blonde nurse walked in with a man in a white coat. The doctor, presumably.
“Mrs. Thornberg. Mary,” the doctor said, addressing the older woman. “Can I speak with you for a moment outside?”
Mary hesitated, then looked back at Jay. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, squeezing his hand before standing.
She followed the doctor into the hallway, leaving him alone with the nurse.
“How are you feeling?” the nurse asked as she moved closer to the bed.
Jay barely had time to process the question before she reached for his hand. The instant her fingers brushed his skin, heat jolted through him, sharp and electric.
And she felt it, too.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened as her lips parted in a soft, startled gasp.
There it is, his bear rumbled in satisfaction.
There what is? Jay demanded, though deep down, he already knew the answer.
His mate.
This woman—this nurse—was his mate. But it couldn’t be true.
It is, his bear assured him happily.
Jay’s stomach twisted. What was there to be happy about? What could he offer this woman with her kind eyes and compassionate smile, when he didn’t know who he was and what he was doing lying injured in a hospital bed?
Our love. Our loyalty, his bear said. Aren’t those enough?
No, Jay ground out. Not until I know who I am.
The nurse inched away slowly as if struggling against an unseen force that begged her to stay close. And he wanted her to stay close. To never leave his side.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, though Jay could tell she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. “You woke up faster than we expected.”
Woke up. The words echoed like a distant alarm in his head.
How long had he been asleep? In a coma? Unconscious?
“How long?” His own voice sounded foreign, as if it belonged to someone else. “How long have I been here?”
The nurse…
Our mate, his bear insisted.
“Four days,” she said carefully. “You were found on the mountain.”
The mountain… Dark. Pain. Falling.
He tensed and sucked in a sharp breath, but it was as if his lungs refused to inflate.
“It’s okay.” She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Just relax. You’re safe now.”
Safe. With her. His mate.
The way she spoke, it was as if she were the protector. But it was supposed to be the other way around.
He was the one born to protect.
But you failed. The words were insidious and crept into his mind like a poison. Was that how he’d ended up like this? Because he’d failed. But failed at what?
Jay clenched his fists, pushing the question away. Instead, he focused on her touch. On the warmth of her hand against his skin. It soothed him in a way nothing else ever could.
“Found on the mountain,” he murmured, trying to piece it all together. “Was I…alone?”
The nurse bit her lip, hesitation flickering across her face.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It looked like a bad fall. You’re lucky to be alive. At least, that’s what I was told.” She hesitated before adding, “I’m new in town. This is my first shift at the hospital. And you’re my first patient.”
This is not luck at work, his bear said. This is fate.
Well, fate should have protected her from me, Jay replied tartly.
How do you know that we are not exactly what she needs? his bear asked, with surprising calmness.
Jay didn’t have an answer to that. But then he didn’t have an answer to anything.
The nurse withdrew her hand and took a step back, but her eyes were fixed on him as if she were trying to decipher the enigmatic pull she felt. “I’ll go see how your mom is,” she said, turning toward the door.
“Wait,” Jay called out, more urgently than he intended. The nurse stopped and looked back, her expression filled with hope before it was replaced by one of caution. “What’s your name?”
“Alison.” She glanced down at her hospital badge.
“Alison,” he repeated, committing it to whatever part of his mind still worked, hoping that he would not forget her. “Thank you.”
She nodded, then slipped out of the room, leaving Jay alone with his thoughts. And his bear’s persistent optimism.
But he couldn’t share his bear’s joy at finally finding their mate. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, trying to trigger some flicker of recognition, some spark of memory that would explain how he’d ended up here. Or who he even was. Nothing came.
The door cracked open, and Jay tensed, hoping that it was Alison returning. Instead, Mary walked back in, alone.
Jay exhaled. Alison’s absence left a strange, hollow ache in his chest. As if a part of himself were missing.
Because it is, his bear said.
But for now, Jay didn’t want anyone else to know Alison was his mate. Least of all his mother.
But surely, she would be happy for us, his bear said.
Would she? Jay replied. He was not willing to take the risk. Or any risk where his mate was concerned. What if being our mate puts Alison in danger?
His bear sighed heavily. You’re right. We need answers.
Would his mom give them to him?
Perhaps. Or perhaps not.
Mary sat down heavily in the chair next to his bed and took his hand again. “The doctor says you should make a full recovery,” she said with a smile that didn’t hide the weariness in her eyes. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”
Jay’s gaze lingered on her face, taking in the lines around her eyes, the hopeful lift of her brows, and the barely masked anxiety behind her smile.
She was kind. Caring. And yet, he still didn’t remember her.
He squeezed her hand reflexively, searching for a connection, a spark of recognition. But it wasn’t like before.
It wasn’t like Alison.
“Mom,” he said slowly, testing the word.
Her expression flickered as if she was bracing for something painful.
Jay might not remember her, but in his heart, he knew he never wanted to cause his mom pain. But he suspected he already had.
“Why was I on the mountain?” Jay asked. “What was I doing up there?”
Mary’s face tightened ever so slightly. A micro-expression, fleeting but telling.
Was she hiding something? Was she trying to protect him? As any mother would protect her son.
“You don’t remember?” she asked carefully, as if trying not to give anything away.
“No,” Jay admitted. “Nothing.”
“Not even the accident?” Mary’s hand tightened around his.
He put a hand to his head, frustration bubbling under his skin. “Not really.”
She hesitated, then said, “Finlay and Mila found you.”
The names meant nothing to him.
“I don’t know who they are,” Jay said flatly.
“Oh, silly me, of course you don’t.” Mary let out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “Finlay is… Well, it’s a long story, but Dougray and Tammy are fostering him.” She paused. “Oh, but you don’t know who Tammy is either, do you?”
Jay didn’t have the heart to tell her he had no clue who anyone was.
It’ll all come back, his bear assured him. We just need time to heal.
Jay wasn’t sure if that was true.
“Anyway,” Mary said, offering him a sad smile, “all you really need to know is that you fell down a crevice, hit your head, and sliced open your leg. It was lucky that Finlay and Mila found you when they did…”
Her voice trailed off, but he didn’t miss the way her fingers tightened around his hand, as if the thought of what could have happened was too much to bear.
“I must thank them when I get out of here,” Jay said, though the words felt strange coming from his mouth. How could he thank someone for saving him when he didn’t even know what he’d been saved from?
Mary’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he sensed hesitation before she finally spoke again. “The doctor said you can come home in a couple of days.”
Jay tensed. “And where is home?”
For a fleeting moment, pain shadowed her face. But just as quickly, she masked it with another gentle smile. “We don’t know where you’ve been living for the past couple of years, Jay.” Her voice wavered, though she tried to keep it steady. “But you will always have a place to call home at the ranch.”
The ranch . Something stirred in the back of his mind. A sensation. A memory just out of reach.
“The Thornberg Ranch.” Mary’s voice was softer now, hopeful.
Thornberg.
The name felt heavy. Familiar. Like something he should know. Like something that belonged to him. But it still didn’t feel like him.
“You really don’t remember anything, do you?” she asked.
Jay’s throat tightened. He hated the look in her eyes, the unspoken grief, the worry she was trying so hard to contain.
“No,” he admitted hoarsely.
Mary nodded slowly as if absorbing the reality of it. “Well,” she said after a moment, “maybe when you come home, the familiar sights and sounds, not to mention smells, might jog your memory.” She gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. “And if they don’t…well, we’ll just make new ones.”
With our mate, his bear said happily.
Jay swallowed hard.
His bear might have already decided his future, but Jay knew he couldn’t have one until he reclaimed his past.
And something told him…
The truth would not be easy.