Memory's Edge: Part One Read online

  “John? John, what’s wrong?”

  Shaking his head, he looked at Gretchen. She grimaced in pain and worry. Pain? Searching her to see what was wrong, John saw his own hands clamped on her arms. Her skin dimpled under the pressure, turning white around his fingers from the harsh grip. Gasping, John dropped his hands, stumbling at the lack of support.

  Gretchen reached forward to grab him, but John pushed her hands back. Limping away from her, he rushed to their table, grabbing his cane and racing to the door. John needed to get away from her before he hurt her again. He tried to warn her about this. He told her he didn’t know what he might do.

  But John didn’t stop her from staying near him.

  The cool, spring air hit him as he burst through the doors. He could hear Gretchen calling for him to wait, but pushed ahead anyway. He didn’t even know what had happened. What were those colors and voices? Did he see something in them? The pain he felt beforehand was awful. It came on so suddenly, he had no chance to do anything about it. What if it came back? What if he hurt Gretchen again?

  John started walking, but he only made it a few steps before remembering he had nowhere to go. He didn’t even have a way to leave the parking lot aside from his own two feet. That wasn’t going to get him very far. John didn’t have the chance to come up with another plan.

  “John, wait! What are you doing?” Gretchen called out as she ran up to him.

  John turned away, not wanting to look at her.

  “John, what happened?” she asked. “Your face went all white and you just stood there like you were in a trance. And why did you run out like that?”

  In her rush to get out of the building she hadn’t gotten her sweater back on. John could see the splotches of finger-sized bruises beginning to form around her arms. “Gretchen, I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  “Sorry for what?” she asked, and then she seemed to realize what he was staring at. She lifted her arm to inspect the damage. John expected her to cry or be angry, but she just shook her head. “Forget about that. It’s nothing. You need to tell me what happened. Do we need to call Dr. Sanchez?”

  “Nothing?” he asked in disbelief. “How can you say that’s nothing? I hurt you, Gretchen. Look at the bruises!”

  “For God’s sake, John. You squeezed my arms a little too hard. It’s not that big of a deal. What is a big deal is that something obviously just happened to you,” she said. “You looked like you were in pain, and if you don’t tell me what happened I’m calling Dr. Sanchez right now.”

  “It was nothing,” John said, repeating her words.

  She looked as though she were about to throttle John if he didn’t give her a real answer. He should have known she wouldn’t let this slide. She was so protective of him. So careful. John’s shoulders slumped. There was no getting away from her now. Not that he really wanted to. He could never actually leave her.

  “There was this sharp pain in my head,” John said. “Then lights and sounds.” That was all they were, right? Just some random flashes. He wasn’t even sure if the sounds had been part of the experience, or just the restaurant noise amplified by the pain in his head. For a moment, John thought there had been a face, but he was almost positive it had just been someone passing by them in the restaurant.

  “Lights and sounds? What do you mean?”

  She must have thought he was hallucinating. Was he? Was there still something wrong with his? His last MRI had been clear, but could they really be sure? Gretchen grabbed her phone from her purse, and John had no doubt she was searching her contacts for Dr. Sanchez’s phone number. Maybe she would know what was going on, but John was done with doctors for the day. John quickly grabbed her hand, forcing the phone down.

  “Gretchen, wait,” John pleaded, “I don’t think it was anything serious. I don’t know, but I think the pain just made me really sensitive to light and sound for a moment. I was just seeing and hearing the room more than I should have. It’s not worth calling Dr. Sanchez about.”

  Gretchen stared at him in frustration. “This is more important than your fears of going back to the hospital. There might be something wrong.”

  “I’m fine,” John said, surprised by the heat in his voice. “It was just a side effect from the injury. Dr. Sanchez said I might experience something like this as I’m healing.”

  “But, why now? You haven’t had anything like this before. Why would your head suddenly start hurting almost two months later? That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

  “It has happened before,” he said quietly.

  “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” She was absolutely stunned he’d kept something from her.

  “It was just once, and it was even quicker than what happened tonight,” he said. “It was that night you made Swiss steak. You where pounding the steaks and the same thing happened. I think it was just the loud noise, last time and this time.”

  At least, he was pretty sure that had been the cause.

  Frowning, Gretchen struggled to agree that what he was saying made sense. Dr. Sanchez had said he might be more sensitive to noise, especially for the first few months. It had been a month and a half since the accident, but the last MRI showed parts of his brain still healing. It was a slow process. A headache and some sensitivity to light and sound really weren’t worth dragging him back to the hospital. And she would literally have to drag him.

  Gretchen sighed. She seemed to realize John was right. Slipping her phone back into her purse, she turned to him. “Fine, I won’t call Dr. Sanchez, but will you please tell me if anything like this happens again?”

  John hesitated. Was she going to react the same way every time something weird happened? She was so good to make sure he got to all his appointments and took the right medications and got enough rest. He loved how caring she was, but he didn’t want her freaking out every time he got a headache.

  “I’m serious, John. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she said. She smiled and stepped a little closer to him. Her flirting calmed his panic somewhat. “I’m getting kind of attached to you, you know.”

  “Is that so?” John pulled her closer and started to wrap his arms around her. When his hands touched her arms, his eyes drifted down to the tiny bruises and his playfully seductive smile faded.

  Gretchen groaned. John wanted to put his arms around her. He wanted to get back to the kiss that had ended all too quickly. The finger-shaped bruises stole his focus. Gretchen suddenly pushed back from John and punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

  “Ow!” he said. His confused expression made her smile.

  “See? I can give you bruises, too,” she said.

  Scowling back at her, John said, “It’s not the same.”

  “No,” she said, “it’s not. I punched you on purpose.”

  John wanted to respond to that, but Gretchen didn’t give him a chance.

  “You’re being an idiot about this,” she said. “You pinched my arms in a moment of pain. It was an accident. If you’re going to act like such a baby about things like this, you’re going to end up with a lot of bruises on your shoulder.”

  “Gretchen …”

  She shook her head. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would really like you to kiss me again. I wasn't quite finished before.”

  That succeeded in taking John’s frown away when he didn’t think anything could. She let him pull her back into his arms, feeling the sweet sensation of his heart racing as his lips lowered to hers. Guilt and worry drifted away in that moment. John’s hand moved from the side of her face up into her hair, pressing her closer, kissing her more deeply. His whole body burned, cleansing him of every fear that had been lingering in his mind.

  Feeling her body against his, their hearts racing in anticipation, it was alluringly close to perfection. John could believe in those precious minutes that there was nothing capable of taking them away from each other. The feeling lasted until their lips finally parted and Gretchen laid her head on his chest. Pleasure w
ashed over John, but it didn’t cover him completely.

  He couldn’t keep Carl’s warning from slipping back into his mind.

  It was only accidental bruises this time, but what if he really hurt Gretchen? Could he live with himself after that?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Blueberry Pancakes

  Gretchen woke to the smell of blueberry pancakes the next morning. Mornings had never been her best time of day, but they had improved since John moved in. Even on school days, she now woke to the smell of breakfast. Gone were the days of munching on toast, if she was lucky, as she ran out the door. Now Gretchen was happy to wake up, but only a small part of that had to do with the food.

  What really had her bouncing out of bed every morning was the knowledge that John would be waiting for her in the kitchen. After their kiss the night before, part of her wanted to wake up to him lying beside her, but she knew neither of them were anywhere near ready for that. She was still too afraid that the closer she got to John, the more inevitable his leaving would be, and John seemed too scared of hurting her to allow himself to really let go.

  Remembering the bruises, Gretchen rolled her eyes when she thought about him freaking out. Gretchen looked in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, seeing the faint dots of purple on her arms. It was so minor, so inconsequential, but he had looked at them like he’d just stabbed her in the heart. It was just an accident.

  As she rinsed out her mouth, Gretchen knew she might never understand. She didn’t want to repeat the argument, though, so she grabbed a sweater that was lying on the end of her bed and pulled it on over her tank top to keep them hidden. The shirt fell halfway down her thighs and she blinked in surprise. It wasn't hers.

  Gretchen’s lips curled into a smile. It was early May, but still chilly in the mornings. She had shivered the night before while she and John were watching a movie. He immediately took off his sweater and pulled it over her head. Gretchen’s protests had been feeble. She had reluctantly taken it off before bed to keep from getting twisted up in the extra fabric while she slept.

  Another wave of blueberry scent hit Gretchen as she opened the door and hurried to the kitchen. John didn’t look up when she came in. He knew Gretchen was there, but let her sneak up behind him and put her arms around his waist. Only then did he look over his shoulder at her, smiling and kissing her forehead. Sighing happily, Gretchen leaned against him and ignored her grumbling stomach.

  “Good morning, beautiful,” John said. “Are you ready for some breakfast?”

  “You spoil me way too much. Do you know that?” she asked.

  “Spoil you? I couldn’t spoil you if I tried,” he said. “You deserve more than I could ever give you, Gretchen Gesner.”

  He was oddly serious as he said it. Gretchen knew he honestly meant what he said. She felt tears springing to her eyes and laughed to cover them up. “You’re so full of it,” she joked. She had to turn away to hide how flustered he made her. John seemed to take the hint and went back to flipping pancakes.

  “You look amazing this morning, by the way,” he said without turning around.

  Gretchen laughed. “I bet. I’m pretty sure I still have mascara under my eyes and my hair is standing up in at least three places.” Actually, she had made sure to wash her face and run a quick brush through her hair before she came out. But still, Gretchen knew she was definitely not one of those girls who woke up every morning looking like they just stepped out of the salon.

  “I’m serious,” John said, looking back at her this time, “you look hot wearing my clothes. I think you should wear them all the time.”

  She seriously doubted he meant the part about her wearing men’s clothing, but his grin made her believe the rest. She didn’t even blush. She just grinned back.

  “Well, good luck getting this back,” Gretchen teased. “I think I’ll keep it.”

  Carrying over two plates of blueberry pancakes, John set one in front of Gretchen with a flourish then set his down as well. “I might be willing to trade,” he said, one eyebrow raising conspiratorially.

  “Trade?” she asked. “What do you want?”

  His expression turned thoughtful, but Gretchen wasn't fooled. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “You can have the sweater, but I get to have something of yours at a later date.”

  “At a later date? That sounds fishy,” she said. What was he planning?

  “That’s the deal. Take it or leave. Although if you leave it, you have to give me my sweater back, right now.” John smiled, knowing he had her trapped. Either way, he would get something. If she refused the deal she would have to strip off her shirt in front of him. Yes, she had a tank top on, but that was it. No bra underneath. Or she could take the second option, and John would get to name the other half of their trade whenever he wanted. Oh, he was good.

  “I’ll take it,” Gretchen said. There was no way she was taking the sweatshirt off.

  John looked mildly disappointed she wasn't going to undress at the breakfast table, but winning the deal left him pleased. Suspicion made her curious. He wasn't getting his sweatshirt back, but she would be on the lookout. John shoved a forkful of pancakes into his mouth looking as if he’d won something, but Gretchen was pretty sure she had come out on top.

  John’s sweater had his scent and reminded her every minute she wore it of how much her life had changed for the better since finding him in the middle of the road. The last time she had worn a man’s clothing was when she’d dated Steve. It had only happened once.

  “Gretchen,” John said, thankfully breaking her out of her thoughts, “what’s wrong?”

  Startled by his voice, she looked up. John reached across the table and took her hand. Gretchen didn’t realize she’d let her emotions slip through her thoughts. Flushing in embarrassment, she shook her head. John didn’t fall for it.

  “Hey,” he said softly, “what were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing you want to hear about,” she promised.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell your boyfriend anything?” he asked.

  Gretchen choked on her pancakes. “Boyfriend?”

  John’s honest concern slipped into a smile for a second. “Don’t try to change the subject, Gretchen. What were you thinking about?”

  “My last boyfriend,” she mumbled. She wasn’t completely distracted. She would be coming back to that boyfriend comment.

  John cocked an eyebrow up. “While you’re sitting at breakfast with me, wearing my sweatshirt? That’s not exactly flattering.” He didn’t look angry, just concerned. “What made you think about your ex?”

  Gretchen had dripped catsup all over her shirt one day while over at Steve’s apartment. She didn’t have anything to change into, so she’d grabbed a shirt out of his bedroom and threw it on. Steve saw her and told her she looked ridiculous in his t-shirt and demanded she put something on that didn’t make her look like a tramp. She wore her stained t-shirt home.

  “It was the sweatshirt, actually.” John didn’t understand what Gretchen meant by that, so she continued. “The last time I wore a guy’s shirt was when I was dating my last boyfriend. He said I looked horrible and told me to take it off.”

  Closing his eyes, John shook his head in disbelief. “Well, obviously, your last boyfriend was an ass,” he said. “Although, I would have assumed that anyway.”

  “What?” Gretchen asked. Something about that sounded a little off. Her last boyfriend would obviously be awful? Why? For dating her?

  “Well, you aren’t with him anymore, thankfully, so either he was stupid enough to break up with you, or he did something stupid enough to make you break up with him. Either way, he’s obviously not good enough.” John finished by stuffing another bite of blueberry pancakes into his mouth.

  That made more sense, and Gretchen agreed completely. Steve never would have, but what did he matter anymore?

  “Which one was it?” John asked.

  “Huh?” Gretchen had lost track of
what he was asking her.

  “Why did you two break up?”

  Steve was her least favorite subject, but she couldn’t ignore the question. It was her fault for even letting Steve slip into her thoughts. Why had she ever dated him in the first place?

  Unfortunately, that was a question Gretchen still didn’t have an answer to. At least not one she wanted to admit. When she was perfectly honest, she knew she’d dated him because he was handsome and charming and bowled her over with his rush of attention and gifts those first few weeks. It took Gretchen way too long to realize he only wanted her around because she was pretty enough for him to parade around at his wealthy family’s and friends’ parties without being embarrassed, and because she was dumb enough not to realize he was cheating on her pretty much the whole time.

  The day Gretchen walked in on him and one of her classmates in bed together, she lost so much more than just a worthless boyfriend. Most the people she’d thought were her friends sided with Steve, saying she should have known what kind of guy he was, how she deserved it if she wasn't smart enough to figure it out before. Gretchen spent the last two weeks before graduation sleeping on the couch at one of the few friends she’d had left, and ran home to Denver as soon as her last final was over.

  “I broke up with him. He’d been cheating on me,” Gretchen said simply. Then shaking away anymore thoughts of Steve and signaling an end to that part of the conversation, she faced John.

  “Now what was that about you being my boyfriend?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Panic

  To be perfectly honest, John only made the boyfriend comment to try and make her laugh. But when he saw the look of shock in her eyes, John had grinned at how adorable she was and gone back to whatever was bothering her. It seemed safer. Now they had circled back.

  The only thing that kept him from sneaking away without answering was he really did mean it. He wanted Gretchen to think of him as her boyfriend. She was pretty much all he thought about, well her and cooking. Whenever he cooked he thought her, too, and how her writing therapy had led him to experiment with food. So, he pretty much thought about Gretchen constantly.