Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Scott
E verything in me wants to scream, “I’m your fucking husband.” My heart hammers against my chest, hoping I can control myself without an outburst. The last thing Wynter needs is for me to upset her. I take my hat off and run my hand through my hair and reposition it. She watches me intently until I say, “Sure. Drake, when you’re finished, we need to talk.”
He shakes his head and looks just past my ear instead of in the eye. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll be back. I’ll see if I can get them to let Vanessa in to see you tomorrow. It’s too late tonight.” I run the pads of my fingers over her arm, and it causes her goosebumps. Her eyes pinch, the same as she does whenever she’s confused.
“You never answered me. Why do you get to come in when you’re not my family? I mean, I know we must be good friends, but…”
“I work with the hospital both as a medical device representative and a search and rescue volunteer. It gives me special privileges. Drake, the doctor doesn’t want t o keep her awake too long, so keep it short.” Drake just nods. I bend down to kiss her forehead. “I know your mom wants to sit with you while Drake goes to work. When do you go in?”
“Midnight.”
I walk out and make my way to the nurse’s station. There are a handful of nurses standing around talking, while others go in and out of rooms. When I find Wynter’s nurse, I ask… no, I tell her, “I want him out of there in fifteen minutes. He’s not her husband, and I…”
Nancy lays her hand on my forearm. “I’ve got you. You won’t lose her.”
“I just don’t understand why she thinks she’s his wife and not mine.”
She shrugs and gives me a sympathetic expression. “Maybe because he was the last one she communicated with? It’s not my area of expertise. The neurologist will have a psychologist come to work with her if it goes on too long. We have to find a balance between upsetting her and making her symptoms worse.”
“Thanks. I’ll give you my cell number. Can you call me if anything changes? I’m going to run home and pick up some things for her and take a shower.”
I’m already sick of explaining to everyone, so I hope our friends and family have gone home. I’m surprised to see that Beau is still in the waiting room with both sets of parents.
“Oh, honey.” My mom blankets me with her love, wrapping her arms around me, and I break like china at the kid’s Thanksgiving table.
“Mom, I can’t stand watching her love someone else. Thinking she belongs to him and him to her.”
She pulls back and wip es her hands over my cheeks. “Scotty Wilson, your love is strong. She’ll remember but if you give up, what does that tell her? She needs someone who will cheer her on no matter what it means for you. Do you hear me? Be the man she needs, and I promise you’ll end up being the one she wants.”
Her parents come over and hug me. “She loves you. Stay strong.”
“I will. I’m going home to shower. Drake will be leaving so you can sit with her while she sleeps.” I press my lips together and call for Beau. “Hey, do you mind driving me home?”
“Whatever you need.”
I’m overwhelmed with exhaustion, far too fatigued to even consider driving. It doesn’t help that Drake held onto my keys, adding another layer to this tangled mess of emotions. Being around him right now feels impossible. Jealousy gnaws its way into my mind, and guilt slowly follows.
Watching him pretend to be her husband, right in front of my eyes, is a stabbing reminder of what I could lose if she doesn’t remember. Every glimpse and gesture between them cause my heart to rip the stitches holding it together.
Wynter doesn’t understand why I’m by her side, and it leaves me aching with loneliness.
Beau clicks his remote and unlocks his SUV. For a few minutes, only the sound of the vehicle lingers in the air. I take out my phone and message Drake.
Meet me at my house before you go to work.
A few minutes later, he responds with a thumb’s up emoji. Thumb’s up. Is he kidding me? I let out a hea vy breath.
Beau peeks over his shoulder and says, “Scotty, listen to me. This is awful, but I’m a firm believer that two people who love each other will find their way back to each other. Nessa and I are a prime example.”
I look straight ahead at the barren Bluegrass Parkway. Not a single pair of headlights coming toward us or a pair of taillights in front of us. It’s so desolate. As many times as I’ve traveled this road, I can’t remember thinking of it that way. It’s a major road that links central Kentucky to the western part of the state.
“This is different. Vanessa never forgot you.”
“You waited on her to come to terms with her feelings before. Just give her a chance for those memories to come back.”
I bang my head on the black leather headrest. “And what if she doesn’t?”
“Then make her fall in love with you all over again.”
“Hard to do when she thinks she’s married to our best friend. She’ll think I’m a dick for hitting on her.”
Beau takes the exit ramp toward Kissing Springs, and it’s another five miles to our hometown.
“Plus, she’s already asked why I’m allowed to see her since I’m not family. What the fuck am I going to do?” I mutter to myself, the question echoing off the car windows. Reality gnaws at me, each word tightening the invisible rope around my neck, threatening to choke me.
As we drive, we pass the familiar billboard for Barron’s Bourbon Distillery. Vanessa and Beau own it now, but to me, it’s more than just an advertisement. I’m instantly transported back to high school, when Wynter and I wer e drinking with Beau and Vanessa, and we decided to explore the deserted distillery.
The air was thick with the sweet aroma of bourbon, and laughter echoed as Wynter danced on the barrels, her zest for life infectious. I climbed up to join her, our laughter mingling, and sharing our first spontaneous kiss as friends with benefits. Beau and Vanessa went to their secret spot, so we continued to explore each other’s mouths. Each kiss built on the next. For me, it was when I knew I would be happy with this arrangement. If it were all she could give me, I would take it.
And I did.
The memory washes over me like a gentle wave, despite my current state of sadness, but it offers a brief respite from the confusion and chaos.
“You’ll do what you’ve always done. Be there by her side no matter what.” He pulls onto our street, into my driveway, and shifts gears down to park.
“None of this makes sense. Why would she be at the gorge by herself? She had photos she was using already. Why would she be there when it was dark and without texting me to let me know?”
“Go take a shower. I’m going to run home and check on Vanessa and the kids. I’ll be back in an hour, and you better be asleep.”
“Thanks, man. I don’t know where I would be without you.”
Each step I take into our empty house is one I take without her hand in mine. I’m weighed down by the ache in my heart. It’s been forty-eight hours, and the loneliness sets in, especially here. Everywhere I look—I see her wip ing the counters or writing in her journal.
Her journal. Maybe I should take her journal to her. I’ll take it and ask the doctor. I pause in the hallway on the way to our ensuite, a picture of us, smiling and carefree, captures my attention. I want to be back in that moment as memories flood my mind. We’ve had so many outdoor adventures. And so many nights of dancing at The Brown Jug or over in Whiskey Falls.
I’m reminded of my frustration when I step into the shower, the hard water stings my skin, each droplet striking like tiny needles into my skin. As the water hits me, I cry out, acting as an echo of how I feel on the inside—alone, scared, and furious.
After washing my hair and body, I change the setting to light rain and let it cascade over me, washing away the bubbles spotting my body. Sadness settles in my heart that I haven’t felt since Maverick’s brother Mark died years ago. With the weight of a bourbon barrel sitting on my chest, I crumble to the floor, thinking about Wynter falling at the gorge. The guilt for not being there with her feels like an albatross around my neck.
I wipe the fog off the glass and see a little heart pop up S + W = baby that she wrote on the shower door just two days ago when we had shower sex. Her hands were glued to the glass as she arched her back and stuck her ass out, wiggling it, daring me to enter her. She’s such a tease, and I wouldn’t want her to be any other way.
My erection slid through her folds, and her juice coated me as I entered her in one swift motion. She gasped, and I remember thinking if this is heaven, then I’m happy to die.
But as my dick stroked her relentlessly, I said, “People say heaven is on earth, and I found it. Right here, baby—inside you. It’s warm, welcoming, and it’s fucking amazing. Pure bliss.”
Standing, I rotate the shower handle, and the water drips for a moment. I reach for a towel and run it over my head forcefully, then wrap it around my waist. I lean forward, putting my hands on the counter, and look into the mirror which reflects the fear gripping me.
What would Wynter do if the roles were reversed?
I chuckle to myself. Wynter wouldn’t follow the doctor’s directions. She would do whatever she wanted. But that’s not me. I know firsthand that doctors know more than patients. Believe me, I’ve already scanned the internet for different opinions on how to handle amnesia. It’s different from dementia or Alzheimer’s because the memories usually come back and not sporadically, like in dementia.
I pull on a pair of sweats and a Stallions basketball t-shirt and head downstairs. Falling onto the couch with my legs over the arm, I place my arm over my face and close my eyes, hoping to sleep until Beau returns to take me back to the hospital. I doze for a few minutes until I’m startled by a knock on the front door.
This is Kissing Springs, and we leave the doors unlocked in this charming small town. Everyone trusts each other here, so I call out, “Come in.”
The door creaks open, then shuts with little reverberation.
“Scott?”
It’s Drake, so I swing my legs to the floor. “In the living room.”
He takes cautious and quiet steps, then sits in the chair opposite me. “I don’t have much time before work.”
I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to shake off the fog of the past two days.
Before I say anything, he adds, “She asked why I was going to work and wanted me to stay with her. I feel guilty for leaving.”
“What did you say?”
“Just that only one person could stay at a time, and if I were a parent, I would want to stay with my child. That her mom and dad insisted I go to work to keep my mind clear.”
I scoff, “And is your mind clear? You’re not her husband. I am.” There’s a discomfort between us that’s never been there before. When he doesn’t say anything, I lift my arms and let them fall in exasperation as I pace around the living room. “So, tell me everything you talked about when you brought Wynter a sandwich.”
He shrugs, “Normal stuff. The baby and cheese. Why did no one tell me she was craving cheese?”
“I didn’t know we had to report in on every little thing that happens. Drake, she’s my wife, and you’re one of our best friends but… I don’t know. I feel like you’ve been overstepping lately.”
“You’re upset and for good reason, but I’m going to work. You can’t be mad that I brought her food, can you?” He pivots toward the entry hall.
“Wait. I’m sorry. It’s just that everything changed in an instant. Are you sure you didn’t talk about anything else? Was she upset at me about something?”
Once we got our driver’s licenses as teenagers, Wynter would go to the gorge when she needed to think. Or when she was upset like when Mark died. If I’m to blame f or her going there, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to forgive myself. It’s bad enough that I wasn’t here for my pregnant wife and was unavailable if she needed to talk because I was in a surgery.
Twisting his lip, Drake answers, “Not that she mentioned. I gotta…” He crooks his thumb toward the front door. “Go.”
Beau comes in as Drake’s leaving, and I hear the whispers between them but not the content of their conversation. I take the opportunity to go down the hall to her office. She had turned the sunporch into her office, saying she’s inspired by nature. She loves looking out at the hydrangeas that Jess grew in her garden then split them, giving some to Wynter who planted them in clusters throughout the landscaping.
There’s only one wall in this room; the rest are floor-to-ceiling windows. Her desk looks directly out, but her bookshelves rest on the wall, partially behind her extra-large chaise lounge. I scoot behind it and find the journal I bought her a few weeks ago. I run my fingers over the bindings of the row of journals. I’ve never read any of them and for the first time, I’m tempted, needing to know why she went to the gorge by herself.
I pull it out and flutter the edges and it appears she hasn’t written in this one. Half-relieved, I pat it against my hand and grab some colored pens from her Rae Dunn pencil holder that says, “All things are difficult before they’re easy.”
Words to live by.