“You are a genius!” Hope cries, running towards me full speed. I catch her and bring her up against me, while she laughs and wraps her arms so they loop behind my neck.

“I’m glad you think so,” I grin. “Can I ask what brought you to this conclusion?”

“We have four rooms rented, Aden! Four!” she squeals in victory. “You’re a genius!”

“How’s that?” I ask. I mean I’m glad she thinks it, but I’m not understanding the correlation between the two.

“They heard about our motel on the radio! Your ad you convinced the local radio station to do worked!!! Aden! We have guests!!!” she cries.

“I’m glad honey,” I answer, enjoying the happiness on her face.

“You did it! You made us a success!”

“No honey. I didn’t.”

“What? Of course you did! Didn’t you hear what I just said? We have four rooms rented! And two of those are renting for the weekend too!!!”

“Babe, I didn’t do that. You did,” I tell her honestly, cupping the side of her face.

“What? It was your ads…”

“Hope, look around. What do you see?”

“Aden, I don’t understand.”

“Look around. The colors of the motel, the fresh paint, the landscaping, the neon sign and the vintage feel that you wanted, who did all that?”

“I hired…”

“You did it. The stuff you had to hire out, you did, true. But, I know in my heart—even if I can’t remember it—that you are the one who did the painting, the cleaning and washing, the designing, the landscaping—”

“You’ve helped with the landscaping, Aden. You’ve helped with a lot.”

“Just lately. I didn’t help you at all before, did I?”

“Uh… Well no. But it wasn’t your job,” she says, looking down at the ground.

“I’m a man. A man, if he’s any kind of a man, works and breaks his back to help his woman and to provide for her.”

“Aden maybe we should talk—”

“I can’t remember our past, but I think it’s coming through loud and clear that I was not a man, not a good one.”

“It is?” she asks, blinking. “I think maybe you’re being unfair.”

“I’m glad the accident happened,” I confess, and her body goes rigid against me.

“You don’t mean that. Aden you could have died hitting that concrete like that and it was all my fault. You told me I needed to fix the railing. You did. I should have hired it done, but money has been so tight and I was worried no one would come stay here. I was afraid to spend much more. So I was going to fix it. I had it on my list, but I had so much to do and I was trying to take care of Jack and I just…”

“Hope. I should have fixed it for you. I was here, I could have done it.”

“It wasn’t your—”

“Did I have my dick inside of you, Hope?”

“What?” she gasps.

“While the fence was messed up, Babe. Was. My. Dick. Inside. You?”

“Well…”

“Simple question, Hope.”

“It’s a rude question,” she mutters, looking down at the ground.

“What’s the answer?” I grin.

“Yes, Aden you had your dick inside of me, while the fence was messed up. Though I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” she all but growls.

“Because I told you, but I don’t think you got it, so I’m going to say it again.”

“Aden, we really need to—”

I press my lips to hers, to stop her from talking.

“A man, who is any kind of man, gives his dick to a woman, and that woman is a good woman, he takes care of her. He doesn’t tell her to fix something, he fixes it for her.”

“I… I don’t know how to process this. I don’t know how to process you, really. You’re… so different from before,” she whispers, and I can see unshed tears shining in her eyes.

“Maybe what we need is time to get to know each other again.”

“But—”

“I can’t remember my past. How about from this day on, you forget the past too?”

“But—”

I pull away from her and hold out my hand. “I’m Aden… Fuck … Hope…”

“What? What is it?” she asks worried, probably because she can hear the frustration and partial fear in my voice. I might be a man, but I can definitely own up to the fear that I’m feeling right now.

“I don’t know my name.”

“Of course you do. It’s Aden. What’s wrong?”

“No, I mean with everything that’s going on, everything I’ve learned… I don’t even know my last name. Yours even! How could I have not asked or found out. I haven’t even… Fuck… Do I even have a wallet?”

I watch as color leeches out of Hope’s face and she takes a step back. She blinks a couple of times and takes a breath. I forget she doesn’t like to be reminded of this crap any more than I do. It has to hurt her that the man she… Fuck, I don’t even know if she ever loved me.

“Your wallet was, uh…stolen.”

“Stolen?”

“Yeah. You went out to the bar one night. We had had a fight and you wanted to go blow off some steam. You were robbed. Lost all your money, ID, cards, all of it.”

“Here in town? Have you followed up with the sheriff?”

“I…the case is closed. They couldn’t find who it was. There were some drifters in from out of town. You know how it is,” she shrugs, avoiding my eyes and I feel like I’ve stepped on another landmine that has upset her somehow.

“What’s our last name?”

“Well they’re not the same…”

“What? We’re married! You didn’t take my name?”

“Well no… you didn’t want me to. You hated your name.”

“What’s my name, Hope?”

“I… well…”

“Hope,” I growl, because she’s not answering. She’s looking around us at the rooms, the office, the sign…everywhere and anywhere—but at me.

“Aden, really I think we should talk,” she starts, taking a few steps away from me.

“What is my name?” I growl again, my frustration building. “Christ, is there some reason you can’t just give me a straightforward answer on things? It always develops into these stories! Stories that leave me wishing I hadn’t asked in the first place. That’s probably why I haven’t asked about my name before now,” I grumble.

I’m not being fair. I know I’m not. But, I’m so sick of not being… normal. I hate it when moments like this happen and I feel completely lost and out of my depth. It might not be Hope’s fault, but it’s so frustrating that she can’t just give me pertinent information and let the rest go. I know I was a dick. I know I fucked up. I hate these constant reminders of that, and I get the feeling she’s about to launch into another explanation that will make me feel like I should just cut off my balls and let her hang them in a fucking closet.

“Stop growling at me! You’re not being reasonable.”

“Well I’m not feeling reasonable. Maybe I would if you would just tell me my name,” I huff out loudly, holding my head down, and pinching the bridge of my nose.

“It’s Hard-Acre!”

“Hard… what?”

“Hard-Acre. We named the motel after you. Are you satisfied now?”

“Aden… Hard-Acre?” I whisper, wishing I hadn’t even asked.

“Well, yeah,” she says, hugging her arms around herself in a defensive position.

Great. I’ve scared her… scared her and…

“Shit. My name sounds like a porn star,” I growl, looking down at the ground.

I hear Hope’s gasp. I bring my gaze back to her and that’s when she laughs.

And somehow her laugh makes it better.