“Oh.” She felt a keen sense of loss, even though she had no memory of it. Of its own volition, one hand went to the base of her throat. “What did it look like?”
“A lot like the one Shayla wears,” Rob mumbled into her hair. “I got it for you because you loved hers so much. I promise I’m going to get you another one, sweetheart. I will get you another one.”
Her eyes squeezed closed. “He took everything from me. And that, too. How much more, Rob? How much more did he steal from us?”
His embrace felt like a safe harbor in which she could hide from the swirling vortex of a storm she found herself trapped in. “He can’t take our love, Laura. That’s ours, and ours alone.”
The idle thought crossed her mind that she wished she knew whether she was a religious person or not, and if she found comfort in prayer.
Rob wanted to spend the night there with her and knew he couldn’t. He had to go home and take care of Doogie, for starters.
And she needed time alone to process the day.
As he drove through the darkness his mind drifted. To the last time they’d made love.
He never imagined as he’d held her wrists pinned over her head, her legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly thrust, patiently waiting for her to come first, that it might be the last time in a long time.
Their bodies fit perfectly together. As if made to be together. Despite his profession he never dreamed a future without her was something he might have to contemplate this soon.
He could still envision the unfocused look in her eyes, the way her lower lip caught under her teeth, hear her soft gasps at the bottom of every stroke as his cock filled her and he bumped against her clit.
The way she felt when she came, her cries of pleasure as he hurried to catch up and join her.
Nothing had ever felt as right in his life as loving her. Making love to her.
Owning her.
And now…
Now their entire future was a huge, murky if instead of the certainty he’d known not even a week before.
And seeing her battered face, even if she did get her memory back, could he ever bring himself to lay a hand on her again? Even when, before, she would sometimes playfully beg for her daily spanking? When, before, she would tease him if he didn’t leave bruises on her ass after a scene?
Doogie eagerly awaited his return. He walked the dog before stripping and stepping into the shower in an attempt to relax.
Closing his eyes, he turned his face into the stinging spray. Even here held countless memories. Of pushing her up against the wall and fucking her brains out while she begged for more. Or fisting her hair while she gave him a blow job.
Everywhere lay memories of not only her and their love, but of their dynamic. The plastic storage bins of toys and implements under the bed, and his rolling black suitcase in the closet that held rope and implements and other toys and went with them to the club. The tube of lube on the bathroom counter for when he decided to fuck her ass in the shower.
The bottle of soap under the bathroom sink they used to clean their toys.
The matching black leather leash and collar in the bedside table that had never been around Doogie’s neck, and yet were well used. Along with several wooden spoons and bamboo spatulas that would never be used in the kitchen.
Not for cooking, at least.
I just want her back. However I can have her, I just want her back.
Chapter Six
The next morning, Laura woke shortly after six, before rounds started, and managed to get out of bed and make it to the bathroom without assistance. Idle thoughts played through her mind. One of them, she wondered if she was normally a morning person or a night owl.
Once dressed in clothes Rob had brought for her the day before, she stood staring out her window at the parking lot. Apparently her room faced north. It looked like the sun was coming up to her right, and this side of the building remained cast in shadows.
When she closed her eyes, a mental image of early mornings spent on a boat, on open water, came to mind. Trying to catch the slippery tail end of those memories is what occupied her thoughts when she heard a knock on her door.
She turned as the deputy assigned to morning guard duty stuck her head in. “The hospital chaplain is here and wanted to know if you’d like him to come in.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Do you want me to come in with him?”
Laura shook her head. “No. I think I’ll be all right, but thank you.” It hadn’t taken Laura long to process that uniformed deputies were safe. And to look for name tags on anyone wearing medical uniforms or scrubs. As long as a man fit in those two categories, she forced herself to stay calm.
And Rob. And, after last night, Tony.
Chaplain Ben Pelletier was an older man, with a kind and gentle face mirrored on the official hospital ID he wore clipped to his shirt pocket. Laura felt at ease right away as he sat in a chair next to her bed.
“I know it’s early, but they said you were awake so I figured I’d stop by. Nancy Russell suggested maybe I should come talk to you. See if you wanted a friendly ear.”
“I have to be honest with you, Father. I don’t know what religion I was, if any.”
He laughed. “I’m not a priest. You can call me Ben, or Pastor Ben, if it makes you feel better. I think my wife wouldn’t like it if I was a priest.”
He got her laughing, which hurt her ribs but felt good to her soul. He stayed, talking with her all during morning rounds and breakfast, chatting, exuding gentle patience while she quizzed him about local places and events, hoping anything would jog her memory.
Eventually, he turned serious. “I’m also a counselor, if you feel you need to talk to someone. It’s not uncommon for people who’ve been through serious trauma to develop post-traumatic stress disorder. Sometimes it doesn’t show up right away. In your case, you’ve got other things to focus on right now. It could catch you by surprise.”
“All I care about is getting my memory back.” She thought about Rob, about Carol, about the pictures they’d both shown her.
About Tony and Shayla.
She sensed Rob held something back, but didn’t know what. That feeling conflicted with the innate sense of trust she had when she thought about him.
“And what if it doesn’t come back?” he asked. “That’s a possibility, and one you should consider. In that case, you really should talk to someone about it.”
She frowned. “I will get my memory back. Most of it, at least. I know I will.” Although she didn’t know, not for sure.
Yet a stubborn tenacity rolled through her. Not getting her life back wasn’t an acceptable option to her.
“If nothing else, you might want to go for Rob’s sake.” Her surprise must have shown, because he smiled. “I know him from here at the hospital. He’s a good man. Very devoted to you. If you have any doubts about him—”
“I don’t.” Now that she said it, she realized she felt it. Truly felt it.
Still, little niggling things. Not about her love and trust for Rob, but…something.
Nothing that she felt like verbalizing to the chaplain, at least.
Shortly after breakfast, Rob walked in the door. “Hi,” the pastor said. “I’ll get out of your hair. We were just having a chat.” He reached out and gently squeezed Laura’s hand. “Would you like me to come back tomorrow?”
She nodded. “That’s fine.” He was nice to talk to, and unlike the medical staff, he apparently had the freedom to sit and relax with her. She didn’t feel like he was rushed, or like she was holding him up from other duties.