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I almost collapse against the wall but she doesn’t notice. She strolls casually, her arms strutting and she smiles at those who get in her way and I ache again. Fuck, do I ache.
“Hey, mister!” the nurse says angrily beside me. “What do you think you’re doing? Go back to bed.”
“That’s her,” I rasp, lifting a trembling finger. “My wife.” The nurse follows the direction and lets out a stunned laugh. For some reason the laugh mocks me and I drag a deep breath, ready to fight my way to Autumn.
“That aint your wife, silly. That’s Chrissy Kissin. She’s been volunteering with us for three weeks now and she’s tended to you many times. I think she’d mention it if you were her husband.”
A pulse pounds in my temples. Chrissy Kissin. The name isn’t right but everything else about the woman is. The age (twenty), the lime green color of her eyes and the way she lets the tip of her tongue rest on the back of her upper teeth before saying something. Letting out a laugh, she rakes her fingers through her tresses and they shake seductively, coaxing out more and more of my desire until I can barely contain myself.
“Doc’s going to give you some meds and then hopefully you’ll see some sense,” the nurse says flightily and she grabs my arm. “Come on now, let’s make sure you get your rest...”
Shrugging off her arm, I growl, “Not without...wife.”
“But she’s not your wife, dammit,” the nurse says, exasperated. “She’s just a young girl trying to do her job and you’re gonna let her do that...”
Rounding my hand into a fist, I slam it into the wall. “Mine!” I growl in a loud voice and my blood boils when Autumn stops the conversation she was having with a nurse and looks straight at me. Her eyes bore into mine and there’s a flash of panic on her face and she whispers,
“Oh shit...You’re awake.”
I can’t hear her but I read it on her lips and she takes a stumbling step back as if she’s about to run and I snarl, “Wife.” I hold out a shaky hand and turn it around so my palm faces the ceiling. “Come to me.”
The panic in her eyes dissipates, turning into pure confusion. She blushes, her mouth doing a lopsided smile as if she doesn’t know what to think and she lets out a nervous laughter. The nurse waves her over and she crosses the shiny floor, dragging her legs and her flat sneakers make a screeching sound.
“Our patient here has lost his memory,” the nurse long-sufferingly explains and Autumn’s eyes flare. “Can’t remember a darn thing about his own life but he thinks you’re his.”
“Is that why he calls me his wife?” Autumn’s eyes flash. “But I’m not.”
She says it with conviction, the kind of conviction that puts a lot of stress on my body and I can’t help it, feeling a sharp pain in my heart and I grab my chest. Leaning against the wall, I feel my eyes roll back in my head and everything turns blurry. She’s mine! She’s just lying for whatever reason and I start shaking. The effects of the coma is taking a toll on me and Autumn lets out a yelp when I sway, throwing herself at me to keep me upright while the nurse runs to get a wheelchair.
Dragging ragged breaths, she stares up at me with her entrancing eyes and my heart speeds up. I grab a hold around her waist, groaning at the giving flesh and the warmth of her and I don’t care what she says or what excuse or lie she comes up with.
This girl belongs to me.
2.
Autumn
My adrenal glands are acting up and my arms shake as I help the nurse put the patient back into bed. I wonder if he can tell just how hard my heart’s beating and our eyes meet, his own struggling to not close as if he needs to keep a watch on me.
He’s not wrong. As soon as I get the chance I’m outta here.
This wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to wake up from the coma so abruptly. I knew of course, that he one day would wake up but I was hoping I’d get a warning from the nurse first so that I would be prepared.
When I saw him standing in the hallway, pointing at me with that intense look on his face I almost had a heart attack. But then as if fate has a soft spot for girl’s like me, it turned out he’s lost his memory. Can’t remember a thing. Not even who I am.
I flinch when his fingers clasp around my arm and he’s surprisingly strong for the state he’s in. He’s not a delicate man by any stretch of the imagination. He’s bulky and it must be pure genetics because he hasn’t set foot in a gym for weeks. His hair’s black, his beard black and those eyes of his remind me of a honey trap.
Once they find you, they catch you and they make you feel all sticky and sweet all over.
Squirming, I try to get him to loosen his grip but he’s adamant on not letting me slip. I bite my lip when his gaze shines with ownership and possession. It makes my skin feel too hot and itchy and I flick my hair away from my neck. John’s eyes flash with passion, his hand pulling me closer until I clear my throat and say in a flighty voice,
“You’ll have to let go now.” I yank my arm back when he refuses to cooperate. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“Wife,” he groans and he’s so exhausted that I fill with reluctant sympathy for him. “Stay with me...” He reaches for me again but I take a step back and he lets out a low curse. “Feels like am drifting...”
He feels rootless.
I know the feeling.
