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“Awww, come here, you silly boy.” I kissed him softly and lifted his chin to face me after his nervous declaration. “Are you trying to tell me you like me?”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “I think I do.” He picked at a mosquito bite and avoided eye contact. “Ireallylike you,” he added.
I was about to tease him about saying hethoughthe liked me, but Bo was so sweet and innocent that I couldn’t do that to him. “What if I told you that I was happy you liked me because I like you too?”
His eyes welled up and he smiled. “You do?” he whispered. “Like as a couple? Because . . . well, I like you very much.”
“Exactly like that, Bo. You and me as a team. I fight for you and you fight for me.”
He pushed me down on the dock again and forcefully kissed me. Struggling to convey how much our admission meant to him. I loved how passionate of a man Bo was. His actions spoke volumes when it came to how he used affection to express his feelings when perhaps his words weren’t enough.
He pulled his lips from mine and stared into my eyes. “I like when you use the word team to describe a relationship. I’ve always wanted to be part of a team where two people look out for one another,” he said. “I think you using the word is unbelievable. Kind of like you already knew that about me.”
I felt dizzy suddenly.
The man stood with his back to me and poured himself a drink. He turned around, his face a blur, and pointed his finger at me. “There,” he hissed. “Do you hear yourself? I don’t like that tone.”
I was spinning in place, the room flashed by like a fast-forwarded scene in a video. I reached for the sofa and sat down. “I’m not going,” I said angrily.
“Oh, yes you are,” he said, closing in on me.
I snapped back to reality when Bo tapped my arm.
“Baby?” he asked. “Where were you just now?”
I focused on his face and felt the rush of relief from being wrapped in his arms.
“I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe with me,” he quieted.
“I ha . . had . . . another one of those flashbacks,” I stammered. “There was a man in this one. I think the same man from the boat that I remembered the other day.”
“Could you make out his face?” he asked, squeezing my hand as he calmed me down. “Do you think you know him?”
I tried to recall a detail but it faded as quickly as it had come. “He was angry at me for some reason, and I felt like I was in our home,” I whispered, wondering if I should have admitted the part aboutour home.
Bo’s face went blank and I saw fear and resolution make their way into his heart. “Do you think he’s your partner . . . or husband?”
“I can’t be sure but he was familiar with the room and so was I.”
Bo sat up and crossed his legs, still holding my hand and digging deep for composure. He had a studied calmness when he was thinking of the right words to say. I had noticed that before when he wanted to share something with me, he was always mindful of how the information could be received.
“There seems to be a good chance you have someone already,” he stated. His words sliced into me and I was devastated by the thought that I might not be able to be with the caring man staring into my soul. “We should try and find out as much as we can about your memories. Anything else you remember seeing or feeling?”
I ignored his questions because I couldn’t think of anything except my feelings for him. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you, Bo,” I admitted.
“And I appreciate you saying that to me, baby, but maybe he had you first,” he reasoned, breaking my heart with his maturity. “I can’t imagine if we were together and then this happened to us.”
I began to cry. I cried because I understood I actually loved Bo. I cried because I didn’t know where I belonged. I cried because what if I had to leave him? Bo spread his legs, making space so I could scoot into the space. He cradled me in his arms and kissed the top of my head.
“I’m scared, Bo,” I whispered. “I feel like my heart is being ripped from my chest.”
He quickly readjusted me and lifted my face to his. “Afraid of him? Or something else?” he asked, suddenly on full alert. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. At least I don’t think he did,” I answered. “Not physical or anything violent, but I’m anxious about something. I’ve seen him twice in these short memory reels and each time I seem to be concerned about what he is doing or saying.”
He pursed his lips and turned away for a moment before returning his gaze to me. “Do you feel love when you see him?” he asked. “Do you miss or long for him?” Leave it to Bo to ask a thought provoking question.
“I don’t feel like he loves me, Bo. Something between us is off, and I’m not saying that just so you’ll feel better either.”
