Chapter 17
brANDON
Autumn is in the room.
I give her credit where it’s due. Even if I wasn’t watching her flip from one side to the other, punch her pillow, then try ten other positions to get comfortable, she’d claim being in the room counts for my request. “Last chance to sleep in this big and comfy bed where you can spread out or lie flat instead of sleeping in that recliner.”
“This is best.”
I tuck my hand behind my head, leaving the other flat on the bed to support my bandaged shoulder.
“Is it?” I’m teasing, but she’s a good sport.
A nasally scoff is her only response. I watch as she shuffles the pillow once more before she sits up and throws it on the floor. “Everything okay over there?”
“I can’t get comfortable, and it’s pissing me off.”
“Why does it piss you off?” Do I already know the answer? Absolutely. But I can only toss the offer out so many times.
She shoots me a glare that cuts through any darkness and pierces me in the chest. “I have a bed in the other room.”
“You do, and you can sleep in it if you want to.”
Lunging to her feet, she grabs the pillow and says, “Good night,” as she bolts out the door.
I’m not upset. She’s walking a precarious line between her job and what she desires. Forcing her isn’t what I want. I was hoping she would stay here with me. If not, I won’t push. “Good night.”
Her door closing echoes in response. No spite or slam.
Just a gentle closing. It’s late. She’s tired.
We got so close in the shower. Seeing the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips, her nipples pushing against the wet material of those triangle cups.
I was rock hard. Can’t blame me for seeing if another opportunity would arise between us.
It was my last chance. I called her for help since that’s what she keeps reminding me she’s here for. But she knew good and well that I could wash my body through the discomfort. And if I have no pain, she has no reason to stay.
She’s gone in the morning. She didn’t say the words, but I felt her distancing herself.
I’m a case being closed, a file tucked into a cabinet, a patient being wheeled out the door.
This is what she does. She cares for people until they don’t need her.
I might not need her, but I sure as fuck like her being here.
I roll to my side but flop back again when I can’t get comfortable.
This unfinished business is torture to the brain.
When I close my eyes, my mind reels through any memory that might have her in it.
Daniel playing hockey last season in Brooklyn.
Summer walking down the aisle two years ago.
Blue dresses in a row. Winter. Spring. Blue dress.
Flowers. Gorgeous green eyes set on mine . . . I bolt upright. “Fall.”
Autumn comes running into my room, stopping only when her hands slam into the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I grin, looking into those gorgeous eyes again. “Everything is—”
Her spine stiffens, and she takes a step back. “Wait. You called me Fall.”
“Yes,” I reply with pride. “Winter. Spring. Summer and Fall. Your sisters call you Fall.”
Her sisters call her Fall. Just that tidbit makes other aspects connect as quickly. Her sister’s wedding. I don’t remember much, but I know the bride didn’t hold a candle to the maid of honor.
“How. . .?” Her hand covers her mouth as a shake of her head takes hold. She looks down at the mattress, blinking through her thoughts. Looking back up, she asks, “How do you know that?”
Grinning like an idiot, I reply, “I remembered.”
Her shoulders sink when she releases a breath that seems to be held for too long.
She sits on the edge of the mattress, and a smile sweeps across her sweet face.
“You did?” Her hand rests on my leg. It doesn’t matter that there’s a blanket between us because her heat seeps through to warm my skin. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much, but you were in your sister’s wedding.”
Her smile grows so big you would have thought she’d won a prize for helping me get here. “I was. What do you remember from the wedding?”
“You wore blue, the color of the sky.”
She nods. “Summer’s favorite color.”
“And you had daisies.”
I’m not sure she’s even aware she’s rubbing my leg like she’s more than my nurse, but also my friend. “We did.” Reaching up, she caresses my cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Was there anything else?”
The memory extends to an unfounded emotion in her gaze when it meets mine, tipping more toward anger, but I don’t mention that. Neither of us could probably explain it anyway. “No. You looked beautiful.”
I hate that her hand falls to her lap, but that she stays makes it better. Her eyes lower, and the color deepens on her cheeks. “That’s very nice.”
“It’s true.”
When she looks up at me again, sincerity fills her eyes. “You looked good that day, too. Really dapper, Brandon.”
“Thanks.”
“Well . . .” she starts, not finishing.
Grimacing, I follow her lead. “Well?”
She thumbs over her shoulder, but she makes no effort to leave. “I should probably . . .”
“The offer still stands.”
She also stands, dragging her hands over her boxer brief-covered hips. Damn, my clothes look good on her. “I really should go.” She doesn’t go. She doesn’t take one step. Instead, she stares at me like she wants a formal invitation.
I reach over and flip the covers wide open for her. Not saying a word, I pat the mattress.
Scurrying to the other side of the bed, she says, “Twist my arm, why don’t ya.
” When she tugs the covers to her chest, I’m left exposed on my side, the little blanket hog.
“This beats the recliner any day. How is this the most comfortable bed I’ve ever lain in?
” So stubborn, but not too far gone that she can’t admit defeat in the face of pleasure.
She pushes up, and asks, “What’s this bed made of? Magic? Clouds? Wishes and dreams?”
I laugh. “Maybe it’s the company.”
That has her grinning big and loony like I was earlier. “Just might be.”
The blanket doesn’t cover my backside when I shift to angle her way without disrupting my shoulder too much. I won’t ruin this for her. She’s hopped into nurse mode, and although she’s sexy when she’s taking care of her patient—me—I’m beginning to believe that Autumn is something special.
I give the blanket a little hint of a tug. “Mind sharing?”
“Not at all.” Releasing her grip, she lies next to me like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Same. “The whole town could fit in this bed.”
Chuckling, I look at her all snuggled on her side. She does look small comparatively. No bigger than a ladybug in this bed. “I’d prefer if they didn’t, though.”
“I can imagine.” She throws her arm out and rubs it against the mattress like a one-armed snow angel.
“I’m really loving how big everything is around here.
Our house is a hundred years old. Everything is small from back in that era.
This must be what it’s like to have a modern home.
Fancy, roomy, and so quiet. Was it like this when you bought it? ”
“I designed the house.” She doesn’t have a lick of makeup on and still leaves me breathless when I look at her. “I studied architecture at university.”
She nods. “I remember hearing how well you did. You won awards.” Glancing to the far end of the room, she says, “You could win them for this design. It’s not just the bed that’s great.
Every room feels purposeful, not cold but flows as if life was planned for it.
Like a family and kids were meant to live here one day. Do you want a family, Lieutenant?”
“I want a family, a wife and kids.”
Her smile softens. “How many?”
“One wife for life is all I need, but I wouldn’t turn down eternity.”
Fanning herself with her hand, she says, “I would laugh since I was asking about how many kids you wanted, but you sure do know how to make a girl swoon.”
Her hair falls around the back of her neck with some strands hanging onto her forehead.
It’s the happiness that sparks in her eyes that is the most mesmerizing.
It’s this, what we’re doing now. Talking, playing, laughing, and flirting feels good with her.
After reading her wrong for so long, I’m finally getting it right.
Our bond tightens with each contact. “Are you swooning, Nurse?”
She’s sliding her hand across the divide like I can’t see it, and playfully pokes me in the stomach. “Fortunately, I’m already lying down, or you might have to catch me.”
“I’ll catch you anytime you need.” The freckles scattered across her nose could keep me entertained. Each one plays a vital role in adding to her beauty. To be fair, I’ve found nothing that isn’t attractive about her.
Rolling onto her back in laughter, she looks back at me. “It’s late, and you’re clearly delirious.”
“Deliriously charming.”
“I’d like to argue that, but truthfully.” She flashes a wide smile. “I can’t. You are annoyingly charming.”
Not what I expected. There’s a whole lot of buried secrets in that response. “Annoyingly, huh? If we loop back in time, do you know what happened between us? Is that why you find my charms annoying?”
“Life just got in the way.”
It’s tempting to push for more details and ask for specifics, but I probably shouldn’t dive into heavier topics at this late stage. What would she have to hide anyway?
A yawn overwhelms her face, and her eyelids momentarily dip closed right after, only confirming it’s right to let this go for another night. It’s not like I won’t see her—shit. Will I see her?
Sure. She works at the hospital. I’m in and out of there regularly. But am I really going to bother her at work?
Daniel is always a good excuse to see her and the family.
When he’s in town, he invites me over for cookouts and to watch games and stuff.
Autumn doesn’t live with him, though. She’s next door.
Fuck. Am I going to see her again? “What happens tomorrow?” I ask, sending my gaze swimming through the darkness to see her better.
This time, when she slides her hand toward me, she stops at my hand resting between us. Covering it, she gives me a little squeeze. “Tomorrow, we will stop working together. I’ll give you a few brain exercises, and you’ll get a rec for physical therapy, but you’re doing great—”
“That means we won’t see each other anymore?”
“It’s Mountain Laurel, Brandon.” She levels a look at me with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not like we have a massive population. It would be hard not to see each other in such a small town.”
I want to keep the heaviness out of my tone, but I’m feeling the stress of losing her when I just found her again.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been attracted to a woman like I am with her.
There are plenty of pretties down at the bars on Thursday night, but this isn’t the same.
That’s one night of fun. With Autumn, it feels like there’s potential for more. “You know what I mean.”
“My, my, Mr. Culver. If you’re not careful, I might get the wrong idea.”
“That’s what I’m hoping.”
Her teasing smile fades as silence slips into the room, bearing witness to the mess this is. I turn away, questioning everything. This should have been easy. I know she’s attracted to me, but the roles we’re forced to play are ruining it.
If I could only remember her, try harder to figure out the missing link that seemed to tie us together at one point and push us apart at another. I hate having a hole where she should exist. I don’t just feel it in my head. I feel it in my chest.
She slips her hand across the divide and caresses the side of my neck.
“There’s no rush to remember everything you’ve forgotten any more than we can quicken the healing that needs to take place.
Look at me.” When I do, she says, “This isn’t goodbye.
It’s—” A deep breath catches her off guard. Her gaze falls away, and she swallows.
“It’s what? What is it then?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what this is, but I won’t make promises I can’t keep.”
“As admirable as that is, I didn’t need a promise.
I need reassurance.” I’ve never had to fight for a woman—their attention or otherwise.
But these past two days have changed things.
They’ve changed me. I don’t have casual dates at my place, so her presence has taken me by surprise.
Maybe the concussion is worse than I realized, but I won’t beg.
Like the injuries, some things take time.
Like she said, this is a small town. You can’t go long without crossing paths sooner or later.
She pushes herself closer, so close her body presses to my side like it was meant to be there.
I didn’t think this would feel as good as it does.
I’m sure she’d be the first to say we barely know each other.
Not remembering any form of relationship we used to have sets us back even further, but damn if she doesn’t fit just right.
Leaning forward, she rests her head against my arm and whispers, “Everything’s going to work out exactly how it’s supposed to. ”
Somehow, her optimism is contagious, and I find myself relaxing under the idea. But just to clarify, I ask, “Are we talking about my injuries or us?”
The smallest of laughs still rattles the mattress beneath her before she snuggles against my side, arm draped over my middle as she tucks herself into the crook of my elbow. It’s funny how we couldn’t have been further apart earlier, but we’ve ended up right where we should, together in bed.
Tilting her head back, she finds my eyes and says, “Guess we’ll find out.”
Yep. Guess only time will tell.