Hot and Bothered - Erika Wilde Page 0,14
I’m sure this isn’t it. Watery scrambled eggs, oatmeal that looks like paste, and dry, cold toast.” She indicated each item on her tray with a point of her finger. “The only thing that looks worth eating is the fresh fruit.”
He had to agree that her breakfast didn’t look at all appetizing. “Then eat the fruit and drink your apple juice, and I’ll try to sneak in something good later.”
She grinned. “How about a pepperoni pizza?”
He chuckled at her enthusiasm, glad to see she was quickly gaining back her energy. “A big ol’ pizza box is a bit obvious, don’t you think? That’ll have to wait until you’re home.”
“Home?”
The frown creasing her brows told him that she was having a hard time placing where she lived. Which was perfect for him. “My place. We just moved in together.”
“Oh.” The one word escaped on a breathy note of sound.
He played his cards very cautiously, not wanting to upset her in any way. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Well, no, not really.” She shrugged. “I mean, if we’re engaged, that would make sense.”
She was so trusting that he had to push aside another wave of guilt that assaulted him—and remind himself that it was the only way he could keep her safe.
She sighed softly. “I just feel like I’m learning who I am all over again. Or at least parts of who I am.”
“That’s how it’ll be with certain aspects of your memory, according to the doctor.” Since she wasn’t digging into her breakfast, he filched a grape from the compote and lifted it to her mouth. When her lips automatically parted, he slipped the piece of fruit inside. “We’ll do lots of talking and that might spark those repressed parts of your memory.”
While her mouth was currently occupied, he casually brought up another subject, wanting to know what she might recall about her past. “Do you want me to contact someone in your family to let them know about your accident?”
“I don’t have any family,” she said automatically.
Surprised, he asked, “You remember that?”
“Yeah, I do,” she said, equally stunned by the knowledge. “You were testing me, weren’t you?”
As her fiancé, he should have known about her family, and was grateful that she saw his question as a way of testing her mind and memory. That would definitely work in his favor to get information from her. “Yeah, I was. What else do you remember?”
She plucked up a wedge of cantaloupe, slipped it into her mouth and thought for a moment while she chewed. “I remember that my parents died when I was about five in a house fire and I grew up in foster homes.”
Oh, wow, he thought, blown away by her confession and unable to imagine what a tumultuous and difficult childhood she must have had. He’d lost his parents, too, but at least he’d been lucky enough to have his brother, Cole, raising him and his sister, Joelle. They’d been a strong family unit—then and now. “How about relatives?”
She shook her head. “Both of my parents were only children, so I don’t have any aunts and uncles, and my grandparents are dead, too.”
He urged her to take a drink of her apple juice. “Do you remember how last night’s accident happened?”
She paused, and he could see her straining to recall details. “I remember walking with you…but I was afraid of something?”
She looked at him with uncertainty in her pale blue gaze, waiting for him to confirm her question. “Yes, you were. What were you afraid of, sweetheart?”
She closed her eyes, and her face scrunched up in an obvious attempt to force thoughts into her head.
“I…I don’t remember.” Frustrated, she dropped her head back onto the pillow and released a low, discouraging growl. “How is it that I can recall so much about my past—you, even—but I can’t remember other things? I feel like there’s a huge, gaping hole in my life.”
She sounded near to panic over her inability to control what her mind could and couldn’t recollect. Weaving their fingers together, he sought to soothe her the best he could. “I’m here for you, Natalie, for anything you want or need. Anything at all.” And he meant it, too.
She pushed her breakfast tray aside, her appetite obviously gone. “I want my memory back. All of it,” she said stubbornly.
Of course, she’d ask for a wish he couldn’t grant. Knowing she was desperate, he focused on the positive. “Tell you what, let’s concentrate on the things you do remember.”
Her