Thoughts of her son brought a genuine smile to Brianna’s lips. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The neurologist pulled a pen from his pocket and signed a chart that he stuck in the file holder on her door. “Now get some rest, and I’ll check in on you again at the end of my rounds.”
The doctor pulled her door almost closed to give her and Hunter privacy, and being alone with her rescuer suddenly became awkward. She glanced at him as he shifted to a more comfortable position in the bedside chair. He flicked a smile at her and drew a deep breath.
“So...” he said.
“Hunter...” she said at the same time.
His grin stretched, and he waved a hand toward her. “Go on.”
“What were you—” she said on top of him again. Now she chuckled stiffly. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “No. Ladies first.”
She took a slow breath and untangled her fingers from the knots she’d been winding in the sheets. “You don’t have to stay. I know I asked you not to leave before, but...I was scared and hurting and—”
His warm hand wrapped around her cool fingers, and her gaze darted up to his. His dark blue eyes were full of compassion and crinkled slightly as he grinned. “I’m not going anywhere. I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
She squeezed his fingers, relishing the connection to him. Not only did his warm grip feel good around her chilly hands, but his loyalty and friendship touched a place deep inside her that she had an odd sense had been empty and cold for a long time. “I release you from that promise. I have no right to hold you here. You don’t know me. You have no responsibility for me. You’ve already done so much, and I’ll always be grateful. But I don’t want you to feel obligated to me.”
He gave her a dismissive raspberry. “I’m your husband, remember? Of course I’ll stay.”
Brianna sighed and shook her head. “We both know you’re not. That’s just the lie you told the EMT so you could ride with me when I was panicking.”
His brow furrowed, and when he stroked her knuckles with his thumb, a pleasant tingle spun through her. “Yeah, well...maybe I’m getting into the role. Maybe I want to hang around for a while to make sure you’re okay.” He cocked his head. “Would that be okay? I could help you start figuring out who you are and if you have family somewhere that should be called.”
Her heart pattered. She wanted desperately to accept his offer, but how could she impose on his kindness that way? “You heard the doctor. It could be weeks before I remember everything.” She frowned and dropped her gaze to her lap. “If I remember.”
He untangled his fingers from hers and nudged her chin up. “Hey, stay positive.” His palm cupped her cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into his touch, his buoying comfort and encouragement. “I was thinking I might do a little investigative work. I can go back to your car and see what, if anything, I can find that would help us solve some of the mystery surrounding you.”
She raised her chin, hope lifting her spirits. “Good idea.”
“For starters, I’ll take down your license-plate number and see if the DMV will tell me who the number is registered to.”
She nodded, feeling a surge of energy in light of Hunter’s idea and optimism. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”
He shot her a wickedly handsome lopsided grin. “You were a little preoccupied having the world’s cutest little boy.”
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of a nurse rolling a bassinet in from the nursery. “Mrs. Mansfield?”
She blinked, confused by the name until Hunter winked at her and said, “Speak of the devil. Here’s our boy now.”
Mansfield. Hunter Mansfield. She let the name roll through her mind, testing it, savoring it. Funny to think she knew more about Hunter than she did about herself. A last name, for instance.
The nurse parked the bassinet beside her bed and scooped up the baby, swaddled tightly in a blue blanket. “Here you go, Mama. He’s been asking for you. I think he’s ready to nurse.”
Brianna’s breath caught, and her gaze darted to Hunter. Nurse? “Um...I—”
Hunter’s cheeks flushed a bit, and he met her uneasy glance with his own.
“It helps if you massage the breast first to increase the milk flow,” the nurse said as she settled the baby in Brianna’s arms.
Hunter shot out of his chair and hustled toward the door. “Honey, I just remembered a phone call I need to make. I’ll just be out here in the hall, okay?”
She released the breath she’d been holding and nodded. “Sure.”
As Hunter slipped out of the room, the nurse helped Brianna get situated, propping pillows under the baby and her arm so that she could hold her son more comfortably. The baby latched on after a few tries and suckled greedily. Brianna stared down at the tiny face, marveling at the miracle she held and swamped by a love so strong and pure it brought tears to her eyes. Of course, some of the tears could be the product of the crazy cocktail of hormones, her frustration with her amnesia and the throbbing pain in her skull.
“That’s the way. You’ve got it,” her nurse said. “I’m going to go, but if you need me, just push the button on that cord there.” She pointed to the nurse call. “Or get that nervous daddy in the hall to help.” She sent a wry look to the door. “He’s got to get over those new-father nerves before you go home. You’re gonna need a lot of help with the baby while you recover from that concussion.”
Brianna swallowed hard. “Right. Thanks.”
She might need a lot of help, but she couldn’t ask Hunter. Surely she had family or a friend, a neighbor...someone who could help her with the baby. The baby gazed up at her with his blue eyes as he nursed, and she was washed anew with overwhelming awe and love. Maybe it wasn’t hormones. Maybe this was the deep maternal bond that women had known for centuries. “Oh, sweetie, you are so precious to me. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”
Her son’s eyes closed, then fluttered open again.
“It’s okay. You can sleep. I’ll be right here.” Her reassurance to her baby boy reminded her of Hunter’s pledge to stay with her, to work with her to piece together her identity and lost memories. As she watched her baby suckle, an overwhelming need to name her son roared through her. She might have no identity, no past to draw from, but she could give her son a name. A name with meaning and significance.
“Hunter?” she called. “Hunter, are you there?”
He burst through the door, his expression worried. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“What’s your full name?”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Your full name? Do you have a middle name?”
His attention shifted to where her baby still nuzzled her breast,
