When Forever Stays (The Forever Duet)

Three

THREE

DANA

If someone told me yesterday that I was going to find Rhett Stryker washed up on the shore during my spur-of-the-moment walk, I would have told them they were crazy.

Yet here I am at an all-night big box store grabbing everything I think he’ll need while the doctor runs some tests. After checking out, I head back to the hospital.

Rhett’s smile greets me as I walk back into his room with my arms full of supplies. I set the bags on the extra chair and sit in the one next to his bed.

Rhett is donned solely in a hospital gown. His dark hair stands in contrast against all of the white in the room. From the floor to the bedding to the ceiling is all white. The once comforting smell of sea musk is now muted by the scent of disinfectant.

Despite this being one of the strangest situations I’ve ever experienced, something inside me knows being here with Rhett is a God thing. It was far too random, and I don’t believe in coincidences. Maybe my urge to take a walk was so I would find him and get him the medical attention he needs. Even more strange was the fact that I had just disregarded the thought that God might have something more up His sovereign sleeve when it came to Rhett Stryker. God has a purpose for this, so I will do my best to walk in obedience and pray the Holy Spirit guides me to follow this uncertain path.

A nurse comes in and greets Rhett. “Hi, I’m Felicity. I’ll be your nurse tonight. How are you feeling right now?”

“Sore and confused,” Rhett answers honestly.

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “I heard about what happened, I’m sorry you experienced that and lost your memories.”

Rhett shrugs. “I’m grateful to be alive.”

“Me too,” she says. There’s an odd flirtiness to her tone that has my hackles rising. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”

She clicks around on the computer until a screen pops up where she can enter her notes. Felicity gets the blood pressure cuff on him and bats her eyelashes like it’s an Olympic sport.

I grab my phone and scroll through social media to distract myself from his nurse’s unprofessional behavior. I respond to a few comments on my most recent Bible study videos and ignore the creepy messages from military dad bots. When I scroll through my newsfeed, there’s a post about RJ Hemlock, the lead singer and guitarist of my favorite band, Phantom Echoes. I wonder what it could be about because none of the band members have been in the spotlight for years. Naturally, my curiosity gets the best of me.

The post shows a super blurry picture of a man lying on a bed in the hospital wearing an oxygen mask and a woman standing at his side. It looks like they’re holding hands.

The caption reads:

Pictures have just surfaced of RJ Hemlock at JSPC Hospital, where he provided a life-saving transplant to his fifteen-year-old son. According to our anonymous source, the life-saving procedure took place at least a year ago. The specifics of the surgery are unknown. His wife, who he is rumored to have married in a private ceremony after falling from stardom, is pictured beside him. Both RJ and his son are reported to be doing well.

My heart sinks a fraction at the thought of my teenage crush being married. Not that I ever had a chance with him. I silently laugh at myself for even having the ridiculous thought.

Rhett grunts and I drop my phone back in my purse, turning back to face him to make sure he’s okay.I already feel overwhelmed with this unexpected chain of events, but with Rhett’s pretty nurse giggling and blushing every time she touches him, Nurse McFlirty is on my last nerve. My only minor comfort is that Rhett’s gaze never strays far from me. It’s a stupid feeling, especially since Rhett and I are nothing to each other.Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

“Dana, sweetheart,” he calls for me in a voice that sets my insides into a frenzy and removes the bitterness creeping in.

“What?” I ask, tentatively stepping over to him.

“I just need you near me.” He searches my eyes so tenderly I almost melt into the floor. My hands move on their own accord as I brush his hair from his forehead. The movement feels far more natural than it should.

Nurse McFlirty must get the message. She purses her lips into a fake smile and tilts her head to the side haughtily.“Doctor Woodhouse will be in shortly.”

Once she’s out the door, I practically leap away from Rhett, mentally scolding myself for giving in to my jealousy. It’s time to remember why I need to keep my distance and not get pulled into this burning desire to be near him. I need to raise my defensive walls, regardless of how weak they are.

Trying to hide how flustered I am, I bolster my tone. “Well, that took an unexpected turn.” I move my hand to rest on my hip, and his eyes track the motion. A half smile rests on his lips as if he likes seeing me all riled up.

“You didn’t seem to mind coming to my rescue.”That ridiculously attractive smirk pulls up one side of his lips.

I open my mouth and then close it, unable to form an appropriate response.

He gives me a smoldering look, and his voice drops an octave. “And I am not complaining.”

I swallow hard and attempt to calm my racing heart.

Rhett must sense my unease because he says, “She was too flirty for my comfort. Besides, there’s only one woman I want flirting with me.” He winks, then adds, “I figured if she thought my sweetheart was watching it all unfold, she’d back off.”

“You realize I’m not your sweetheart though, right?” I need to make this abundantly clear, to him as well as to myself. I am not Rhett’s. Not now and technically not before. We were just two people wildly attracted to each other with amazing chemistry.

Rhett lifts a shoulder. “Maybe you should be. I may not have my memories, but from where I’m standing, you are exactly the kind of woman any man would want.” His gaze takes me in slowly from head to toe. Equal parts confusion, irritation, and allure spread through me. “I can confidently say I’m interested in exploring what we could be.”

My face catches fire, so I turn and find my purse on the chair to try and find something to keep my mind occupied. Because the flirty version of Rhett is still in there. The one who speaks his mind without holding back. The one who was and continues to be irresistible. I have to find a way to ignore this magnetic pull between us. His abandonment sent me on a downward spiral the first time, and I don’t think my heart could survive that fall again.

“You’re only giving me another pretty side of you to view, Little Siren.” His words push into my thoughts, chasing away my defenses, and brings a deeper burn to my cheeks.

Does he still feel the connection we shared? Is that why he keeps saying things that leave me melting? I shake my head at the thought. There’s no way. It's just my stupid heart aching to be wanted.

Doing my best to ignore his magnetic pull, I ask, “Are you sure you lost your memory? I’ve never heard of a person with amnesia being this flirtatious.” I look at him over my shoulder. Which is a mistake, because the heat in his gaze…well, it reminds me of things I shouldn’t be remembering. Like how good it felt to be held by him and how amazing his lips tasted.

Just when my mind starts wandering back to the night he kissed me senseless, Dr. Woodhouse comes in. As he gives me a knowing look, I pray he doesn’t say anything to make this any more awkward. Many people in the church felt as though Rhett abandoned them too, including Dr. Woodhouse, who’s an elder at my church.

“Well, Mr. Stryker, it’s nice to see you again, just not in these circumstances.”

Rhett’s brow furrows. “You know me?”

“Of course, I know you…” Dr. Woodhouse flips open Rhett’s chart and scans through his papers. “That explains it! You’re my amnesia patient.”

“Dana, could you step out–”

Rhett interrupts him, “I want her here.”

Dr. Woodhouse nods in acknowledgment, then takes a few more moments to check through Rhett’s paperwork. He looks Rhett over and jots down some notes in the chart. “Well, you don’t need me to tell you you’re banged up, but I’m happy to report you don’t have any broken bones. Your concussion is concerning, but you could have gotten into a lot more danger out in those waves.” He clicks his tongue. “I will never understand why people surf alone.”

“Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again.” Rhett motions for me to come closer and then takes my hand. “I’m just grateful Dana found me.”

Dr. Woodhouse raises a brow but stays quiet. After he finishes his assessment, he says, “Tell me exactly what happened today.”

Before Rhett can answer, Nurse McFlirtly rolls a cart into the room with thread, needles, and other supplies. Dr. Woodhouse thanks her, and she scurries out the door.

Dr. Woodhouse sits on his stool and rolls over with the cart. “Now tell me exactly what happened.”

Rhett and I team up and give him a play-by-play of everything that transpired, from me finding Rhett on the beach to our arrival at the hospital. As we talk, Dr. Woodhouse stitches up Rhett’s bicep. He places a bandage over the raw skin, snaps off his gloves, and tosses them in the trash.

He jots something else down in Rhett’s paperwork.

“You’re a lucky man,” Dr. Woodhouse says.

Rhett is silent for a long moment as he stares into space as if lost in thought. “I don’t believe in luck. I believe in God, and God set this plan in motion for a purpose. He’s the One who protected me and brought me to shore instead of further out to sea.”

Excited, I ask, “Are you getting your memories back?”

“No. I just know God is a crucial part of my life.”

“That’s a promising sign,” Dr. Woodhouse says, scribbling more in Rhett’s chart before sticking the pen back in his pocket. “I hope to see you in church this Sunday, then.”

Rhett nods. “I’d like to be there.”

Dr. Woodhouse declares Rhett safe to go home.

“Dana, can I speak to you for a minute?” Dr. Woodhouse asks, then pulls me out into the hall and pulls Rhett's door closed.

“I’d prefer if he stayed with someone, at least overnight. All his test results look good, but his amnesia and the concussion are concerning. I want to make sure his symptoms don’t worsen over the next couple of days. Would you be able to take him in?”

"It’s not that I don’t want to help him, but do you think it’s appropriate? What kind of example would I be setting for the teenage girls in my group if they found out a man I’m not married to is staying with me?” I fiddle with my necklace, running the pendant back and forth on the chain. My heart races as I imagine Rhett sleeping in the room across from mine.

“Then you tell them about the Good Samaritan.” When I give him a disbelieving look, he adds, “It’s late. I’m not sure where else he could stay.”

Dr. Woodhouse is right. It’s after midnight and the only other person who could potentially take Rhett and is still awake is Crew, and he’s only awake because he’s on a shift at the fire station.

I release a resigned sigh. “I’ll talk to Crew. He’s on shift right now, but maybe he can come over after he gets off.” I’m already dreading the conversation. I made the mistake of spilling my history with Rhett during one of my low points. Needless to say, Crew has some strong feelings toward Rhett.

Dr. Woodhouse shrugs nonchalantly. “If Crew says no, at least you know you tried. In the morning, call my wife, and explain the situation so it doesn’t look like you were trying to hide anything. I’ll talk to her when I get home too.” As the women’s ministry leader of our church, Nancy is who I need to speak to if I want to keep all of this above reproach.

That gives me an idea. “Maybe someone from church is still awake.”

Dr. Woodhouse releases an uncomfortable laugh. “I hate to break it to you, but most of the congregation’s bedtime was hours ago.”

“Can’t he stay here for one night?” I plead.

“Dana, taking in a man in need for one night isn’t going to ruin your reputation or set a poor example for your small group girls. Especially if you have Crew come and stay after his shift.”

I check the time and breathe a sigh of relief. Crew gets off in less than an hour.

I rest my hands on my hips and straighten my spine. “Fine. Rhett can stay with me, and I’ll have Crew spend the night too.”

He gives me a triumphant smile. “I knew we could work this out.” Something passes over his expression, and he says, "If you have time over the next few days, take Rhett to places he frequented. Maybe see if you can meet up with some of his previous coworkers. It may help trigger a memory.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to rein in my tumbling emotions. Yes, I’m very much drawn to Rhett. But the pain his abandonment brought on is still strong. The empathetic part of me wants to help Rhett get his memories back. But the bitter part of me wants to wash my hands of him.

“I’ll talk to Mrs. Woodhouse in the morning. Then I guess we’ll go from there.”

Dr. Woodhouse tucks Rhett’s chart into the folder on his door and turns to me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“I know this isn’t easy for you, but I agree with Rhett—God has set this all in motion. Nothing in this world happens by coincidence.”

Dr. Woodhouse’s words choke me up. I’ve experienced too many unbelievable situations that God has worked His hand in. Not that God needs to prove Himself to me, but I’ve seen Him work in ways I never could have imagined. What Dr. Woodhouse said is yet another confirmation that God is working in this situation too.

“I know,” I say with a nod.

“You’re a great woman, Dana. I’m proud to know you and even more proud of how you’re handling this. I can almost guarantee Nancy will understand and say you’re doing the right thing by taking him in. I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought otherwise.”

I muster a smile. “Thank you.”

“His nurse will be in with the discharge paperwork soon.” My heart sinks. The last person I want to see again is Nurse McFlirty.

“Okay,” I say. When Dr. Woodhouse walks down the hall, I give myself a moment to breathe. And pray.

As I walk back into the room, Rhett asks, “Are you okay?”

“As okay as can be expected.”

“You don’t have to take me in. I’ll find another place to stay.”

“You overheard us?” I thought we were out of earshot, but I was apparently wrong. Guilt pinches my chest. I hope he understands my reluctance to let him stay at my house.

He nods.

“It’s not that I don’t?—“

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I get it. Like I said, I’ll find another place to stay."

“Do you know where you live?” I ask.

“No.”

“Have you gotten any memories back since I stepped into the hall? Like maybe one of your old friends?”

“No. But?—”

“No buts; you’ll stay with me.”

A slow smile pulls up both sides of Rhett’s mouth. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“My little siren is also an angel.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle my grin. Rhett already figured out how to make me smile again, even without his memories. It was something he was able to do from the moment I stepped foot on his tennis court over a year ago. His effortless flirtation put me at ease and had me laughing before I swung the racket. It appears to be the same way this time around, even without his memories.

Grabbing my phone, I try not to let his sweet talking get the best of me. Which is difficult since his words and the glimmer of promise in his eyes make my heart race. I focus on sending a quick text to Crew, telling him I’m at the hospital and that he can let himself in after his shift if I don’t make it back to my house before him. My phone vibrates not even a few seconds after I hit send. A picture of Crew in full fireman gear and posing like a superhero pops up on my screen.

“You’re at the hospital? What happened? Why didn’t I hear about it on the scanner? Are you okay? I’m on my way.” Crew's voice is full of concern as he rattles off his questions.

“I’m fine!” I say before he can spout off more questions. I realize now that I shouldn’t have sent it without further explanation.

“I’m here with Rhett.”

“Rhett?” Crew’s voice hits a new decibel, and I pull my phone away from my ear. “You mean that no-good?—”

I give Rhett an awkward smile and shuffle out of the room and down the hallway into an empty waiting room.

“That same Rhett, yes,” I explain every minute of my crazy day as quickly as I can to prevent Crew from making any further comments about Rhett without knowing the full story.

“Rhett’s claiming that he lost his memories? Right,” Crew says in an irritated tone.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” I say.

“Have you eaten? When will you be home? I’ll bring some food for everyone.” Crew sounds more like a doting grandmother than my cousin and best friend right now. He’s always been protective of me, but this feels like a bit too much.

I’m quiet for too long, and since Crew knows me too well, he asks, “What aren’t you saying? You’re not letting that scumbag stay with you, are you?” I’m glad I made sure to put plenty of distance between me and Rhett’s room when Crew raises his voice once again.

“So what if I am?” I ask, feeling defensive of Rhett. “Besides, he’s not a scumbag,” I whisper into the phone.

“He ghosted you! You! Why would anyone ghost you?” Crew sure does know how to stroke my ego.

“I’m not sure, but God is telling me to take him in, and Dr. Woodhouse said Rhett should stay with me for at least a night to be monitored.” I wish I could talk to West and ask for his advice since he knew Rhett. But since West and my sister are still on their honeymoon, I’m stuck navigating this situation without my brother-in-law’s input.

“Really? God is telling you to live with a man?” He scoffs.

“I’m not living with him! He’s only staying for one night. If you think that’s a problem, will you take him in?” I ask, my voice rising.

Crew grunts. “No.”

“He doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Do you really think he has amnesia?” Crew’s tone is full of disbelief.

“I do,” I answer. When he started flirting with me, I questioned if his amnesia was a ruse to make me move past his abandonment. His inner flirt has been out full force. “I mean, Dr. Woodhouse seems sure that Rhett has amnesia. And other than his flirtation with me, Rhett has shown no signs of having any memories.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince more, Crew or me.

“He’s already flirting with you?” Crew asks.

I facepalm. There is no reason why I needed to share that tidbit, but I blame it on my overtired brain. “Yes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Well, he makes my heart pound like a drum and my insides turn to goo. “Angry.” Also true.

“Good. Don’t forget what he did to you.”

“I won’t.” The last thing I’ll do is let Rhett back into my heart only for him to rip it out again.

Crew releases a heavy sigh. “Fine. Do you know if he has any food allergies?”

“Not that I know of.” I tap my lip with my finger, trying to remember things he ate during our few lunch breaks together. “Pepperoni pizza would be good.”

“I’ll pick it up on my way,” Crew says then we hang up. I look at the clock on my phone and realize it’s almost two in the morning.

I take a moment to compose myself and send up another prayer for guidance before going back to Rhett’s room.

He greets me with a sad smile. “You don’t have to do this.”

His words send a new feeling of purpose through me like I was designed to take care of this man. Forever. But I don’t allow myself to dwell on it. I cannot allow myself to get more wrapped up in Rhett than I already am. My beach walk was supposed to help me dispel these desires, not turn them into a life purpose.

“I do. Right now you’re my responsibility.”

His face falls. I inwardly cringe at how callous I sound.

“That’s not what I mean. I just—I want to help you.” I pull out all the clothes I bought while out on my late-night-necessity run. I hand him the jeans, black T-shirt, and pack of socks that I bought at an all-night supercenter. When I get to the boxer briefs, I blush and drop all the clothes onto his bed. Then I grab the grocery bag of toiletries and lift it.

“I also got you some deodorant, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.”

“You’re even more of an angel than I originally thought,” Rhett says with such tenderness that I almost melt on the spot.

A thought invades my mind. Maybe there’s a reason it’s never worked out with anyone else. But then I remember what he did to me. How he left me without a word and turned me into a hopeless bachelorette.

“Don’t flatter me.” I drop the bag of toiletries on his bed. “If you need help getting dressed, I’ll?—”

“Could you?” he asks, pointing at the bandage covering his stitches and giving me an imploring look.

“I’ll help you with your shirt, but you’re gonna handle your underthings and pants on your own.”

He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows. The stupid organ in my chest goes wild. He’s forgotten everything, but somehow his flirtatious personality has stuck like gum under a desk. I step away from the curtain and pull it shut to give him privacy. I hear his grunts and mumbled frustrations.

“I’m decent,” he says, sounding breathless.

There’s a pained look on his face as I open the curtain. His chest heaves up and down as if the effort he put into getting partially dressed has drained him.

I carefully slide the neck opening over the bump on his head and tug the fabric slowly down. Once his face comes into view, he carefully slides his arms through the openings, and I pull it down over his ribs, my fingers accidentally brushing against his sides as I try to avoid his scrapes and bruises. He inhales a sharp breath and his jaw ticks but he doesn’t flinch away.

“Sorry,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat. Despite my curiosity about his inked skin and the scar I now notice on his abdomen, I do my best to focus on the task at hand and not ogle my charge.

My eyes lift to meet his, and I find him staring at me beneath hooded lids. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I-I…” I stutter.

He cracks a smile, then grabs my hand and tugs me forward. “I like having your hands on me, my little siren.”

Rhett places his hands over mine, pressing them further against his rock-hard chest. I should say, “I’m not your anything,” but all I get out is “Oh."

“We had something pretty amazing, didn’t we?” His eyes search mine as if he’ll uncover some buried truth if he looks long enough.

I swallow hard. “It was a fling.” The practiced lie is bitter on my tongue.

His gaze doesn’t stray, and I get lost in the depth of his eyes, transported back to our date. He looked at me from across the table with this same intensity. Tears spring to my eyes without my consent and I turn away. His calloused hand gently tugs on my wrist.

“There is no way it was a fling for me.” His voice is deep and rich, washing over me like my favorite song, familiar and comforting. Rhett tugs me closer, and despite the pain I felt just moments ago, I can’t fight the pull I have toward him. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened, but I am sorry,” he finishes.

Rhett’s Adam's apple bobs. The beeping machinery and hum of the air conditioner are the only sounds in the room. Despite the building moisture in my eyes, I don’t look away. He clings to me; his hand slides down my wrist even further, and he laces his fingers between mine.

If I continue spending time with him, I won’t have a choice but to let the past go and forgive him for hurting me. Because Rhett without his memories is already digging his way back into my heart. Then it hits me. Rhett with his memories is the one who left me. Eventually, Rhett will remember why he left and do it again. My foolish heart can hope all it wants, but I need to keep it guarded–I will keep it guarded. I swallow the lump in my throat and give his hand a soft squeeze, then pull away.

“The nurse will be here any minute with your wheelchair. I’m gonna go get my car and I’ll meet you out front.”