Five
FIVE
RHETT
I just pinned Dana’s best friend to the wall. Even though my first impulse was to protect her, my second was a feeling of pure possessiveness. There is not a single ounce of me that should feel possessive over her, but I was. I still am.
Just like at the hospital when that jerk in the parking lot called her over. I didn’t like the way he looked at her or how condescending he sounded when he said “another bachelor.” It took everything in me to play it cool. Dana’s entire countenance changed when she was in his presence. As if merely sharing a space with the man brought down her mood. He clearly hurt her in the past.
If only I could remember what I did to hurt Dana.
Something tells me it was pretty serious. Yet she’s done everything she can to help me without question or complaint.
Since the moment I woke up on the beach, I’ve felt drawn to her. Her sparkling eyes, smile, and sass draw me in like a moth to a flame. Or more accurately, a sailor to a siren. My siren didn’t lure me to my death, though; she gave me a second chance at life. My siren was an angel sent by God.
When Dr. Woodhouse told me he wanted me to stay with Dana, it was a relief because it meant I got to spend more time with her. It’s selfish, but I can’t help it. Everything inside me feels right when I’m with her. She said we had nothing more than a fling, but I don’t believe her. I can’t. My reaction to her is electric. And superficial flings don’t produce electricity. I don’t need the memories to know we were more—or on our way to much more.
Dana hands Crew a bottle of water, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I’m sorry again,” I say as Crew massages his neck.
“It’s all right, man,” he responds, then guzzles his water. Crew must read the disbelief on my face because he adds, “You thought you were protecting Dana. I can’t hold a grudge for that .”
“I appreciate it.”
As if my nervous system realizes it no longer needs to be on high alert, all adrenaline leaves my body in a rush and a sharp ache spreads across my ribs. I hold my left side, the side that hurts the most. My eyes find Dana, whose expression is full of pity.
“Let me get you some ice,” Dana says before leaving me and Crew alone in the living room.
Crew eyes me skeptically, then shakes his head. He drops his voice to a snarled whisper as if he doesn’t want Dana to overhear him. “You have a lot of guts showing back up here after what you did to her.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t hold a grudge.”
“That’s a whole different grudge. You were trying to protect her then. This grudge is about you hurting her.”
My brows knit together, and I respond in a frustrated whisper. “What did I do to her? She refuses to tell me.”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t play stupid with me. Dana is the last person who deserves to be taken advantage of. I don’t buy this whole amnesia thing.” Crew puts amnesia in finger quotes.
Despite understanding his point, I can’t keep the anger from simmering in my words. “I’m not ‘playing stupid.’ I have no memories of who I am, let alone what happened between me and Dana. Believe me, I wish I did. Because then I’d do whatever I could to make things right with her.”
Crew puts the cap on the water bottle and sets it down on the side table. He takes a menacing step toward me. Despite the man’s smaller stature, the look of pure hatred in his eyes has my spine stiffening, and I prepare myself for his wrath.
“Maybe you’re not playing stupid now, but what you did was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“Tell me what it is so I can try and fix it.” I have to fight the desire to shout.
His jaw ticks, and I can see that he’s contemplating whether he should or shouldn’t tell me. I can hear Dana rummaging around in the kitchen before Crew finally says, “Over the course of a week, you managed to work your way into her heart and break it when you ghosted her.”
“I ghosted her?” I shake my head. Even with what little I know about Dana, I can’t imagine ghosting her.
“Maybe you’re just an idiot. It would explain why you left that girl without a word.” He points toward the kitchen, where Dana is getting me ice, completely unaware of what’s going on in her living room.
The pull I have toward her now, even without memories of our time together, is too strong to ignore. If I spent a week with her, and from what he’s saying, a week where she fell for me, why would I walk away? We’ve been together for less than twenty-four hours, and not a single cell in my body wants a break from her. The mere thought of being away from her brings severe dread. It’s sort of pathetic, but being with her is the stability I need while my life is on unsteady ground.
“I wish I could remember. I really do.”
He stares me down, and it takes everything in me to not shrink away. Even being almost a head shorter than me the guy is intimidating.
“Dana is the absolute best person I know. Any guy would be lucky to have her. If you so much as cause her to sniffle, you’ll have me to deal with.” He pokes my chest.
Before my brain can fully process his words or come up with a response, Dana walks back into the living room and gives me a bag of ice for my side.
Crew sits across from me. His dark glare vanishes when he looks at Dana. Her eyes shift between us, obviously seeing the dissension there.
“What did you two talk about while I was in the kitchen?” she asks.
“Guy stuff,” Crew replies, looking at me with a challenge in his expression.
Considering he and Dana are clearly close, I need to make sure I get on his good side. So instead of telling her that he threatened me, I agree with him.
“Yeah, guy stuff.”
She looks between Crew and me, clearly not believing us shown by the expression she wears but she doesn't push any further.
Crew prays, and the second I lift the pizza up to my mouth and the scent of pepperoni and melted cheese hits my nose, my stomach releases a loud grumble. I practically inhale the first two pieces and eat another two before my stomach feels satisfied. I gulp down my water, then take all of our dishes to the kitchen and load them in the dishwasher.
It’s late and my body is exhausted, but my mind needs a minute to wind down before I can fall asleep. Besides, I’m starting to feel the side effects of my concussion, and sitting helps with the dizziness.
Dana sits between me and Crew and puts on a documentary. After she presses play, Crew rolls his eyes. I have no interest in the history of wheat, so I use this opportunity to try and piece together what little I know about myself and what Crew says happened with Dana. When we drove past the resort Dana says I once worked at, a few scattered puzzle pieces of memories fell into my blank mind. But I can’t put them together. The snippets are there but they’re not enough to make sense of anything. Especially everything with Dana.
If we dated, why in the world would I have left her? Am I the type of guy who would walk away from a good thing just because? Or is there more to the story than what Dana and Crew know? Maybe there’s something I kept from Dana that explains my actions. I’m hoping and praying that I had a legitimate reason to leave—especially without a goodbye.
Hopefully, my memories will eventually come back, but the past few hours have confirmed that remembering is something I can’t force. It’s time to focus on the here and now. I sink deeper into the cushion. Crew’s arm is casually draped across the back of the couch behind Dana, but he doesn’t touch her.
More questions fill my mind: Are Dana and Crew more than friends? Nothing either of them has done makes me think they are, but what would I know? Will Dana ever forgive me for what I did? Will I ever understand or remember whatever it was?
We’re only ten minutes into the documentary, but all of these thoughts and questions are draining me. The more the narrator of this documentary drones on, the more my mind wants to give in to the need for sleep that my body is begging for.
“I really should get to bed,” I say, rubbing my face and standing.
Dana raises her arms over her head and stretches. “Me too.” She gives me a sleepy smile. “This documentary never ceases to put me to sleep.”
“Well, then get out of here, because you’re on my bed,” Crew says, stretching out his legs.
With a severe eye roll in response, Dana disappears down the hall and comes back into the living room carrying pillows and blankets, handing them over to Crew before bidding us goodnight.
“Do you stay here often?” I ask Crew.
He smirks. “I wouldn’t say often. But once you eat one of Dana’s breakfasts, you’ll understand why I use any excuse I can to stay here.” As if he remembers he hates me, his smile vanishes.
My brow furrows. “Sorry if this is a dumb question. But I think I heard Dr. Woodhouse say you’re Dana’s cousin. Is that true, or are you guys…”
He eyes me for a long second. “As much as I’d like to make you sweat, you heard Dr. Woodhouse right. Dana is my cousin. She also happens to be one of the most important people in my life. So I’m staying here tonight because I want to make sure you aren't lying about your injuries or going to try anything funny.” He eyes me suspiciously, almost studying my face. “Something about you is off.” His bluntness takes me off guard even if it shouldn’t surprise me at this point. Sure, I only have bits and pieces of my past to go off of, but something in my gut tells me Crew may be onto something. “I don’t know what it is. But I will figure it out.”
“Well, if you figure it out, let me know.”
“Trust me. I will,” Crew replies, his tone once again threatening.