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When epic friendship turns into epic romance, there’s no
possible outcome besides Happily Ever After, right?
Tom Foster hopes so, but he can’t answer that. A traumatic
brain injury during a mugging wiped out his memory. His love for Ryan Guthrie,
the man he’s learned he’s married to, is strong and true, but as each memory
returns, Tom discovers much discontent. Can they build a new foundation to
stand on, or will epic be the word that describes their marital failure?
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Panic—sharp and overwhelming. Worst headache ever.
“Hey, you okay, man?” The voice sounded far away, as if filtered through
a tunnel. Staggering, I felt steadying hands reach out and grasp my
arms. It didn’t matter. My legs had no strength, crumpling beneath me as
I opened my mouth to speak. My hand came away from my head, and I
stared dumbfounded at the slick red on my fingers.
“Oh my God,” the stranger said. My weight carried us to the ground in a
tangle of awkward limbs. The last thing I remembered was the sound of a
phone beeping and the words, “I need an ambulance at the corner of…”
***
Wincing, I opened my eyes, sucking in a sharp breath as light sliced
through me. I couldn’t suppress a moan, and it caught the attention of
two figures in chairs beside my bed, a backlit halo solidifying them
into women with straight blonde hair, brown eyes, and full lips they
worried with their teeth. My vision cleared, and the two women morphed
into one.
“Hey, Tom,” she said, jumping up when she saw my eyes open, grasping my
hand gently with a cool, dry palm, her subtle perfume wafting past my
nose. It made me smile and flinch at the same time. That’s Susie’s smell. Light,
sound, and smell were like an ice pick to my brain. I swallowed dryly,
licking my lips with a sandpaper tongue. Noticing my discomfort, Susie
held a cup in steady hands, guiding the straw between my cracked lips.
The cool liquid burst across my tongue, and I closed my eyes at the
simple pleasure. I looked at her again, seeing her worried gaze
traveling over my face.
With a moistened throat, I found I could speak, albeit croakily. “What happened, Suz?”
She laid a gentle palm to my cheek and pulled her chair over, holding my
hand. “Best guess is that you were mugged this morning. You were
wandering around Hudson Street before you collapsed. Someone saw you
bleeding and called for help. The cash was cleaned out of your wallet
and your phone was stolen. The police called your boss off one of your
business cards, and Lois called me when she couldn’t reach Ryan. The
doctors say you have a moderate concussion, and the police have no
clue.” She snorted indelicately. “Do you remember anything?”
I squinted, tried to focus, and shook my head, stopping immediately when
a stab of pain seared the back of my eyeballs. “I remember…having
dinner with Ryan at Haru for my birthday party. The cab ride home. Everything after that is…blank.”
“Your…twenty-eighth birthday party?” Susie asked, her careful tone
raising a shiver on my skin. I studied her, but her expression was
neutral.
“Yeah. That’s the one.” I tried to remember more, but frustration built,
and I didn’t have the strength to feed it, so I closed my eyes and
breathed, letting it go.
“I called Ryan after I got here. He’s on his way home from Chicago, but
there aren’t any more flights tonight. He’ll be here first thing
tomorrow.”
I pulled a surprised face. “Why did you call him if he’s out of town? And what’s he doing in Chicago?”
“Advertising convention. He would want to know, no matter what’s going
on with you two.” Worry bloomed on Susie’s face again. What did she
mean,what’s going on with you two? Nothing was going on with us, far as I knew.
“He’s leaving a work thing because his best friend got mugged? That’s
silly. He could have waited. Not like I’m going anywhere.” A wave of
fatigue crashed over me, and my eyelids drooped.
Her eyes strayed to the bandage on my head, and she put a soothing hand
on my arm, smiling. ”I’ll get the nurse to check your pain meds, but you
should sleep. Ryan will be here soon, and everything will be fine.” Her
voice sounded farther and farther away. I drifted again.
***
Hushed conversation reached my ears from voices in the hall. I strained
to hear. What came to me was disjointed, like a cell phone losing
reception.
“…trauma he experienced…short-term memory loss…full recovery…swelling of the prefrontal lobe exacerbates…”
“You mean he won’t remember the assault, or he won’t remember more than
that?” Susie’s voice cut in. The clouds in my mind began to clear, their
words no longer broken.
“The likelihood of him regaining memory of the assault is small, which
is normal for people suffering trauma, particularly in head injury
cases. In Mr. Foster’s case, his prefrontal lobe is swollen, the portion
of the brain responsible for transferring data like sight, smell, and
sound, to and from the hippocampus, or memory center. The injury he
suffered is preventing that information transfer, which means he cannot
access his memories.”
“So when the swelling goes down, he should remember, right?” Susie’s
worry was evident, and though I didn’t want her afraid for me, I felt a
flash of gratitude that she was there. I heard the doctor, but I didn’t
understand everything he said. Susie would put it in terms my addled
mind could follow. Always by my side, Susie the Sidekick, even through
the worst.
“As the swelling recedes, he may begin to recall things, or he may not.
Damage suffered to the brain is impossible to predict, and he may never
get back the time he’s lost. We won’t know until he begins to recover.”
“It doesn’t matter the significance of the memories lost? Just everything’s gone right now, and he may never get it back?”
I swallowed dryly, head pounding. I tried to ignore it, to keep listening.
“Amnesia is not exactly quantifiable. He may know his favorite color or
his favorite type of wine, but not where he lives or who is boss is. The
significance plays little part in what is and isn’t retained. Long-term
memories are less likely forgotten, so his recent past is subject to
more blanks than his childhood.”
“And this is the reason he doesn’t remember Ryan is his husband?” Susie asked.
My eyes flew open, and my body jerked at the knowledge, a flare of pain causing a sharp intake of breath. I’m married? To RYAN? My
eyes strayed down to my left hand, the plain gold band on my fourth
finger glinting marginally in the small light from the bathroom. I
hadn’t noticed it before, but now that I’d seen it, I couldn’t take my
eyes away.
“Everything may come back in the morning when Ryan arrives. Or he could
remember slowly over time, or even have everything back once he’s
immersed in his life.”
“Let’s hope so. Thank you, Doctor,” Susie’s voice was sad and hopeful all at once.
I lay back and closed my eyes, not moving when Susie came in to resume
residence in her chair. I felt guilty for pretending to be asleep, but I
was reeling and needed a minute to process. Ryan. My husband.
AJ Rose
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