Page 80 of Amnesia

I winced. “This time I’ll try not to poison you.”

“That wasn’t your fault,”

I grumbled because she was right, but I felt guilty about it anyway. Poking her in the ribs, I said, “What kind of Maine girl is allergic to lobster?”

She smiled, but then it faded. “Maybe I’m not really a Maine girl.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said quickly.

“Eddie…” She began, her tone thoughtful and more serious than expected. “I overheard—”

“Breakfast!” Maggie sang from the other side of the doorway, making Amnesia jump.

“Thank you!” she called out after a moment of silence. “I’ll be up in a bit.”

“I know Eddie’s there. Did you two think I was blind and deaf?”

Amnesia covered her mouth with her hand as giggles shook her body. Grinning wide, I slid out from beneath her, strolled over to the door, and pulled it open.

“Morning, Maggie,” I drawled.

“Well, at least you have pants on,” she said, breezing into the room with a tray of monkey bread muffins, juice, and coffee. “I take it you slept in them, too?”

“Yes, ma’am.” This was only mildly embarrassing. A twenty-five-year-old man assuring someone he slept in his jeans and didn’t in fact just have sex in their house.

Not awkward. Not at all.

“I hope it’s okay Eddie stayed last night,” Amnesia said, sitting up in bed. Her hair was mussed, her shirt slightly wrinkled, and her cheeks were still red, partly from the reaction yesterday and partly in embarrassment.

Maggie waved away her words. “Of course. Can’t say it didn’t make me feel better when I glanced out the window last night and saw your truck.”

“Glad to be of service.” I saluted her.

She laughed and turned to Am. “Now, I just wanted to let you know I have to go out for a little while, but I’ll be back this afternoon. Maybe we can catch up then?”

“Of course.” She agreed.

“Good.” She nodded once. “Breakfast is there. Eddie, take care of our girl. I’ll see you in a bit!”

When she was gone, Am and I looked at each other and laughed.

We ate breakfast in bed, and when she came back from the bathroom, dressed in a pair of jeans and the hoodie I gave her, I figured I should get dressed, too.

“I need to head home. Shower and change. You wanna come with?” I asked, rubbing a hand through my hair.

“Sure.”

I put on my shoes as she stuffed an EpiPen into her pocket and returned all the dishes to the kitchen. We met at the door and, after locking up, headed to my place.

The sky was overcast today, foggy and cold. It felt more like winter than fall, and I knew soon all the trees would be bare and snow would cover the ground.

At my place, I started a fire for Am and left her in the living room, where all I pretty much had was a couch and TV.

The shower felt good. I spent more time letting it pelt my tight muscles than anything else. Finally, after I was clean and a little less tense, I shut off the spray.

The house was quiet as I dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and combed my unmanageable hair. The silence was almost unnerving; it left me with an odd sense of foreboding.

“Amnesia?” I asked, walking down the hall toward the living room.

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