Unforgettable

He groaned her name. She sighed against him.

“If we parted ways, why does this all feel so right?” she asked, nibbling her way back up to his mouth.

Bo dropped his keys as his arms came around her, and his resolve crumbled, reversing their positions and pressing her into the side of the SUV, his mouth hungry for hers.

He slid one hand up under her blouse, his palm settling over her breast. She arched into the touch, an invitation. If this kept happening, they were going to end up naked in the back of his truck as they had the first time they’d left this diner and couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“History repeating itself,” he muttered before he sank into another kiss. So much for good intentions.

3

“WE HAVE TO STOP,” Bo said against her mouth, his hands on her shoulders, pushing her away.

Erin’s entire being protested, and she shook her head.

“No.”

Then his big hands were on her face, making her look at him. His cheeks were ruddy, his eyes hot. There was no doubt that he wanted her.

“I’m not going to do this. It’s taking advantage, don’t you get that? You’re not in any state of mind to be making these decisions.”

That riled her. She might have lost her memory, but she wasn’t so incapacitated that she couldn’t decide if she wanted a man or not. Granted, there were a few extra things going on that might influence whether she wanted this man, but still.

She dropped a hand, planted it between them as she closed her fingers around the erection that bulged against his slacks.

“Erin, don’t,” he almost begged, even as he pressed into her.

She took her hand away, shaken by the desperate look on his face. She’d hurt this man, and even if she couldn’t remember it, she was doing it again.

Shame welled, and she stopped touching him, dropping her forehead against his chest.

“I’m sorry. I—I really want you, though. It’s...crazy, but I do.”

“I know. I want you, too.”

“I could tell.”

He bit out a short laugh, his hands still on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Her eyes closed, inhaling his scent, feeling the heat of his body, Erin tried to calm her own need, but her mind had different ideas.

“Oh,” she whispered in surprise.

“What?”

“I can almost smell them, the apples. What the heck is it about the apples, Bo?”

Then she knew. As if she’d known it all the time. She pulled back to look up at him. “It was the last time we were together, wasn’t it? The last time we made love?”

His jaw tightened, and he nodded before his head dropped back, staring upward at the sky as he answered. “Yeah.”

The simple confirmation made another puzzle piece click into place. “So this is June...I was out of commission mid-February through April, and we broke up a month before the explosion, you said. January? So how could we have been in an orchard?”

“It was in October. Our last time. Then I left to train for the new job and came back at Christmas. We officially broke up shortly after that.”

Something pulled at the far side of her memory, but she couldn’t reach it and groaned in frustration.

“I can feel it’s all there, like it’s behind a wall, but I can’t get to it,” she said, closing her fists into his shirt, an expression of frustration more than desire this time.

His arms came around her, holding her close.

But it had happened again. Being close to him loosened up her mind, her reservations, or whatever. Memories, no matter how sketchy, started to form. Whatever he’d been to her, it was strong enough to pull her back in a way nothing else had been.

“It’ll be okay, Duck,” he said, and she thought he kissed her hair.

Her head came up quickly.

“Duck. You always called me that. Why?”

Blood raced through her veins, excitement coursing through her as she remembered another small thing.

“You were always hitting your head on the bar above the seat in the hook and ladder, and I had to remind you to duck so many times, I started calling you that.”

His thumb was rubbing over her jaw, a tender gesture in the wake of the passion that had carried them away a few seconds earlier, though that was still there, too.

She measured her words carefully.

“You said you wanted more from me. I want more, too...from you. Now.”

Her eyes met his, and she hoped he knew what she was asking.

Desire flared in the brown depths of his gaze. Of course he knew.

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Whatever it is between us, it’s the only thing that’s made me remember anything. And if I can remember you, and us, maybe I can remember other things.”

He smiled slightly, a hint of bitterness there as he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved away, bending to grab his keys from the ground.

“Erin, as much as I’d like to help, I’m not about to sleep with you to see if it can help jog your memory. Thanks anyway.”

She took a step back, giving him some space.

“It’s not like that, not exactly,” she tried to explain, though she supposed it was exactly like that. She did want to use him, in many delightful ways, and if it got her memory back, even better.

“What is it like, then?”

He caught her gaze, and she grimaced in the face of his challenge.

“Okay, yes, it is about getting my memory back. Can you blame me? I want my life back. My work. My sense of damned purpose,” she said in frustration. “But I think there’s more to it than that. For both of us. These dreams...they’ve been with me since the hospital. I didn’t know what they were, but they get stronger, more...insistent. And I can see in your face that...you want me.”

He pulled up straight, his body tensing. “That doesn’t mean I should have you.”

“No, but I think all of this might mean that we left things...wrong. Unsettled. There are still issues between us that need to be...addressed.”

His eyes narrowed, pinning her. “And you think we should address these issues in bed?”

Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t let him put her off. She took a step forward, laid her hand on his chest. “In bed, or wherever else seems right. From what you tell me, and from what I dream about, we weren’t exactly...conventional in our choice of places to have sex. Were there others? Other public places? What did I like, Bo? What did I want you to do to me? I don’t remember...but I want to find out.”

Erin knew she was pushing him, this man she hardly knew, but she also knew it was right. Deep inside, this felt like the right thing to do. She had to get him to see that, to get him past his doubts and uncooperative stance.

“You can’t remember anything. How can you know what you want?”

“I know I want you. It’s one of the few things I do know. It’s not taking advantage, Bo. I’m fully aware of what I’m doing, and what I’m asking for.”

“Do you? Really, Erin? Do you know what you’re asking from me? After you walked away from us? After you were almost killed? You’ve looked at me—or rather, looked past me—for months, like a stranger. Do you really know what you’re asking?”

His expression was fierce, and Erin was nearly knocked out of her certainty by the frankness of his objections. What he said was true. This wasn’t just about her, but she needed to push anyway. She was desperate. He was her only hope to remember anything. To recapture what she once had.

“Maybe it would be different this time. I’m not sure. I only know that I need you, and I think you need me. You said you wanted more from me. I’ll give you anything you want, Bo...whatever you need. If you give me...this. Give me a chance to get my life back.”

He shook his head at her and got into his truck without another word. Erin’s heart, and her hopes, sank. Her eyes burned as he started the engine.

She’d lost. She’d lost Bo and a whole lot more than that.

He sat in the driver’s seat with the engine running, not moving.

She didn’t move, either. Holding her breath that he’d get back out. Change his mind.

He looked out the window at her.

“I’m sorry, Erin, but I don’t think this will work. You’ll need to find another way. From now on, please contact my assistant if you need anything.”

It was all he said, backing up and driving out of the lot.

Erin didn’t realize she was crying until a breeze picked up and made her aware of the cool sting of tears on her cheeks. She got back to her car, sat there until it got dark. She’d taken her last shot and lost. Maybe her memory would come back, and maybe it wouldn’t, but Bo clearly wasn’t going to be part of it.

Maybe Kit was right. Maybe she had to stop clinging to this foolish hope and the past. It really was time to move on.

* * *

BO STARED BLINDLY at the email that filled his computer screen as he sat at his desk the next morning. It was early, and no one was in yet. He hadn’t slept again. Not after hours of self-recriminations about backing away from Erin. It had been the right thing to do, but it wasn’t what he wanted.

This, the content of the email, was supposed to be what he wanted. An offer he’d been working for his entire life—a job with the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Group. He’d helped them a few times as a cop and once recently as an investigator.

He’d use everything he’d ever learned and take it all to the next level. They were asking him back for a final interview, and if it went well, they wanted him to start in August. In Virginia.

He rubbed his hand over his tired eyes, wondering why he didn’t feel happier. This was important to him. Since his uncle had been seriously injured in the Pentagon on 9/11, it was all Bo had lived for. Until Erin.

She had made him believe that he lived for something else. For someone else. For a while anyway.

Erin’s face, her desperation, her crushing disappointment as he’d left the night before, played in his mind’s eye again.

“Damn it.” He closed the email, got up and went to get himself another cup of coffee, and went to check out the morning’s reports, but he couldn’t concentrate.

Could helping Erin remember their past relationship trigger her ability to remember other things, perhaps the fire, or anything she saw that could help them? She’d seemed so sure that being with him would help her remember. Or maybe Bo was finding convenient connections, rationalizations to be with her, when he knew it wasn’t ethical.

He felt like a jerk no matter what he decided. If he did as she asked, he was taking advantage of her situation to have sex with her, no matter how much she said that wasn’t the case. She was desperate to get her memory back, but just because she’d remembered a few tidbits about him―them—it didn’t mean that being with him would fuel any more recollections.

But walking away had been hard. She needed him, and she was right—he needed her, too. He’d tried to pull that need out by the root, but he’d failed. Their last few interactions had proved that.

They’d left things unsaid, and they’d never had any real closure. Maybe that’s why she’d been so difficult to get over, even after all this time. And he wanted her so damned badly. It would be too easy to take what she was offering, and what then?

For her, it was only sex. She wanted him—he knew that, he could feel it. But she was just scratching an itch while trying to get her past back—and if that happened, she’d just remember that she hadn’t wanted him before. Maybe she’d hate him even more for doing this.

Or maybe something would be different? She’d hinted at that. And she did seem...different. Some things were still the same, but there was no doubt that she’d been through a life-altering experience.

Could it have altered what she wanted from life? What she wanted from him?

The chances of her ever going back to firefighting were slim. She had to know that. Even if her memory came back, her physical status after the brain surgeries and her psychological state would all need to be reevaluated. Would the crew trust her as they did before? Could she even walk into a fire, or would she freeze?

He put the reports aside and looked at his computer again. He’d done some research on the brain damage that she’d suffered, and more reading on amnesia. It was a highly specialized topic. There were different forms of forgetting and different reasons people lost their memories.

Erin had what was typically called retrograde amnesia—she’d forgotten everything but her childhood memories up until college. But as Bo read through one particularly interesting medical report online, a theory formed in his mind. He found the number of a psychologist he knew who served the police and the fire departments, and called the number, finding himself on the line with Dr. Newcomb minutes later.

“How can I help you, Marshal?”

“I’m investigating the arson case that killed a fireman in February, and left one with serious brain damage and memory loss. I was wondering if you had a second to answer some questions.”

“I do. I remember the case. I talked with Erin Riley. That’s in the report, so it’s not protected information, though I can’t share any of what we spoke about, of course.”

“Of course. I wanted to ask you about the type of amnesia Erin has. Her neurologist called it retrograde amnesia, caused by the head trauma she suffered, and probably from the brain surgeries, as well.”

“Yes, I recall. I’ve never had a patient with nearly complete amnesia. Is she doing well?”

“I thought you said you were talking to her?”

“Only three times after she left the hospital, and then she opted not to come back.”

Bo smirked. Sounded like Erin. She never did like doctors.

“I was reading up on it on the internet, and I wondered if the neurologist could have had it wrong. I was reading about a kind of amnesia called dissociative amnesia, where she could be blocking something traumatic—something stressful that her brain doesn’t want to remember. Could it be that instead? Do you think she could have seen something at the fire that was so traumatizing that she doesn’t want to remember it?”

“It’s possible, though usually dissociative amnesia wouldn’t be so encompassing. She might block the event, or things related to it, but not her entire life for over a decade.”

“I see. Is it possible to have both? Perhaps the brain damage made what would otherwise just be selective forgetting much worse?”

“Hmm. It’s definitely possible. Why do you think this could be the case?”

“I’m not a doctor, of course, but Erin has been remembering a few details regarding a long-term relationship she had—and she thinks that if she could be with the person in that relationship, she might remember more. Is that possible?”

“It’s a very good sign that she’s remembered anything—that’s promising. It could take days or years, there’s no telling. The brain is unpredictable. But triggers are a key factor—if there’s a strong enough trigger, something so important to her, or so deep in her mind that she’s recollecting it, it’s certainly wise to pursue that. There’s no way to know what or how much she might recall, but it’s certainly possible that opening one strong channel of memory could lead to more recollections. And if she is repressing memories that are too frightening to recall, being with someone who makes her feel safe could help that rise to the surface, as well.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll let her know.”

“Marshal Myers, please tell Erin she’s welcome in my office anytime, especially if she’s going through anything unsettling in this process. I’d love to work with her if she needs more support.”

“I’ll tell her. Thank you.”

Bo hung up, not sure if he should have made an appointment with the doctor. He probably needed his head examined for considering this, but it sounded as though it actually could be possible. That being with Erin could actually bring her memories back.

If that was the case, how could he move on with his life, into his future, and leave her behind without at least trying to help her get her life back, too?

Glancing up as other members of the office arrived, chatter floated in the door, and he smelled fresh coffee brewing. He got up and closed his door, needing to think.

He could potentially help Erin remember—maybe remember everything.

Was he really considering this?

He knew going in this time that there wouldn’t be any real reconciliation. They were still “over”— nothing would change that.

He had other plans, too—the job in Virginia, for starters. He’d be here for only a bit more than two months if he got the job. Less than that, since he’d have to give notice and get someone new to take his place here. His assistant was good, but he wasn’t ready to move up the ranks yet.

So that meant Bo had a month or so, just a few weeks, to cram in as much of their relationship as he could in hopes it might make her remember everything.

He just had to keep straight on the fact that he wasn’t in it this time for the long haul, either. It could be just sex for him, too. A way to get her out of his system?

Closure. A way to leave things better between them than they had before.

It was also a chance to close the case, potentially. Maybe a way to save lives, since they still had an arsonist out there who hadn’t been caught. What if Erin had seen something or experienced something that could help them find the person who had set that fire?

He knew he was talking himself into it, but it also made sense. There were more good reasons to take this risk than not to.

He’d already dialed her number, his phone in hand. He was surprised when she picked up.

“I thought you might not answer.” He didn’t bother with hellos.

“I didn’t see who it was first.”

She sounded tired. And cranky. For some reason, that made him smile. She was always irritable when she woke up.

“I’m sorry I was hard on you last night. Listen, I want to help if I can. Are you free today?”

“Say when.”

Her tone perked up considerably. Bo closed his eyes, steadying his breathing. This felt surreal.

“I’m taking the rest of the day off. I’ve got a few things to sort out. How about if I come by your place later?”

“Okay. I’ll be here.”

She sounded nervous now, too. “I just want to talk, Erin. We need to talk about it...first.”

“Okay. Sure. Good.”

With that, they hung up. Bo packed his stuff and told his assistant to beep him only if there was an emergency. Then he was in his truck, thinking about Erin, wondering if he wasn’t making a huge mistake. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, and probably wouldn’t be the last.

* * *

KIT STOOD BY the door as she scanned the crowd for Erin’s cap of shiny brown hair. It was hard to see anyone in the busy crowd.

This was the place Erin usually went with her firehouse buddies, so it was where Kit figured she’d find her, but as far as she could see, there was no Erin.

She was doubly disappointed, having needed the break from her own worries. The past few months had been a balancing act, largely tilted to the side of addressing Erin’s crisis, which was obviously huge. But Kit had her own troubles to deal with. Her flower shop wasn’t doing well these days, especially with more people ordering flowers online or getting them at the local grocery stores. She’d been holding it together for a while, but she’d lost one large account last month, and the individual, walk-in business was dropping off, as well. In addition, getting good quality, fair-trade flowers wasn’t inexpensive.

Most consumers had no idea that the flowers they bought at many outlets or online at discount prices were often shipped from countries that farmed the blooms and exploited local people, usually women, to keep prices down and their own profits up. Kit supported only fair-trade suppliers, and that meant her flowers were more expensive than most, but she included fair-trade information with all purchases. She found that her customers liked knowing they were buying flowers that truly helped people instead of subjugating them. But in the troubled economy, being socially conscious was often a luxury.

All Kit had ever wanted to do was run a flower shop. It was her dream, since she was a little girl. She’d worked at one as a teenager, and she used the college money left to her by her parents to open the shop. It had done very well for a while. But times changed, and the internet, recessions and so forth were taking their toll on her dreams.

The shop and her sister were the most important things in her life—they were all she had left. Erin was young when their father had died of a heart attack at the station. He was always at the station. Lived and died there, literally. Their mother was gone eight years later. Erin had been out working on a fire when their mom passed away.

Sometimes Kit felt terribly alone. Feelings weren’t always fair, she knew. Sometimes, they were awful, confusing things. Like when the doctors said that Erin had amnesia and very likely wouldn’t return to firefighting.

Kit had, on some level, been happy about that. It wasn’t very supportive, she knew that, but she was so happy to have Erin around again. But Erin seemed drawn to her old crew, even now. It was like an obsession.

As Kit moved farther into the room, she didn’t see her sister anywhere, and her heart sank. So much for sister time.

“Hey, you’re Riley’s sister...the flower lady.”

Kit turned toward the voice and found a very, very large man standing near a tall table, where he put a beer down and faced her, holding out his hand.

“I’m Hank Aaron.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“No joke, that’s my name. Dad was a huge baseball fan. Mom couldn’t talk him out of it. And you’re...Kathy?”

“Kathleen, but everyone calls me Kit.” She smiled, looking into his face. “Now I remember. We met at the hospital a few times. I’m sorry. I was not quite coherent back then.”

She reached out, shook his hand, which swallowed her own. His skin was rough, but not in an unpleasant way. It scraped on hers and made her wonder how those large hands would feel on the rest of her.

“Understandable. That was hell, waiting to see what would happen, especially for you. Families have it hard in our business. Can I get you a beer?”

She paused, took her hand back. She was going to say no. It was obvious Erin wasn’t here, but then Kit changed her mind as her stomach rumbled.

“That would be nice, thanks. I might order something to eat, too. I was hoping to meet Erin here, but I guess she had other things to do.”

Hank frowned. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I do. She shut off her phone. She does that when she wants to be left alone. I know what she’s going through is so hard...and I don’t know how to help most of the time. I try to give her space to figure things out, but I’m never quite sure what to do. Or if she needs me for anything at all.”

She failed to keep the slight edge of resentment out of her tone, and Hank noticed.

“I imagine this is difficult for both of you. Riley, um, Erin hasn’t been quite the same since she woke up. We notice it, too. She’s...I don’t know. Like she’s looking for something, I guess. There, and then not there.”

“At least I get to see her more these days. I think you guys knew her better than I did before. She certainly spent more time with you all, and I know being around you now is a comfort to her. But I worry she’s too caught in the past to move forward. She doesn’t like hearing that, as you can imagine.”

Hank drew himself up, all six feet who-only-knew-how-many-inches of him, and looked down at her with calm understanding. How did this big bear of a man come off so Zenlike? As he started to speak, she expected him to make excuses and find some means to escape her dumping all her problems on him. She never did that, not as a habit, and wouldn’t blame him for wanting to get clear of her.

“Have you had anyone to talk to since this happened?” he asked instead.