“Of course I’m exhausted. I’ve been running around, putting out your fires all day.”
He grunts. “I didn’t mean to be such a hassle. The thing earlier on...”
“The panic attack,” I clarify and he scowls at me.
“The post coma seizure,” he growls and I struggle not to burst into laughter because there’s no such thing. “Mendon’t get panic attacks.”
“If you say so...,” I chew on my lower lip, hiding my amusement and he clears his throat, straightening his back and then heflexes. His muscles tense under the hospital gown and I find myself involuntarily squirming and I cross my legs. “What about it?”
“It wasn’t intentional. I just couldn’t handle the thought of you leaving me to my own.” He shifts in his seat and our knees touch. “But you’d never do anything like that, would you? You’d never be so cruel and heartless to a man who adores you.”
Goodness...And he doesn’t adore me. He just thinks he does. Once he regains his memory, his true feelings will return. And I’m guessing they’ll be...neutral at best. To be honest I’m completely baffled by his obsession with me. It doesn’t make any sense. How could I have reached his psyche this deeply when he doesn’t even know me?
He’s never even had a real conversation with me. Never touched me before.
I wonder if the kiss in the locker room took him off guard. There was surprise in his eyes when I pulled away. As if knowing what I’m thinking about, he drifts his gaze down to my mouth. I’m speculating whether he’ll kiss me again and my heart speeds up, doing a little dance in my chest and I fidget. I flick my hair over my shoulder when I notice John staring at my hand.
Is something wrong...?
Judging by the look in his eyes it is and I whisper, “What’s wrong?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Your ring. Where is it? Did you take it off?” His gaze darkens. “Took it off because of some other man?” Territorial fury floods his face and with a hiss, he rises and slams his fist on the table. A patient gets so scared he tries to run despite his broken leg and my face heats.
Reaching forward, I grab John by his hospital gown. “Sit down!” I yap, silently. “You can’t keep on drawing this much attention and no I don’t have another man. I don’t have a ring because I’m not married!”
“Lies,” he whispers, eyes darting. “I married you the moment I saw you. You’ve always been mine.” He bores his eyes into my own, ignoring me when I shake my head. He doesn’t want to hear it. He’s immune to any protests.
And thing is...
I wasn’t his.
But now...I think I am.
****
John
I slowly sit down, trying to ease. I might’ve overreacted. But I lose it at the slightest hint of a threat. I’m in a vulnerable state and I know I’m lashing out in all directions but fuck, I can’t help it. Autumn’s too valuable for me. The thought of losing her makes me gasp for air, makes my chest hurt and I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Her cautious eyes roam over my frame, lingering somewhat around my shoulders and she flushes as if the size is appealing to her. It should make me feel flattered but instead I’m vexed. She should be used to me but instead she acts like I’m an overbearing stranger.
What if I am?
I squirm. Fuck no, that can’t be true, can’t be...my fists clench and I take a deep breath. I drag a hand through my hair, trying to come up with evidence of how good I know her. I know she loves street musicians because whenever they play, she stops to clap her hands and always throws them a coin. I know she wears thick flannel pajamas when she goes to bed and I know she used to work at a veterinary clinic.
My head spins from the memories. Something isn’t right. Why is she working here all of the sudden and there’s no way I’d let her come to bed in anything other than her birthday suit if I was her husband.
Shit! What if she’s right?
“You’re mine,” I growl and her eyes flare, her mouth opening in a pant. “If you weren’t mine then how come I know you love these?” I take up the package of salty crackers on my tray and throw them to her. As expected she catches them with her left hand. “I knew you’d catch it with your left.”
“You’ve seen me use my left hand all day,” she fidgets and I flex my jaw.
“You use your hands interchangeably. Only a husband would know little details like that.”
Autumn mutters something incoherent and bites into the crackers. She takes little nibbles, watching me like I’m too unpredictable for her. “Where do we live?” I ask and I can’t wait to take her to our bed. I’m sick of this hospital. I want to be alone somewhere with Autumn and not in a place where she runs around in that good enough to eat outfit that catches the eye of every male.
She doesn’t reply, just silently shakes her head.