Chapter Five

Brenna

“I can’t believe he left already. He just got here,” I told Riley. “We were just talking about something other than my memory loss, and I felt almost…normal.”

“You’re probably losing your sense of time,” Riley said. She flopped down into the chair. “And besides, you already forgot me. Didn’t you?”

I shook my head. “Definitely not,” I told her. “My memory is just getting stronger and stronger. You’re Riley – we work together.”

Riley nodded. “That’s right. And do you know why I’m here today?”

I shook my head again.

“I’m taking you home.” She stood up and grinned. “You’re finally sprung. Come on, aren’t you excited?”

I nodded, joy rushing through my chest as I clutched the blankets. There was nothing I wanted more than to be back in my own apartment…not that I could recall the particulars, but it had to be better than the sterile hospital room. I felt dirty, and I knew my hair resembled a snarled rat’s nest – they hadn’t let me take a real shower since I was admitted yesterday.

After a flurry with the on-call neurologist, a nurse, and the woman working the discharge station, Riley wheeled me out of the hospital and into the blinding sunlight. Being outside felt kind of surreal. I knew that I should remember exactly where I was, but the images flashing through my brain remained fuzzy.

Riley had called for a cab, and the two of us rode into Flatbush, Brooklyn. When the cab stopped, I stepped out, dazzled.

“Do I really live here?” I asked Riley in a quiet voice after the cab pulled away. “I like it.”

Riley laughed. “It’s rent-controlled, so you’d better hope it stays that way or you’ll be moving to Queens.”

I nodded like I knew exactly what she was talking about. As we rode the creaky elevator up to the eleventh floor, I had a sense that I’d been here before. Instead of making me feel comforted, though, it just made me feel a little creeped out. The neurologist had assured me my long-term memory would return bit by bit but not knowing my own home and neighborhood just filled my gut with dread.

“Come on, Champ,” Riley said. “This way.” I followed her down a narrow hallway. She stopped in front of a door, and I nodded, figuring this must be where I lived.

“I got your keys from your bag,” Riley said. “Here.” She pressed a jumble of metal and plastic into my hand. Frowning, I stared down at the keys.

“Um, I don’t know which…”

Riley groaned in exasperation but started sorting through the mass of metal. “Let me see if I can figure it out.” Selecting one with a purple plastic head, she slid it into the lock, turned the doorknob and pushed.

After trailing behind her a few feet, I stopped and hissed in a breath. The apartment – my apartment? – was beautiful. It featured high ceilings, wall-to-ceiling windows, and lots of natural light.

And a hot mess.

“God, I’m such a slob,” I groaned, picking my way through the clutter. “Don’t I have a cleaning service or something?”

Riley burst out laughing. “On your salary at Sport Taste? I doubt it. Nice try though.”

I frowned. Something about the way she teased about my memory loss bothered me because it bordered on ridicule, but I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Somehow, I knew that I had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. Flashes of my mom pointing at me and labeling me as sensitive rushed back. Riley seemed like one of my only friends in the world due to her constant presence, and I didn’t want to do anything that risked alienating her, leaving myself alone and confused within a dangerous city.

“Hey, come here,” Riley said. She held up a metal-framed photo. “Do you remember these people?”

The picture showed an older couple, sitting on a brick stoop. The woman had a giant bush of frizzy red hair that hung around her head like a messy halo. The man was wearing a checkered shirt and worn jeans with dirty sneakers. They both looked incredibly happy – they weren’t really smiling, but there was a knowing look on both of their faces.

“Yeah,” I said after a moment, holding the photo close to my face and staring at it. “These are my parents.” I grew wistful. I wish they were here, but they were on an Alaskan cruise for their thirty-fifth anniversary. Not that I remembered where they were, but I’d found the note in my calendar. They wouldn’t be back for nine more days and I didn’t want to bother them since I was apparently not dying or anything horrible like that.

Riley nodded. “Good girl,” she said and set the photo down on the table. “What about her?” Riley grabbed another photo and handed it over.

This time, I had to stare for a little longer. The woman in the photo was pretty, but she looked self-conscious but very happy. She had long, glossy chestnut hair, but it was tied back in a bun at the nape of her neck. Frantic tendrils escaped and blossomed around her face like golden vines. She wore a black robe and clutched a framed piece of paper.

“Um,” I said slowly. “I think it’s me.”

“Right again!” Riley cheered. “On the day you graduated with honors with your bachelor’s in journalism from Columbia.”

I nodded, feeling more confident. “Gosh, I look awkward,” I said. “Am I awkward, Riley?”

Riley chuckled. “Nah, you were just nervous that day or so you’ve told me,” she said. “You grew into your looks. See, I’ll show you.” Taking my hand, she pulled me down a long hallway and into a fabulous bathroom with a walk-in shower, a bidet, and a skylight.

When I looked in the mirror, I groaned. My hair was piled into a messy bun on the top of my head but looked like it needed a good washing and combing. A huge bruise overtook my facial features and gave me a zombie-like appearance coupled with my alabaster skin. And my bright emerald eyes, which had been flashing vibrancy and joy in the graduation photo, looked flat and devoid of expression.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Riley said, pulling me backward. “But you’re normally really pretty. Trust me,” she added. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Men are constantly cat calling and clamoring to get in your space.”

I shut my eyes against my distressing appearance. “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” At least I didn’t think she would lie. I glanced at her smirk and wasn’t sure.

Together, we walked back down the hall. I sat on a suede couch in the living room and relaxed, tucking my feet up underneath my body.

“Hey…” I sat up straighter, noticing an issue of Sport Taste on the coffee table – the magazine I now knew I worked for. “I want to see that.”

“No,” Riley clipped out, snatching it up. “No, you don’t.” She rolled it into a tube and shoved it in her bag. “Remember, Brenna? You hate reading your published work. You told me that before. Hell, you’ve told everyone.”

“I do?” I narrowed my eyes. “That doesn’t seem like something I would say.” And it didn’t.

Riley laughed. “Don’t worry. You’re just confused. You’ll remember soon. You have a lot of idiosyncrasies.”

I frowned. I really didn’t like the way she kept making light of my injury. And me. It didn’t seem fair.

“Right.” I lifted a shoulder. “Anyway, I can’t believe Rhett Bradshaw came to see me.” I couldn’t help smiling at the way his name tasted falling from my lips. Just thinking about him made me feel flushed and hot. And, oh god…I brought my hands to my snarled hair and grimaced. After the way I looked today, I’d be lucky if I ever saw him again.

I buried my face in my hands.

“What? What’s wrong?” Riley sat down next to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Brenna, what happened? Is everything okay?”

“He came to see me today, and I look so horrible.” I moaned, still not lifting my face. “I can’t believe how ghostly I look right now. Like an extra for Night of the Living Dead.”

Riley shook her head. “You look fine,” she insisted. “And besides, I mean, he wasn’t exactly expecting you to look like a runway model after what you’ve been through. You were in the hospital with a concussion, for God’s sake.”

I sighed. Even though her supportive words rang true, they didn’t exactly make me feel any better about the horrific bruising on my face.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” Riley crowed. “I’m Riley Buxton, after all.”

I blinked. Had she always been this snotty and annoying? I couldn’t imagine that I’d brought this type of woman into my inner circle and called her my friend. Immediately after thinking that, I felt wracked with guilt. There was no reason for me to be so snarky about Riley. She was my co-worker, after all. And judging by the way she took control, we were very, very close friends. Her redeeming qualities would come out. They had to.

“He came to the hospital because he wanted to see you,” Riley said. She grinned a knowing smile. “That means he likes you.”

“I don’t think so.” I frowned, trying to make sense of it. “I mean, why would he go through the trouble except to make sure I was okay after getting hit by the ball he’d thrown? That must mean he’s a really nice guy, right?” I looked at Riley expectantly. She bit her lower lip, but nodded. “Besides, he’s a gorgeous professional athlete. What the hell does he want with me when he has to have spectacular women falling at his feet all over NYC?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Girl, you gotta recover that self-confidence that you lost at the hand of that runaway baseball. Brenna Sinclair doesn’t doubt herself. She runs through the world and grabs it by the balls. If she wants a man, she takes him.”

I frowned. That didn’t sound like me. At all. Worse, it didn’t feel right.

“Well, if you say so,” I said after a thoughtful pause. “What do you think of Rhett, Riley? Do you know him well?”

“Me?” Riley pointed to her chest as if there were more than one person in the room I could have addressed. “No, not really. Just a little bit, I mean, through work. But he’s such a sweet guy, Brenna. He’s got those down-to-earth New Jersey values. Do you like him?”

My stomach fluttered, and my heart skipped a beat whenever I thought of him. But I didn’t want to let Riley know that. Something about her gave me pause. I didn’t trust her, and I wasn’t yet sure why. Call it a gut instinct.

“I think I do,” I said. “I just wish I knew him better. I don’t have any memories of him. None at all.”

“Well, why not try to get to know him?” Riley suggested. “I mean, it is part of your job. We could even go to a Yankees game and watch him play.”

I frowned. “But that’s where I got hurt.”

“Brenna, you’re a sports journalist,” Riley said in obvious exasperation. “If you don’t get back on your feet now, when will you? Get back up on the horse and ride, girlfriend.”

I nodded. I knew she was right, but there was something in my subconscious picking away at my shaky confidence as my memory returned. Something about Rhett. Just when it loomed inside, about to make itself known, the shadow of memory would scamper away again. I couldn’t chase it.

“Yeah,” I said after a moment. “It would probably be a good idea, huh?”

Riley nodded. “And besides, doing things you used to do is supposed to help jog your memory. That’s what all the doctors have told me, anyway. Getting back to your normal routine.”

I gave it some thought. “Maybe that would help me. I mean, at this point, I’m kind of ready to try anything.”

“So, you have a crush on Rhett?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I wouldn’t exactly call it that…but there’s something about him. Almost like something I should know. I don’t know what it is, but he’s really intriguing.”

“Those gorgeous blue eyes don’t hurt, do they?”

I blushed. “He’s hot. I admit it. But it’s not about that – it’s something else. It’s like, what’s behind those eyes is almost sexier than anything else, you know? Like he’s an enigma, and I’m an investigator.”

“Yeah, duh. You are an investigator,” Riley said. “But I totally agree about what lurks beneath the surface being intriguing.”

“Maybe later, I’ll boot up my laptop and do a search on him.”

Riley’s eyes widened, but then she smiled. “Great idea. How about you take that bath and I’ll bookmark some sites for you.”

“Thanks, that’s really nice of you.”

She shrugged. “It’s no problem.”

I touched my cheek, wincing as a dull pain spread through my temple. “I really hope this bruise goes away. It looks like someone punched me right in the face.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Riley waved a hand in the air, dismissing me. “Why don’t you take that bath and get some sleep, huh? I’ll bookmark and then get out of here. There’s a game on Monday; we can go to that one if you want.”

I swallowed a nervous ball of energy down my throat. “What if the bruise hasn’t faded by then?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Girl, did you forget everything?” I looked at her blankly. “That’s why God invented concealer,” she added. She tapped the side of her head. “Don’t worry, Brenna. I’m your best friend. I’ll look out for you.”

I nodded, feeling slightly more confident. “Okay,” I said with a cheerful smile. “Thanks again for helping me out so much, Riley. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Riley grinned. “Of course,” she said and picked up my laptop, opening it up. “What else is a best friend for?”