Chapter Seven

Brenna

The piercingly loud blast of a horn caught me by surprise, and I jumped. Letting out a little shriek, I covered my ears with my hands and winced in pain.

Rhett burst out laughing. I must have glared at him because the moment he saw my expression, his laughter faded and a guilty grin took its place.

“Hey, sorry,” Rhett said. “I keep forgetting you’re not really used to baseball.” He grinned wryly. “We gotta get you back to your seat. It’s time for all the press to get back in the stands. Field warm-ups are starting, and the chance of you getting clocked with another rogue ball increases exponentially the longer we stand here as human targets.”

I frowned and stepped off the mound to head in. “So soon?” I tilted my head up and glanced over toward the stands. Sure enough, a small crowd of pinstripe-wearing fans had already filtered into the stadium. Riley stared at me in open fascination. When I caught her eye, she waved a hand in the air.

“Yeah,” Rhett said with that trademark smirk that made my knees wobble. “I mean, much as I’d love to stay here with you and walk around. Coach is shooting daggers at me already.”

I blushed under his scrutiny as my heart flipped inside my chest. “Thanks for showing me around. I had fun seeing the field up close.”

Rhett raised an eyebrow. Just as I thought he was about to say something flirtatious, another player jogged up, and we were interrupted again just like we’d been at the hospital. I recognized Ernie right away, the guy Riley had kissed a few minutes ago. I’d chosen to ignore her rash actions because I had no idea if they were out of character for her. While memories of my parents and childhood were coming back in waves, Riley and our relationship remained under the cover of darkness.

“Rhettinator, get your ass to the dugout before Don goes ballistic,” Ernie said, chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mirth. His grin showed bright, white teeth. A looker. Too bad he’d been standing next to Rhett, or I might have noticed him more, but any other man seemed to pale in comparison. “Although I understand why you would feel like defying him while in the company of this gorgeous woman.”

My blush deepened to a crimson red, and my cheeks burned under his blatant flirtations. “I’ll walk myself back to the stands. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

As I turned on my heel and started toward the press box, Rhett grabbed my hand. The feel of his rough, calloused skin against mine sent shivers down my spine, and I inhaled a steadying breath before whirling around.

“I’ll wait for you after the game,” Rhett said, sporting some puppy dog look that appeared to be a trip away from his usual solid confidence. “You and Riley feel like hanging out? We could talk about some sound bites for your next story.”

“Sure, yeah,” I said, dazzled by his smile and the glint of light in his perfect blue eyes. “Of course.”

Rhett’s smile lit something deep within me. Tugging. Pulling. I hurtled toward something, but I had no idea what. Or how hard it would hurt when I landed.

“Excellent,” he said in a low voice that sent another pulse of desire through my body. “I can’t wait.”

“I can’t wait,” Ernie parroted, in a high-pitched tone reeking of mimicry. Blushing again, I finally pulled my hand free from Rhett Bradshaw’s and hurried across the field and toward the stands.

By the time I reached Riley, the butterflies in my stomach had almost faded, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. I didn’t know what it was about Rhett Bradshaw, but something about his smile, his demeanor…hell, even his voice made me feel captivated and hypnotized. In fact, now that I sat next to Riley, I could barely remember what we’d been talking about. The words hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that I’d been in his company, by his side, enjoying the warm glow that emanated from his body like July sunshine.

“Hey, head in the clouds girl, I’m talking to you,” Riley snapped.

“What?” I squinted at her. “You were?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “Duh,” she said, tossing her brown hair. “You were just off in la-la-land. Fantasizing about Mr. Bradshaw much?”

“Definitely not,” I lied. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a little out of it today. Head injury and all that.” Now that I’d left Rhett on the field, I wished I hadn’t come to the game. Being here jarred my mind and body, rattling me, and I felt both guilty and angry that I couldn’t remember what was going on. Covering baseball games had apparently been the bulk of my reporting for Sport Taste.

What would happen to my career if my memory didn’t recover? Would I be fired and lose it all?

“Anyway,” Riley said, pushing a bundle of papers in front of me. “Read over these.”

“What are they?” I frowned and picked them up, shifting them around on my lap.

“They’re the editorial guidelines for Sport Taste,” Riley said. “Maybe if you read over them, you’ll remember.”

I read the papers for fifteen minutes and then decided to buy a soda from a vendor during the warm-ups. Nothing I read jogged my memory, and before I knew it, the national anthem blared from the speakers surrounding the stadium. I popped to my feet and placed my hand over my heart as a teenage girl in a spangled dress belted the melody from the pitching mound.

The pitching mound, I thought. The same place Rhett will be standing in just a few moments. Where I can stare at him without being discovered and judged.

The thought made me tingle all over. At least with his lithe body throwing the ball in a public forum, I could watch him unfettered by anyone else’s prying eyes. Once the song finished, I sat down and buried my head in the papers again, hoping I’d missed something important during the first read-through. But as soon as I started reading, my head began to ache. Furthermore, the instructions were nothing short of ridiculous. Had I actually followed these for years?

“God, who wrote these?” I grumbled, flipping from one page to another. “These are almost impossible.”

Riley looked up at me, smirking. “You did. I mean, not originally. Nina wrote the first draft. But these are your personal notes. I lifted them from your desk.”

I frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Riley said in an exasperated tone, shaking her head from one side to the other. “God, Brenna. You’re being really thick. What would be in it for me to lie to you? We’re colleagues, and you’re my superior. Your success equals mine.”

“But why didn’t you just tell me that I wrote these in the first place?” I shrugged, feeling helpless under her constant criticism. “Now I really feel stupid.”

Riley bit her lip. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I guess I thought reading over your own words would help you remember.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, be more transparent in the future, please.” I wasn’t able to hide my waspish tone anymore. My fingers itched to slap her smug face. “I’m already confused enough.”

“Brenna, God, I’m trying to help,” Riley said, and I fisted my hand to keep from striking her. I couldn’t believe I’d hung out with such a meanie. “Don’t you understand that?” She linked her arm through mine, and I fought not to recoil. All I wanted to do was get the hell away from her. “I’m your best friend, after all.”

I nodded and looked back down at the sheets in front of me.

“Hey, this is weird,” I said, flipping through the pages. “There’s a page missing.”

“Yeah, weird,” Riley said, holding a pair of binoculars to her face, watching as the players spilled onto the field. The press box offered an unobstructed view of the field, but not so close that I could see the players without squinting just a bit.

“There is,” I insisted, pushing the bundle back over to her lap. “Look, page eight is gone. It skips right from seven to nine.”

“What’s eight?” Riley gave me a blank look.

Panic washed over me, and my jaw dropped. After a few seconds, Riley burst out laughing and grabbed my hand.

“Oh my god, Brenna, you should’ve seen your face!” She cackled, covering her mouth with both hands. When she saw my steely glare, her laughter faded. “Sorry. It was just a joke, Jesus!”

For some reason, I didn’t think she was sorry at all. My mind drifted to that movie with Jennifer Garner, 13 Going On 30. The entire time Jennifer’s character, Jenna, thought her best friend Lucy was supporting her, she’d been sabotaging her while trying to steal her job. I’d have to keep a watchful eye on this weird girl.

Closing my eyes, I saw the movie play out in my mind, but I wasn’t able to see what happened last week in any detail. Amnesia made no sense. It was like black paint had been thrown onto my memory. Some things weren’t touched, while others were completely opaque. Especially the things that had happened in the past year or so.

Riley chuckled at something I wasn’t aware of, and I slid my eyes to her, annoyed.

I wondered if it was normal for me to always feel this irritated with my best friend. Had something happened to me when that ball hit my head? Had it somehow changed my personality? Was I the same Brenna Sinclair as before, or had something fundamental shifted, like a switch or a lever? When I talked to my mom in upstate, all had seemed normal and supportive from her end. She and my dad insisted on being patient; that the doctors had told them they were certain I’d make a full recovery.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be mad,” Riley said before I could reply. “I mean, it was just a joke, Brenna. You have to learn how to lighten up. You had a great sense of humor before.”

I rolled my eyes. “I bet. And nothing is wrong. I mean, well, yeah, something is bothering me. I just wish my memory would come back.”

“I’m sure it will in time,” Riley assured. She lifted the binoculars to her face and squinted. “Wow, he’s sucking today. Look.”

She passed me the binoculars, and I held them up to my eyes, adjusting the focus until Rhett’s handsome face came clearly into view. The sight of him biting his lip, sweating in concentration sent a new herd of butterflies racing through my stomach. But when he wound up his arm and flung it, the ball soared through the air…and hit the dirt outside the batter’s box.

“Holy shit,” Riley muttered next to me. “He’s tanking this game. What the hell is wrong with him?”

She snatched the binoculars back from me and held them to her face, leaning over.

“This is crazy,” she said. “Brenna, get a load of this!”

“I was before you yanked them out of my hands,” I grumped. “He’s not doing a good job, is he?”

“No.” She set the binoculars down, then scribbled some notes on a pad on her lap. When I leaned over and tried to read, she snatched the paper away and held it up in the air.

“What the hell?” I narrowed my eyes. “Are we keeping secrets now?”

“No,” Riley said, but her guilty look negated her words. “Don’t worry about work, Brenna. Just watch the game, relax, and try to remember. You’re not on a deadline. I am.”

Doubt sprouted inside of me and wormed its way all through my body, snaking through my limbs. I wished I could relax. I wished I could do anything except dwell on my feelings of inadequacy. I could feel myself falling into a deep, dark, heavy depression, and as much as I wanted it to stop, it seemed impossible to halt the downward spiral. I couldn’t stop the frustration welling up inside of me, every time I looked at something and thought, I must know that from somewhere.

“I hate this,” I said, reaching down and scratching my ankle.

“What, the game?” Riley turned to me. “I mean, Rhett’s doing a horrible job, but it’s not that bad.” She grinned. “Hey, want a beer to replace that boring Coke you’ve been nursing?”

“What? No. I meant this.” I tapped the top of my head. “Not being able to remember. Feeling like a complete failure. You know, just worried that my memory won’t ever come back and my life will end up ruined before it really even gets started.”

Riley frowned. “Brenna, it’s only been a couple of days. You have to be patient because the doctor said it could take weeks to completely recover. I’m sure everything’s going to be fine.” She glanced over at the scoreboard. “Wow, they’re down four to nothing. That’s embarrassing for only the bottom of the second.”

Bottom of the second. Down four to nothing. I thought about the phrases until the words fell apart and turned to bland mush in my brain. I knew that I should remember the lingo, the terms, the rules of the game…but the harder I tried to concentrate, the more aggravated I felt. How could I remember a random rom com in vivid detail but not the game I supposedly loved?

“I just feel so frustrated.” I turned to Riley. Her eyes were still glued to the field, but she nodded along.

“I know, but this is temporary, Brenna. The doctors are sure you’ll make a complete recovery. Your lack of memory and resulting frustration are normal. Quit worrying. You’ll be back to ball-busting-Brenna in no time.”

I was a ball buster?

I closed my eyes and tried to think about the hospital again. Mostly, I remembered being bored. I remembered the doctors leaning over me and talking about me like I was a battered body without a soul.

A loud jeering noise drifted up into the air. I stood up from my seat and leaned over the railing. Rhett stood on the mound, looking despondent. I could tell even without borrowing Riley’s binoculars. The crowd threw boos and groans onto the field.

“Shit.” Riley stood up and shook her head. “This is terrible, Brenna. He’s never played this badly before. What if you’re the reason?”

“It seems really bad,” was all I could say because blaming me for Rhett’s bad play wasn’t even worthy of a response.

“He used to be really good,” Riley said. “League MVP. You remember that, right?” She cocked her head and looked at me. “I mean, you haven’t forgotten everything, have you?”

Forcing a smile, I nodded. “Yeah,” I lied, vowing to go read about it later. “Yeah. I remember.”

The truth was, I didn’t remember at all, but I didn’t want to be the recipient of any more of her verbal barbs. I barely remembered the mechanics of baseball, let alone Rhett Bradshaw’s ability to complete a game without getting pelted by peanut shells and beer in red Solo cups.

None of this made sense.

I just wished I knew what I could do about it.