Page 10 of Brody
My laughter sounded hysterical, even to my own ears. “Not focused enough? If you were any more focused, lasers would have been shooting out of your eyes. I’m the idiot who can’t even defend himself against a baseball bat.”
“Stop,” Brody said, his voice hard. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’ve already been through a lot, and most peoplewouldn’t know what to do if they got jumped by a bunch of armed men in the middle of a deserted road.”
His voice may have been harsh, but his hands were gentle as he carefully inspected my wrist.
“You knew what to do,” I grumbled, though I obediently kept my hand held out for him to manipulate as he wanted. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
“That’s different. I’ve had training. Your wrist seems okay. I’m not seeing any obvious injuries. How does it feel?”
I swiveled my wrist around on its joint. It was a little sore, but didn’t seem to be broken or sprained.
“It’s fine. But, now what are we going to do?”
When he looked at me with confusion, I nodded toward the tree that was still blocking the road.
“Ah, right,” Brody said, as if he’d only just remembered the obstructing tree existed. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”
Standing up, he jumped into the back of his truck. After rooting around in the truck’s toolbox for a moment, he held up a whole chainsaw for me to see.
I wasn’t sure what my face was doing, but whatever expression I made must have been hilarious, because Brody outright laughed at me.
“What? I’m a lumberjack. What else would I be carrying in the back of my truck? Give me a few minutes and I’ll get that tree out of the way, then we can get out of here.”
The chainsaw wasn’t small. Most people would require two hands to support it, yet Brody easily carried it with one hand asif it weighed nothing. The muscles in his forearms bulged as he lined the chainsaw up with the side of the tree, and my throat suddenly felt dry.
Swallowing a few times, I had to look away.
My gaze trailed idly over the ground and caught on the puddle of blood that my attacker had left behind. Sudden pain assaulted me, like a thin needle being inserted into my skull just above my left eye. The image of blood mixing with dirt hovered behind my closed eyes, shifting into a new but similar scene.
As the peace of the forest was broken by the sound of a chainsaw revving up, I continued to sit there in the dirt, marveling at the feeling of my first true memory filling my mind.
Brody’s homewasn’t what I expected. When he’d described the place, he made it sound like a typical house with a homegrown garden on the land.
Instead, what I discovered was a significant patch of land with multiple houses and buildings in various stages of construction and a garden large enough to be considered a small farm. The sun was going to set soon, and its last rays of light cast everything in a golden glow. It didn’t look real, like something from a movie set rather than real life, and I stared out through the window at the scenery in awe.
The moment the truck came to a stop, even before Brody had shut off the ignition, two other people immediately approached us.
Magnus co-owned the property with Brody, and with his long blond hair, he honestly looked like something out of Norse mythology.
The second man, Trent was just as well built as both Magnus and Brody, though he lacked a certain edge that marked him as a military man. He didn’t live on the property, but I got the feeling he was comfortable there. I was given a quick introduction, and was able to pick up that Trent was someone significant to Magnus.
Partner?
Boyfriend?
I was already feeling so overwhelmed that the exact title flew right past me. The drive from Rynkirk to Emberwood hadn’t taken that long, even including our pit stop for an unwanted shootout. Yet, I was already exhausted.
Luckily, Brody noticed my flagging energy and herded me off into the guestroom of his own house where a shower and a fresh set of clothes waited for me. I’d once again managed to get completely filthy, so the shower was appreciated, but I felt odd about the clothes. They belonged to Brody, the inclusion of red flannel made that obvious, and while they fit me well enough to make do for now, they still weren’t my own clothes.
I didn’t have my own clothes. I didn’t have my own anything.
I was grateful for his help, but how long would it last?
If the authorities never figured out who I was and I never got my memories back, would Brody just keep supporting me forever?
Or worse, what if I did get my memories back, and it turned out I was a terrible person?
Sitting on the bed in the little guest room, dressed in only a towel, I stared down at the borrowed clothes in my hand as guilt bubbled in my stomach.
