Page 20 of Midnight and Mine

My erection slid through her folds, and her juice coated me as I entered her in one swift motion. She gasped, and I remember thinkingif this is heaven, then I’m happy to die.

But as my dick strokedher relentlessly, I said, “People say heaven is on earth, and I found it. Right here, baby—inside you. It’s warm, welcoming, and it’s fucking amazing. Pure bliss.”

Standing, I rotate the shower handle, and the water drips for a moment. I reach for a towel and run it over my head forcefully, then wrap it around my waist. I lean forward, putting my hands on the counter, and look into the mirror which reflects the fear gripping me.

What would Wynter do if the roles were reversed?

I chuckle to myself. Wynter wouldn’t follow the doctor’s directions. She would do whatever she wanted. But that’s not me. I know firsthand that doctors know more than patients. Believe me, I’ve already scanned the internet for different opinions on how to handle amnesia. It’s different from dementia or Alzheimer’s because the memories usually come back and not sporadically, like in dementia.

I pull on a pair of sweats and a Stallions basketball t-shirt and head downstairs. Falling onto the couch with my legs over the arm, I place my arm over my face and close my eyes, hoping to sleep until Beau returns to take me back to the hospital. I doze for a few minutes until I’m startled by a knock on the front door.

This is Kissing Springs, and we leave the doors unlocked in this charming small town. Everyone trusts each other here, so I call out, “Come in.”

The door creaks open, then shuts with little reverberation.

“Scott?”

It’s Drake, so I swing my legs to the floor. “In the living room.”

Hetakes cautious and quiet steps, then sits in the chair opposite me. “I don’t have much time before work.”

I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to shake off the fog of the past two days.

Before I say anything, he adds, “She asked why I was going to work and wanted me to stay with her. I feel guilty for leaving.”

“What did you say?”

“Just that only one person could stay at a time, and if I were a parent, I would want to stay with my child. That her mom and dad insisted I go to work to keep my mind clear.”

I scoff, “And is your mind clear? You’re not her husband. I am.” There’s a discomfort between us that’s never been there before. When he doesn’t say anything, I lift my arms and let them fall in exasperation as I pace around the living room. “So, tell me everything you talked about when you brought Wynter a sandwich.”

He shrugs, “Normal stuff. The baby and cheese. Why did no one tell me she was craving cheese?”

“I didn’t know we had to report in on every little thing that happens. Drake, she’s my wife, and you’re one of our best friends but… I don’t know. I feel like you’ve been overstepping lately.”

“You’re upset and for good reason, but I’m going to work. You can’t be mad that I brought her food, can you?” He pivots toward the entry hall.

“Wait. I’m sorry. It’s just that everything changed in an instant. Are you sure you didn’t talk about anything else? Was she upset at me about something?”

Once we got our driver’s licenses as teenagers, Wynter would go to the gorge when she needed to think. Or when she was upset like when Mark died. If I’m to blame for her going there, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to forgive myself. It’s bad enough that I wasn’t here for my pregnant wife and was unavailable if she needed to talk because I was in a surgery.

Twisting his lip, Drake answers, “Not that she mentioned. I gotta…” He crooks his thumb toward the front door. “Go.”

Beau comes in as Drake’s leaving, and I hear the whispers between them but not the content of their conversation. I take the opportunity to go down the hall to her office. She had turned the sunporch into her office, saying she’s inspired by nature. She loves looking out at the hydrangeas that Jess grew in her garden then split them, giving some to Wynter who planted them in clusters throughout the landscaping.

There’s only one wall in this room; the rest are floor-to-ceiling windows. Her desk looks directly out, but her bookshelves rest on the wall, partially behind her extra-large chaise lounge. I scoot behind it and find the journal I bought her a few weeks ago. I run my fingers over the bindings of the row of journals. I’ve never read any of them and for the first time, I’m tempted, needing to know why she went to the gorge by herself.

I pull it out and flutter the edges and it appears she hasn’t written in this one. Half-relieved, I pat it against my hand and grab some colored pens from her Rae Dunn pencil holder that says, “All things are difficult before they’re easy.”

Words to live by.

Chapter Nine

Scott

Focused on the measured rise and fall of her chest, each breath is delicate and feminine. It’s a reminder that life is fragile. I’ve left the door cracked, and the dim light from the corridor filters inside the sterile hospital room, streaking over her pink cast.

She looks weak and small, so different from her hell on wheels, take no prisoners personality—yet still like my angel.

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