Page 7 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“I want to remember. Now.”

“Sleep…”

I don’t know if it’s a command or a plea, but my body betrays me and complies. Before long, I’m lost between dreams and memories once more, trying to figure out who I am, where I’ve been.

Trying to figure out where I belong.

And miserably failing as the darkness hugs me tighter.

2

Anya

Two days go by in a thinning haze.

My body needs time to recover from what was clearly a violent shock. My head still hurts, though the pounding has begun to subside. There’s still a dull throbbing in my side, but with some proper breathing, I’m able to suffer less as I manage to move on my own.

My past, however, remains a mystery.

And the brothers who took me in, the dangerously dashing men who are nursing me back to health, are evasive. They insist on letting the memories come back on their own. More often than not, I end up agreeing because my brain splits when I dig deeper.

“I can’t see anything,” I tell Chance as I make my way to the window.

He’s midway into changing the bed linens. “It’ll take a while to clear all that snow,” he says, spreading the clean fitted sheet over the mattress. “From the looks of it, the blizzard will go on through Sunday, like they predicted.”

“Let me help.” I turn around a little too fast and come to a sudden halt.

“Or maybe take it easy,” he replies, giving me a worried look.

“I’m okay.” I sigh deeply. “Still woozy.”

“Please, don’t rush the healing process. Without access to a hospital or medical supplies beyond what we have in our medicine cabinet and first-aid kit, we can’t risk you making things worse for yourself. We’re stuck here, I’m afraid. With each other.”

Sitting in the chair next to the bed, I let my shoulders slump. “That’s not what bothers me. I have nothing but gratitude for everything you and your brothers have done for me.”

“Don’t mention it; I wish we could do more.”

“My brain is my enemy right now, and I don’t understand how any of this happened.”

“That was quite the conk on the head,” Chance mutters, stealing another glance at me as he slips on the pillowcases. I let my gaze wander, noticing the fine white linen fabric, the blue stitched flowers that adorn the edge of the cover and the pillowcases. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

“Still, what was I doing out here?” I pause, the skyscrapers coming back to the forefront of my consciousness. Skyscrapers and a statue. A giant statue holding a torch, gazing out at the ocean. “New York,” I add with a gasp.

Chance stills, narrowing his green eyes at me.

“Am I from New York?” I ask, my voice trembling. It sounds right in my head. “There’s a brownstone… a narrow street on a block somewhere. It looks familiar.”

“Is there a magnolia tree in front of it?” he replies, almost holding his breath.

Giant pink petals falling. Every spring.

“Yes. There’s a little green space right in front of the building, before the sidewalk begins,” I say, letting my mind work through the image. Every time I let the memory unfold without me forcing myself to gather information, the details emerge on their own. “A big magnolia tree on one side and rose bushes on the other.”

I hear children laughing and cheering.

A tall boy with platinum-blonde hair and blue eyes like mine. A warm and reassuring smile.Throw the ball, Anya. Come on!he tells me. I giggle and throw it at him. It’s a baseball with red stitches along the grooves. I’m holding a pitcher’s glove.

So is he. The boy with eyes like mine.

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