Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My face flushes and my skin prickles. He’s coming over here? What is he coming over here for? To say hello? To demand if I remember anything? There has to be a reason. And I’m not sure I can handle it yet, already my heart is racing and my skin is tingling. Nerves flash through my body a hundred mile an hour, and I’m terrified of not knowing what to say or do.
“Can we go for a walk?” I say to Erin quickly.
Scarlett is the first to click on, even before Erin does. She’s crafty like that. “Girl, let me show you Maverick’s bike! Do you like bikes?”
So damned grateful to her, I nod and stand, rushing away with her before Slater can reach us. Truth is, I actually don’t like bikes. I’m not entirely sure why exactly, I just don’t like them, maybe they scare me? Who knows. But I’ve never felt the need to be on the back of one, so I’m in awe of these girls, always getting around with their men on the bikes.
“You okay?” Scarlett asks as we disappear closer to the sheds, where all the bikes are, leaving the fire and Slater behind.
“Yeah,” I say, exhaling. “I don’t like running from him, it’s just...I don’t know what to say to him, you know? I know he’s hurting, and I really hate that I’m the reason he’s hurting, but I don’t want to make it worse by not remembering. To me, he’s a stranger, a familiar stranger, but a stranger all the same. I don’t know what to say to him...”
Scarlett and I sit on a few old chairs outside of the farthest shed, and she turns towards me just a little, “Have you asked a doctor about your memory loss?”
“No, but I’m going to. I know I was hit a lot, I have a lot of scars on my scalp, one behind my ear, and I was also fed a lot of drugs, so much so I spent a year withdrawing when he decided to stop them. My life is a hazy mess.”
“Do you have any memories from your life before, at all?”
I nod. “Yeah, some unclear ones from when I was a lot younger, but in the years just before he took me, it’s scattered, I see things, but not faces or people, I don’t remember names. Occasionally, I’ll have a dream, or a flash, but I don’t know if that’s real or if it isn’t. It’s frustrating, and part of me is terrified I’ll never get it back.”
“Do you,” she stares at me, narrowing her eyes as if to wonder if I’m going to take this well or not, “think it’s psychological? Like you’re suppressing your own memories?”
I’m not offended by her question.
I’ve googled a lot.
And trauma is a big cause for memory loss. The brains way of protecting itself. Combined with head injury and drugs, it’s not a wonder I’m having trouble.
“Yes, I have considered that. My time there...was a nightmare, to say the least.”
Scarlett looks sympathetic, and I don’t blame her, most people look at me like that. “I’m really sorry that happened to you, but I’m glad you’re here now. You’re one of us, even if you don’t remember your life before, to us, you’re now family because Slater is family, but also because we like you.”
I smile, because damned if that doesn’t mean the world to me. My chest warms and I reach out, grabbing her hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me, thank you.”
“We’re always here, okay? If you need anything. Now, I’m going to get up and leave, because he’s not going to stop following you around until he gets to talk to you, but I promise he won’t bite, if he does, I’ll murder him. Hey Slater.”
I spin around to see Slater standing against a motorcycle, watching us, cigarette in hand, looking so incredibly terrifying, and yet so damned handsome.
“Hey Scarlett,” he mutters. “And yeah, I don’t bite.”
Scarlett lets me go and smiles. “Yell out if he tries to bite, I’ve got a big stick.”
I laugh softly, and she disappears, leaving me alone with a man who terrifies me and yet at the same time, completely fascinates me and makes me feel a certain sense of safety that I haven’t felt in a long time. The kind of safety family brings, or a close friend. I just wish I could remember something about him, anything. Even one thing would make the world of difference.
“Terrible fuckin’ excuse you gave back there, wantin’ to look at the bikes.”
I stare at him. “What? I like bikes.”
He grunts. “You hate them. Always have. Always will.”
He...knows this?
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, because, well, he’s right.
“Bought a bike home when you and I started datin’. Took you out front with my hands over your eyes, big romantic date planned, and when I uncovered your eyes, you looked at the bike, and you know what you said to me?”