“You don’t look very well,” said Luke as Hunter answered his apartment door the next morning.

“Sorry,” sniffled Hunter, partially hiding behind the door. “I was throwing up all night. Did you need something?”

“I thought I could teach you how to cook something for breakfast, but that’ll have to wait. Have you managed to eat anything since lunch yesterday?” asked Luke, concern flooding him as he looked at the pallid face of the sickly little omega standing across from him. He barely managed to suppress the urge to touch his forehead and check for a fever.

“No.” Hunter shook his head. “I can’t even go near the kitchen right now without dry heaving. My friend brought over a bunch of takeout food last night, and the smell of it still hasn’t gone away.”

“Okay, you’ve got to eat something, and I’m assuming you haven’t gotten any fluids in you either. Let me go back to my apartment and get some things, and then I’ll cook you some soup,” suggested Luke.

“I don’t want you to go through all that trouble if I’m just going to throw up again,” protested Hunter.

“Nonsense, this soup recipe has been in my family for generations. It’s the ultimate treatment for nausea of all kinds. My mom swore by it. She said it was what got her through all four of her pregnancies.” Luke smiled. “So don’t worry, just go sit down. Leave the door unlocked, I’ll be right back to take care of you.”

“Okay,” relented Hunter, withdrawing from the door and retreating further into the apartment.

Luke quickly returned to his apartment and grabbed the ingredients he needed for the soup.  He would have to remember to call his mother later and thank her again for sending him the cans of soup stock she’d made over the summer.

When he got back to Hunter’s loft, Hunter had curled into a ball on the sofa near the window and was staring absently at the blank wall across from him.

“Before I get started, do you need anything?” asked Luke as he set his pile of ingredients in the kitchen. He sniffed the air experimentally, but didn’t smell any of the takeout that Hunter had mentioned.

“No.” Hunter’s voice was barely audible from the other room. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble for me.”

“Nonsense,” said Luke as he pulled out a large pot from one of the cupboards. “I’m not going to let you waste away when I live right next door.”

Hunter said nothing, but sank down into the cushion on the sofa as Luke got to work.

The soup was basically just an amped up version of chicken soup. It used fresh ingredients and his mother’s own homemade soup stock that she canned herself. Everyone in his family swore by it. As far as Luke was concerned, there was nothing better for nursing someone back to health than a great big bowl of this soup made with love.

By the time the soup was done, Hunter had fallen asleep.

Luke didn’t want to wake him, but he didn’t want to risk letting him become dehydrated either. He hovered uncertainly beside Hunter’s sleeping form, before kneeling beside the sofa.

When they’d first started dating, someone at Hunter’s law firm had caught chicken pox from their kid and was spreading it around. Hunter had gotten it and become extremely ill. Adults that had never had chickenpox before always got it far worse than if they’d had it as a child. Hunter’s case was particularly brutal, and he’d ended up having to go to the hospital for treatment.

Luke had sat beside him every single day and simply watched him sleep. Hunter hadn’t needed him for anything. All his needs were being met by the doctors and nurses in the hospital, but Luke had never left his side.

For a moment, sitting there on the floor of Hunter’s apartment, he felt a stab of agony that Hunter would never remember that. He’d never recall waking up and seeing Luke sitting there ready to assist him.

It took several seconds for Luke to steady himself. Those memories didn’t matter anymore. They were from another lifetime. What mattered the most in this moment was making sure Hunter was healthy.

Luke laid a hand on Hunter’s forehead. No fever. That was good at least. Whatever it was probably wasn’t too serious then.

Hunter stirred beneath his hand and slowly opened his eyes.

“Hey, I was just checking to see if you had a fever,” explained Luke, withdrawing his hand and smiling softly. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” said Hunter, stifling a yawn and stretching back against the couch cushions.

“Do you think you could eat something?” asked Luke, sitting back on his heels.

“I could try.” Hunter shifted slightly on the sofa and looked directly at him. He seemed to be studying Luke’s face in detail.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really,” said Hunter, shaking his head. “I just had a weird dream that’s all.” He slowly dragged himself upright. “It’s no big deal.”

If this had been another lifetime, Luke might have pressed him for details. For now, no matter how aggravating, he had to remember his current role in Hunter’s life.

“I’ll get you some bread and a little soup. If you can keep that down then I’ll get you some more,” explained Luke as he returned to the kitchen.

“I can get it,” insisted Hunter making no move to leave the couch. He was clearly feeling under the weather. Whatever it was had completely knocked him off his feet.

“Hunter, you’re sick,” said Luke as he returned with a small bowl and a slice of bread. “It’s okay to let people take care of you once in awhile. It doesn’t mean you’re weak or any less capable. It just means you’re sick. Everyone needs someone to take care of them from time to time. Today that’s me taking care of you.”

Hunter took the bowl and the bread and began sampling the food cautiously.

Luke busied himself with cleaning up the kitchen. There wasn’t much of a mess because he was such a careful cook, but he didn’t want to leave any extra work for Hunter. A few minutes passed before Hunter’s voice drew his attention.

“Do you think I could have a little more?” he asked.

Luke smiled. “Coming right up.”

***

BY THE TIME HE LEFT Hunter’s apartment, some color had started to return to Hunter’s cheeks. He was sitting up and watching TV with a bowl of soup nearby. Luke had given him instructions to text him if he threw up again.

Unfortunately, however, Luke couldn’t focus on the fact that he’d successfully nursed Hunter back to some semblance of health. He was preoccupied with the ‘friend’ that kept popping up in Hunter’s life. He was almost certain this was the same friend that had texted him after they had left the gallery yesterday. Whoever it was had already taken Hunter on a date and gone job hunting with him as well.

As he reached his own apartment, he came to the somber realization that nearly all of his interactions with Hunter had taken place on the fourth floor of this building. As far as Hunter was concerned, they’d never gone anywhere and done anything together just for fun. Even their trip to the gallery today was because Hunter had an interview with Allen.

But that wasn’t important right now. Luke refocused on the mysterious friend that had invaded Hunter’s life. He needed to get to the bottom of the situation without pressuring Hunter into sharing personal details. He couldn’t risk upsetting the balance of trust he had begun to establish in Hunter’s life.

So he dug out his cell phone and called up the only person who might know the answer. Hunter’s mother.

Truth be told, it was a long shot. He knew Hunter had withdrawn from his family almost entirely since returning to his apartment. Still, she was the only tool he had without staking out Hunter’s front door like some sort of obsessive stalker.

“Luke?” she sounded genuinely surprised when she answered the phone. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear from you again.”

“Sorry Melinda, I’ve been busy lately.” It was a lame excuse. They both knew why he hadn’t called to catch up recently. Thankfully, she didn’t call him out on it.

“I suppose this isn’t a social call then?” she asked, sounding somewhat disappointed.

“I just had a quick question,” explained Luke. Melinda was capable of talking for hours on end and he wasn’t particularly interested in dragging out this phone conversation. “There’s someone in Hunter’s life right now, and I don’t know who it is. The only clue he’s given me is that it’s someone from before he lost his memory. They’ve already taken him out on a date and they’re spending more and more time together.”

“What makes you think I know anything?” she laughed derisively. “The last time I talked to him was a few days ago. He promised to come to Easter dinner and then hung up. Didn’t mention anyone he was spending time with.”

Luke felt his heart sink a little. He didn’t relish the idea of going into stalker mode.

“All of this could have been avoided you know,” continued Melinda. Her tone had softened a little. “In fact, you could probably still avoid it.”

“We went over this all already,” said Luke, staring out the window of his apartment and pressing his forehead against the glass. “I can’t tell him anything.”

“You two were about to get married, Luke,” insisted Melinda. “I’ve never seen two people more in love than the two of you. You can’t just throw that all away.”

“It’s because of that love that I can’t tell him. Imagine if you woke up and didn’t remember your husband. You know he’s desperately in love with you, bending over backwards to take care of you. You’ve got decades of memories together. So what do you do? You end up staying with him because you feel obligated by the old commitment you made. A commitment you don’t even remember. Maybe you eventually manage to fall in love with him again, but it is more likely you just resent your past self’s decisions.”

“How long did it take you to come up with that speech?” asked Melinda. If nothing else, she was the sort of person to call you out when she thought you were being an idiot. It was both endearing and annoying. “We both know why you made me delete your number from his phone and why you made me help you steal all of your pictures from his loft. We both know why you swore everyone to secrecy and cut yourself completely out of his life.”

Luke said nothing as she prepared her accusations. This was exactly why he had avoided calling her for as long as possible. He wasn’t ready to face the wrath of a mother concerned for her son. He wasn’t ready to face the indignation of the woman that would have been his mother-in-law.

“You did it because you blame yourself,” continued Melinda, her tone softening. “You blamed yourself when he wound up in the hospital. You blamed yourself for the coma. And you blamed yourself for the amnesia. You’re punishing yourself because you think you’re responsible for what happened. But you’re not. No one else blames you.”

“Why not?” retorted Luke.

“Because it was out of your control. You didn’t cause any of it. You’re not responsible for a freak cold snap and a patch of ice on the sidewalk. So stop blaming yourself.”

“Bu—“

“I said, ‘stop blaming yourself,’” repeated Melinda. “You’re a good man, Luke. As far as I’m concerned you’re already part of the family. I’m not going to force you to tell Hunter anything, but if you’re dead set on keeping this secret then you’ve got to open yourself up to the possibility that you might lose him.”

“No,” said Luke, firmly. “I can’t.”

“Then you’ve got to figure something out because it sounds like someone is moving in on your territory, fast.”