Don't Forget Me (An Unforgettable Romance)

She grins. "Oh, so you're claiming my cunt now? What happened to the fear that I'm not old enough for you?"

"Oh, I'm still terrified of that, but–"

"But what?"

"Fuck. Can we forget breakfast and just get you to the hospital and get some answers?"

She laughs. "Fine, Smith. Let's go." She reaches for her cutoffs and puts them on. A few minutes later, we're in the car driving toward town.

"I really hope there's some answers for us," I tell her.

"Me too," she says reaching for my hand, squeezing it. "Because then we can fuck like bunnies for the rest of the day...”

"For the rest of our lives," I say with a growl as I punch the gas.

When we're checked into the hospital, I explain the situation to the nurse. A doctor arrives quickly and gives her an examination.

"Thankfully, there's no concussion," he says.

They run her fingerprints and tell us that a police officer will be here shortly.

"Thank God," I say. I kiss her forehead. I know that's probably crossing some line, but there's a cute little bandage that they placed on her scrape. And I want to make sure she feels safe.

"I'm glad you're with me," she says. "I'd hate to be here all by myself."

"I'm glad I'm here too." Then her eyes widen as the officer walks into the room, and I feel her whole body panic. She begins to shake.

"What?" I ask. That flight or fight sensation seems to rush through her. The same panic I saw right before she ran out of my cabin.

"Oh my God," she screams. "Oh my God, Ethan!"

The officer growls. "Sienna, what in the... are you doing here?"

She starts sobbing. "Smith," she says, "don't let him near me. I remember everything. I remember why I ran!"

Sienna

The memories begin to flood me, the stories of my past, my mom getting sick and dying my senior year of high school, holding her hand as I said goodbye to her in hospice, hating that my only option was to stay with my stepdad until I graduated, memories of his drinking.

He wasn't always like that, but losing my mom made him ugly in ways he hadn't been before. It's no excuse, of course, but his sorrow and grief turned to rage, and it turned into a problem that he took out on me.

Last night was one step too far. His hand on me was scary, and I didn't trust him not to break the bottle across my cheek, not to pin me against the wall and touch me in ways that didn't feel safe, and I didn't trust him. That's why I ran.

Now I remember and tears are falling down my cheeks, and Smith is here holding me, holding me close. I'm crying against his big solid chest, and he feels like safety. He feels like protection. He feels like forever.

Yes, I was all worked up in his cabin earlier this morning before he brought me here to the hospital. I was worked up for him in ways I’ve never been before – my body was hot and bothered and ready and willing, and he held back.

I touched myself in a way I never have before. Of course, I didn't know it, because I didn't have the memories of my past, but now I do.

I have all my memories and I have more than that.

I have the knowledge that my stepdad is a bad man.

I wipe at my eyes as Smith asks me again and again, "Are you okay? What do you need? I got you."

"I need another officer here," I say, because this one, Ethan Malone–

"No, no, no, no,” Ethan says, trying to cut me off. “What's going on? Sienna, calm down."

"I'm not going to calm down," I say. "Last night you scared me," I tell him. "You touched me and I thought you were going to hurt me. And I don't feel safe around you and I'm pressing charges."

Smith stands up straighter, anger boiling. I feel it. I sense it because I know him. I know him in ways that don't make sense. He is mine and I am his. And yes, we just met, but that doesn't matter.

I don't need my memory intact to know the moment my eyes landed on his... he was mine.

I smile and I take his hand, knowing whatever happens next, we'll be in this together.

After a new set of police officers take my statement, the doctor gives us clearance and Ethan is out of my sight for good. We are alone in the hospital room and I finally can breathe.

“Smith, can you handle a mess like me?”

"A mess like you? Sienna, baby, you're not a mess."

I shake my head. "I just graduated high school. I work at a kids’ camp in the summer down at the lake. I don't know what kind of woman you're expecting or wanting to be with. If you want to be with a woman like me…" I lick my lips, drop my chin. My eyes, though, they meet his.