Molly:

“Holy shit. I need to stop paying my agent so much money.” I whistle as we pull into the gated driveway of Josh’s cabin.

Sure it would’ve been nice to fly, but the ride here was fun. We took turns driving, even though my blood pressure nearly shot through the roof every time he got behind the wheel. The thought of him getting pulled over and being tossed into jail for driving without a license isn’t something I want to deal with right now. We have a romantic weekend ahead of us after all, and I have an awards ceremony to attend.

Maybe on the ride home. Maybe if he gets arrested the police will help us find out who he actually is. I wouldn’t wish it on him obviously, but as our relationship gets deeper and deeper and we get closer and closer, I start getting more desperate for answers.

We decided mutually that we could put off the search until after this weekend. Between his handful of contracting jobs he’s picked up and me avoiding writing the story I was already paid nicely for, things have kind of gotten stressful in the bus. We’re good, the two of us, obviously, but adding another layer of chaos to the dog pile is just not something I’m eager to get into right this second.

“Can you imagine what it would be like to have this kind of money?” I stammer. The log cabin is massive on the outside with a huge wraparound porch. I spot a hot tub in one corner. The garage next to it is two stories high, and the koi pond in the front is bigger than my entire bus. It takes my breath away.

“How was your ride, love?” Josh asks when he answers the front door. “And this must be the new man friend, I presume?”

“It was a nice trip,” I tell him. “A little long, I’m pretty beat. And yes, this is Tucker.”

“Tucker, it’s great to meet you, man. I’ve heard so much about you,” he says, shaking his hand. “Molly says you’re the inspiration of her newest story?”

He laughs. “Was. Now I’m just the guy who carries her suitcases around and walks her dog.”

I wrinkle my nose and grab one of my bags off of his shoulder. “Hey, I also let you buy me stuff,” I tease. “God, I’m delightful.”

“Molly says you’re quite the hunter,” Josh says. “Maybe next elk season you can come out to my camp.”

“I’ve only shot one elk in my life,” he says confidently. The look that washes over his face is one of confusion, but almost delight, like he is trying to process this newfound memory.

“When was that?” I ask, trying to push him a little bit. “Or was it recently?”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Sorry, I don’t know. Do you guys care if I go lie down for a little bit? My head is killing me. That drive was rough.”

“I’m going to get out of your hair, guys,” Josh says. “Let you get that romantic weekend on. I just wanted to drop the keys and say hello. I had to make sure you made it here in one piece. Bailey is out in the guest house if you need anything. I told her dinner at seven, if that works for you two?”

“Jesus, Josh, is it rude if I ask you how you can afford all this?”

“It is rude. But it’s not my money if that’s what you’re implying. Or your money, I mean. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Most people don’t get so lucky as to be rich and beautiful like me. You two enjoy the house. I’m sure my father would be proud to have such a prolific up-and-comer under his roof.”

Up-and-comer is one way to put it. Girl who’s about to blow her one shot with a big name magazine because she’s in way over her head is probably the better way. Right now I’m not worried about that though. Right now I’m worried about Tucker.

Was that a moment of clarity? Or was it just his imagination? He didn’t say anything to me about shooting an elk with the Vagrants, so I don’t think that’s what he meant.

The way he’s holding his temples makes me think I need to just get him to bed so he can relax.

“I’m sorry, guys,” Tucker says. “This really isn’t like me.”

“I get it, man,” Josh assures him. “That’s a really long trip. I’ll see you two tomorrow afternoon. We’ll pick you up and take you to the ceremony.”

He hands me the keys to the house and gives me a polite hug before letting himself out.

“Come on, Tucker,” I say. “Let’s go take a nap or something.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Stop being sorry. Are you ok? Do you need something to drink? Do you want to talk? Do you think you need to go to the emergency room?” His face is pale and his palms are sweaty.

“I think I just need to go lie down. I don’t want to ruin this for you, Mary. I know how important this is.”

“Did you just call me Mary?” I ask, hoping desperately that I misheard him.

He’s looking at me curiously, like I’m a stranger. He’s trying to read my face, and I’m sure it’s nothing short of a puzzled frown.

“No, Molly. I’m sorry. You must’ve heard me wrong. Let’s go find the bedroom.”

I know I didn’t mishear him. I know what he said. He knows it, too. Even if he’s not having memories, I don’t like seeing him disoriented. Knowing that he likely had a head injury to begin with makes me feel so irresponsible letting him put off his visit to the doctor’s until after this trip.

I can’t make the man do anything he doesn’t want to. I’ll let him sleep, but I’m going to keep a close eye on him. If he’s still acting funny tomorrow, then we are definitely going to have a serious talk about going to the hospital.

The cabin is open concept, huge, the walls rough cut lumber that smell like cedar wood, and the staircase is a spiral leading to a loft. There are animals mounted all over the walls, eyeballs on me everywhere I look. I know it’s a stylistic thing, and I’m not a vegetarian by any means, but I personally find it a little creepy.

Tucker probably loves it, I think. I imagine this would be his dream home. Out in the woods, primitive but luxurious. Private but with people who do all the heavy lifting for you. Other than these bags. Watching him struggle up the stairs with them is making me really uneasy. The man who could throw my body over his shoulder is looking winded and tired dragging the roller suitcase up the steps.

“Just leave it, babe,” I tell him. “We don’t need it right now.”

He frowns, obviously frustrated, but I pull it from his hand and prop it up against the bannister. I can carry it myself, but right now I’m more worried about him. His walk is uneven. He’s swaying a little bit, clutching onto the bannister as I help him the rest of the way upstairs to the bedroom.

“I’m really dizzy. I think I’m carsick.”

If the circumstance was any different, I would probably belly flop right on the big lush king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Instead, I just guide him to the bed, taking his boots off for him as he strips out of his button-down shirt. He doesn’t even bother with his jeans, just curls up in the fetal position and closes his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Molly,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”