It’s midnight by the time we reach the bungalow. Max has stayed behind with Hudson, opting to keep him company. I haven’t been able to say a word to Bryce the whole way back. My guts are twisting and my stomach is churning. All I keep hearing are Hudson’s words repeating over and over, “I’m sorry, I don’t know you.”

Bryce guides me into the bungalow. His hand is warm, but I feel cold.

“Let me make you a cup of tea. You need something to eat too.”

“No, Bryce. I can’t stomach anything right now.” I stop in the middle of the room, my shoulders hunched, my heart bleeding.

“Louisa, don’t do that. Don’t give up now,” Bryce says, attempting to pull me in his arms. I shrug him off.

“You heard what he said, Bryce. Hudson doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know me,” I shout. I want to rage at the world. I want to scream. I want to hurt something.

“Calm down, Louisa. I know it’s upsetting, but this could all change tomorrow.”

A fierce anger uncorks in my chest. I know as I turn on Bryce that it’s not his fault, that he can’t be held responsible for the accident, for not making Hudson wear a helmet, but my anger doesn’t listen to the voice of reason.

“Calm down? Don’t tell me to fucking calm down, Bryce. It’s not you he doesn’t recognise. The man I love doesn’t know who I am.” I push at his chest in anger, in frustration, in fear.

Bryce stands there as I pummel my fist against his chest until I have nothing left in me. Then he grips me by the wrists and crushes me against his chest. I don’t cry. I have no damn tears left. “Why the hell does this shit have to happen to us? We must’ve been some evil arseholes in a previous life to deserve such fucking crap.”

“Stop it, Louisa. You heard what the doctor said. It’s common to get some memory loss after a head injury.”

I pull out of his arms. “The operative word being some. Forgetting the accident and the few hours proceeding it is to be expected, yes, but not long periods like this, Bryce. He doesn’t remember any of your trip to Alpe D’Huez. He doesn’t remember our life together these past few months. He doesn’t remember me…” My voice cracks, the pain I feel is worse than when I lost my mum. It’s a desperate kind of hollow. A bleak darkness. Pushing Bryce out of the way, I rush towards the bathroom of our bungalow, only just making the toilet bowl to throw up. I didn’t think I had anything left in me but, evidently, I was wrong.

“Sweetheart,” Bryce calls after me. I hear his footsteps as he enters the en suite. Bryce crouches down next to me and hauls me up in his arms.

“Stop torturing yourself. Enough. His memory will come back. I refuse to think otherwise.”

“What if it doesn’t. What if he can’t find his way to loving me again?” I whisper, all the anger, all the rage gone. Sadness is all that’s left now.

“He’s the same man, Louisa. You got him to love you once. You will do it again and that’s only if his memories don’t return.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Bryce guides me to the bed and pulls back the covers.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, you’ve been in them all day.”

“Sure,” I mumble, allowing him to undress me. A lump rises in my throat, but I swallow the tears back down. No more tears. Once I am free from my clothes, I climb into bed. Bryce pulls the covers up over my naked body, then presses a kiss against my cheek.

“I’m going to take a shower. Be back in a moment, okay?”

“Okay,” I respond, tucking my knees up to my chest and pulling the sheet right up to my chin, covering every inch of my naked body. I should probably shower too, but frankly I don’t want to move.

I watch as Bryce strips naked in front of me, then heads into the bathroom. The shower turns on and I hear him step inside, closing the glass door behind him. Ten minutes later he is back in the room and climbing into bed behind me. He slides in close and curls his body around mine, drawing me back against his massive chest. He smells of coconut and orchids. I turn in his arms and bury my head into the crook of his neck.

“This will work out, Louisa. Trust me on this, okay.”

“I want to believe you, I do. But life has shit on me more times than I care to remember. What makes this any different?”

“The difference is you have me, and Max. Even if he doesn’t ever get his memories back, Hudson will see how much we love you. He’ll see how special you are. He’ll fall in love with you again, I know it.”

Bryce looks down at me, his beautiful hazel eyes watery. In all of this mess, I’ve failed to recognise how frightened he must have been to see Hudson hanging limply on the end of that damn rope. I feel like a complete bitch.

“Bryce, I’m sorry. I’ve been so selfish. Come here,” I say, pulling him close.

We hold onto each other for long minutes, finding solace in each other’s arms. As always, Bryce makes me feel safe. It’s a special gift he has, and I adore him for it.

“You, selfish? Never. Sweetheart, you are just about the only one keeping me together right now. You’re my anchor, you’re my rock. You’re the person who keeps me from fucking losing my mind with worry. Don’t you realise how incredible you are?”

“But it’s not enough. I can’t fix this.”

Bryce strokes his hand against my face and feathers a kiss against my forehead. “It isn’t up to you to fix anything. Together we’ll work this out. You’re not alone anymore, Louisa. You haven’t been alone since that weekend in Petite Cabane. This isn’t your burden to shoulder.”

“I’m afraid, Bryce. I’m afraid that if Hudson doesn’t get his memories back, all that we’ve built together these past few months will be lost. I can’t lose him, Bryce. I can’t lose any of you. I’m not strong enough.”

Bryce pulls back, gripping me on the shoulders. “You are strong enough. You’re the strongest woman I know. This will not be the end of us, Louisa. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I whisper.

Bryce wraps me back in his arms and buries his face in my hair. We hold onto each other until eventually exhaustion claims us in the arms of sleep.