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
