Chapter Six – Jay
Jay’s breaths came in short gasps as if he’d been running for eternity. Running for his life.
But when he turned around there was nothing there.
Nothing but the overwhelming sense of being hunted.
He pushed out his shifter senses, reaching for the unseen force that haunted his every step. Every breath.
Still nothing.
But he knew it was there. Always there.
He ran on, the mountains looming tall and jagged in his mind’s eye, their peaks dissolving into a swirling mass of dark clouds.
Once, this place had been his sanctuary. But the mountains were no longer a refuge. Now, they towered above him, casting sinister shadows over their once-familiar trails.
The place he had once turned to for peace and solitude had become unwelcoming, filled with hidden dangers.
Jay’s legs burned, his heart a frantic drumbeat in his chest. The earth crumbled beneath him, disintegrating into nothingness. He reached for a handhold, but his fingers closed around empty air.
He was falling.
The darkness rushed up to meet him, a cold void swallowing all sound, all sensation.
Jay braced for impact, ready for the pain.
Pain he deserved.
But the pain never came.
Instead, a light flickered ahead. A figure formed against the glow.
Recognition jolted through him like a lightning strike.
Alison .
Even though her features blurred at the edges, he knew it was her. He felt it deep in his bones, in the very marrow of his existence. His mate.
“Jay,” her voice was a whisper, carried on the gentlest of breezes.
He reached out, desperate to touch her, to feel that shock of recognition. To feel alive.
If only he could…
“Jay.” Her voice came again, closer now, more real.
A hand rested on his shoulder, warm, solid. His eyes flew open, his breath hitching as if he had been dragged from the depths of an ocean.
“It’s okay. It was just a dream.”
But she is real , his bear murmured in his mind.
“Alison.” His voice was hoarse as he reached up and cupped her face, grounding himself with her presence.
The light surrounding her was too bright—too sharp. He blinked, the dream dissolving like mist at dawn. The fluorescent hospital light overhead glared down at him.
Awake.
He was awake.
Alison didn’t flinch from his touch. She didn’t pull away. She simply smiled down at him, her eyes filled with concern. Concern meant for him.
Something inside him twisted, like a knot unraveling.
“Are you okay?” she asked gently.
He let his hand fall away from her face, suddenly unsure what to do with the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. “It felt so real,” he admitted.
Alison pulled up a chair beside his bed and sat down, her very presence calming him, soothing him. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
Jay hesitated. How could he explain the shadow that pursued him? The mountains turned malevolent? The stark, terrifying clarity with which he had recognized her, even in a dream?
Our mate, his bear murmured, as if taking comfort from that very fact.
But how could he tell his mate that the fear and guilt strangling him in his sleep were the same ones gnawing at him in his waking hours? Even though he didn’t know why.
“I was in the mountains again,” he said at last, choosing his words carefully. “I was running…from something. From nothing. I don’t even know.”
Alison nodded. “You were found in the mountains. You had fallen. Maybe this is a sign you are beginning to remember.”
Jay looked away, unable to bear the kindness in her eyes.
She cares , his bear reminded him.
Maybe it would be better if she didn’t , Jay countered bitterly.
Alison stood up abruptly, shifting into her professional demeanor as she checked his vitals. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Jay said automatically.
She arched an eyebrow but didn’t call him out on the lie. They both knew he was beginning to heal. At least physically. His cuts and bruises would fade in time.
But the real wounds—the ones festering in his mind—remained raw.
Alison scribbled a note on his chart, then hesitated. “It must have been good to see your family yesterday.”
Family. The word felt hollow. Alien. Perhaps because they were strangers to him.
How could he have forgotten his own mother and father?
“They’re worried,” he said flatly. “Confused. Like I am.”
Alison’s voice softened again. “It’s a difficult time for you all, Jay.” He liked her voice like this. Personal. Gentle. Not the detached professionalism she wore like armor. Even if it made things more complicated.
“I wish I could give them what they want,” he admitted. “To make it right for them. But wishing isn’t enough.”
She sighed, setting the chart aside. “You need to be patient. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Give yourself time.”
Time.
The one thing he felt he had too much of.
Time to think. To worry. To wonder who he really was.
To remember things that made no sense. Like running through the mountains, like Alison’s silhouette appearing in the darkness where she did not belong.
“Time,” he echoed under his breath.
“Have you given any thought to going home?” Alison asked.
“Home?” He scoffed. “I don’t even know what or where that is.”
“Your family home. The Thornberg Ranch.”
The name was like a whisper in his mind. A ghost of a memory that refused to take shape. A sprawling expanse of land. A weathered house at its center. Fields stretching to the horizon. A winding creek. He could almost see it, but it was like looking through frosted glass.
“I don’t remember it,” he admitted, the words thick with something close to grief.
Alison studied him for a moment. “Maybe you might if you visited.”
Could it really be that simple? Or was his amnesia a shield, protecting him from something he wasn’t ready to face?
We can’t hide forever, his bear said. We need to remember. So we can move on. So we can build a new life. A life that includes our mate.
Jay swallowed hard. “I’ll think about it.”
Alison smoothed her scrubs, a telltale sign she was preparing to leave. “I have to get back to work, but…I’m here if you need anything.”
She lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if waiting for him to say something more. Something important.
Jay opened his mouth. Then closed it again. The words he wanted to say, the ones tangled inside him, refused to come. Instead, he settled for something woefully inadequate. “Thank you.”
With a nod, Alison walked out of the room, leaving Jay alone with his thoughts. And his bear.
So, is that it? his bear grumbled.
Is what it? Jay sighed wanting peace, but his bear was having none of it.
You’re just going to lie here and wallow? There was a distinct edge of impatience in his bear’s tone.
Jay didn’t answer. Because his bear was right. He couldn’t stay here forever, hiding from the truth. Yesterday, he’d been so determined to uncover what had happened to him.
Now…
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
We need to go home, his bear said firmly. We need to remember. For her. For us.
Jay exhaled sharply. Maybe his bear was right. But then the hair on the back of his neck rose. Someone was coming. Someone he knew, he was sure of it.
He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he sensed them before the knock even came. Yet when a light tap on the door announced the visitor, Jay’s certainty wavered. If he did know the person on the other side of the door, he could not name them.
When the door swung open, a man stepped inside. A tall figure with broad shoulders and a familiar ease about him. Jay stared, searching for some kind of recognition.
Nothing.
“Jay.” It almost sounded like a question. “How are you holding up?”
Jay’s brows knitted together, trying to grasp onto something—anything. His name sounded like it should be familiar coming from this man’s lips, but there was nothing but blank emptiness in his mind.
“I’m surviving,” Jay said at last, unsure of what else to say. He shifted slightly in bed, ignoring the dull ache in his leg. “And you are?”
For the briefest moment, a flicker of hurt passed through the man’s face, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a forced smile. “It’s Klein.”
Klein . Jay turned the name over in his mind, searching for some attachment to it. Some spark of recognition. But there was only silence.
“I’m sorry,” Jay said slowly, frustration flickering beneath his words. “I...it’s all still very foggy.”
“That’s okay,” Klein said, stepping farther into the room with an easy familiarity. “I’m sure it’ll come back to you when you’re ready.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Jay asked, his tone was harder than he intended.
Klein shrugged, but there was something carefully measured in his expression. “Then you’ll make new memories. And we can fill you in on some of the other stuff.” He cracked a grin. “For one, I can tell you—I’m your favorite brother.”
Jay narrowed his eyes, was that a lie? But there was a teasing edge to Klein’s words and something about the easy way he said it made Jay think this was a game they had played before.
“You expect me to believe that?” Jay asked lightly, lifting a skeptical brow.
Klein grinned wider and plopped down into the chair beside Jay’s bed. “Absolutely.” He held up a brown paper bag, giving it a little shake. “And to prove it, I brought you your favorite breakfast.”
Jay hesitated before reaching for it. The rich scent of bacon and eggs hit him instantly, the warmth of the food bleeding through the paper, mingling with the sterile cleanliness of the hospital air. It triggered a small pang of something in him—hunger, yes, but also a kind of wistful longing. As if his body remembered what his mind could not.
“Go on,” Klein urged. “It’s not poisoned, I swear.”
Jay huffed a laugh, despite himself, and peeked inside. His stomach clenched at the sight of a breakfast burrito, stuffed full and smothered in cheese and green chili sauce. “Green chili.” The words left his lips before he had time to think about them. “I used to love this.”
“See? It’s starting to come back already.” Klein leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Jay wasn’t so sure. It didn’t feel like a memory resurfacing, more like a fact he had read somewhere. But when he took a tentative bite, the flavors hit him like a freight train.
Spicy. Savory. Familiar.
He closed his eyes, letting the taste settle on his tongue. For a brief moment, an image flickered in his mind. A kitchen? A diner? He couldn’t see it clearly, but he caught the echo of laughter, the faint hum of conversation, the clink of plates. A shadow of a memory, half-formed and fleeting, just beyond his grasp.
Jay opened his eyes to find Klein watching him intently. “We used to hit the diner for breakfast after early morning roundups.”
Jay swallowed, processing the words. “We did?”
“Yeah.” Klein nodded, his expression shifting into something more wistful. “You used to call it your wake-me-up breakfast.”
Jay took another bite, chewing slower this time.
“It’s not as good as Mom’s cooking,” Klein added after a moment. “But if you come on home, you can see that for yourself.”
Jay’s appetite wavered. The food that had tasted so good a moment ago now sat heavier in his stomach. “Is that why you’re here?”
Klein shrugged again, but this time there was a weight to it. “I’m here for whatever you need, Jay. We all are.”
Jay felt the air shift, a subtle crackling of awareness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Before he had a chance to react, the door opened once more.
His bear stirred immediately, anticipation rolling through him like a thunderstorm on the horizon.
And there she was, Alison.
She stepped inside, holding a hospital tray in her hands. “Oh, I see you have a visitor. And breakfast.” She eyed the burrito in Jay’s hand. “Wow, that smells much better than the porridge I have here.”
Jay’s pulse quickened, an instinctive response he had no control over.
But then Klein stood up, and Jay’s jaw clenched. A sharp, irrational pang of jealousy surged through him as Klein flashed Alison his easy, charming grin. Alison was his mate! And Klein needed to take a step back!
Mine, his bear growled possessively.
“Hey,” Klein said smoothly, taking a step closer. “I’m Klein. Jay’s favorite brother.”
Jay barely held back a growl. Back. Up.
Alison chuckled, her eyes flicking toward Jay with amusement. “Ah, I see.”
“And you’re Alison,” Klein continued, glancing at her hospital badge. “Mom and Dad said they met you yesterday. You’re coming over to the ranch later with your daughter, Tessa.”
“I am,” Alison confirmed, and her smile did something strange to Jay’s chest.
Something that made the decision for him.
Home.
He needed to go home.
Not just because of his family. Not just because he needed to remember who he was.
But because he couldn’t bear the thought of Alison and Tessa belonging anywhere else.
To anyone else but him.
His bear rumbled with satisfaction, as if finally—finally—Jay was making the right choice.