J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forget

“You’re there; now push through. Follow my voice, Gia.”

I listen, close my eyes, and focus on his voice.

“Remember me. Remember.”

I remember.

“Now fight!”

My muscles tense. A tremor starts in my gut and coils with power. I crouch.

I remember you, Rex.

A final thrust from deep within and a guttural roar, and I burst free into bright light. My throat burns. Arms close in tight around me.

“Yes, baby. Fuck yeah, you did it.” His face is buried in my neck; all I can see is his dark hair and feel his breath against my ear. “God, yes! You did it.”

I’m weak and can’t move. I try to talk, but something blocks my words. I try to rip it out. Women dressed in blue scrubs rush into the room. Rex pulls back, tears spilling from his tired eyes. They take something from my mouth. I cringe at the release and gasp for air.

Exhausted, I push two words from my throat. The only two words that matter.

“I remember.”

Mac

A few nurses busy themselves in a flurry around my hospital bed. Anxiety picks at my nerves. I tuck my feet in close and curl around my clasped hands. I’m burrowed into Rex’s side; the only thing keeping me together is the strength of his arms wrapped tightly around me.

Why am I here? Disoriented, I want to close my eyes and pray this away, wake up in Rex’s bed, wrapped in his embrace.

A nurse reaches for my arm.

I jerk away. “Don’t let them tie me down.” My throat is raw, and I can barely hear myself over the commotion in the room.

But Rex hears me. His arms convulse around my shoulders, and he tucks me tighter into his side.

“Listen to me closely.” He speaks into my temple, allowing me to feel his words against my skin. “I won’t let anyone do a damn thing you’re not one-hundred-percent comfortable with.” He nuzzles my hair. “Nod if you understand me.”

I nod and squeeze in tight to bury my face in his chest.

He’s right. I can tell by the layout of the room I’m at a hospital meant to care for people, not the kind that locks people up, binds them with restraints, and drugs them all in the name of their best interests.

“They need to take out your IV.” He pulls my arm away from my body for the nurse but keeps his grasp firmly around my bicep, reminding me that he’s here and in control.

I’m shaking so badly that even my insides feel as if they’re quivering. My gaze darts around the room, leery of every uniform. Getting the hell out of the dark was all I wanted, but waking up in a hospital makes me long for the safety of my concrete prison.

Rex leans in and presses his lips to my head. “Talk to me, baby.”

A young nurse fumbles at my arm. Her eyes slide to mine, and she smiles like she knows me. I blink and bury my face back into Rex’s chest as she removes tape and slides the tube from my vein.

The sterile smell of antiseptic and the muted green walls make my body ache with the urge to run. If they pull out a syringe or a tie down . . . I can’t. I have to get out of here.

The nurse replaces the IV with a cotton ball and a strip of tape. “Georgia can—”

“That’s not my name.” My cheeks heat at my reflexive reaction. But it’s true.

Georgia’s dead. I’m Mac.

A tendril of red hair falls into my eyes. Slowly, I pull at the bright locks and loop them around my finger. Visions of my fight with Rex flash before my eyes. I suck in a breath and a whimper pushes up my throat.

I left Vegas. Mac’s dead.

The bar, Hatchet, the Motorcycle Club. Oh my God, the drugs. My breath picks up its pace to match my racing heart. Hatch left. I was so sick and . . .

I died. Annie died on Hatch’s bed.

The nurse swings her gaze to Rex, questioning, then looks back at me. “Honey, do you remember your name? Can you tell us who you are?”

“I’m not that girl.” Georgia, Mac, Annie, none of them. “I’m not.” I shake my head, earning another sympathetic look from the nurse.

If I’m not them, who am I?

Rex clears his throat. “Would it be all right if we have a minute alone?”

The nurse’s eyes snap to Rex, wide with surprise.

“All the people in here are making her uncomfortable. She’s been through a lot, and I need to make sure she’s okay.”

They stare at him, hands frozen mid-task. One of them, a tall brunette with kind eyes, steps up to the monitor at my bedside. “Her vitals look good. We can come back later and run some tests.” She nods to the others, and they all file out of the room.

At the sound of the door shutting behind them, my lungs release their death grip and I take a full breath. “I want to go ho—um . . .” I don’t have a home.

His hand, warm and comforting, cups my jaw. I gaze up into his soft blue eyes, so clear I notice right away the old shadows that used to be there are gone.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve missed your eyes.” He kisses the tip of my nose, further relaxing my tense muscles. “I’m going to take you home. As soon as they give you the okay, we’re out of here.”

Home. Back to Vegas.

I shake my head. “But you kicked me out. I remember, Rex. You said you’d forget me. You called me . . .” Liar. Manipulator. Selfish. The pain of his words thunder in my ears. “Why are you here?”

He looks me in the eyes. “Simple. I was wrong.”

“But—”

“You tried to explain, but I was so wrapped up in the memories.” He sighs long and heavy. “I didn’t handle it the way I should have and I’m so, so sorry.”

“How did you know I was here? Did you talk to Hatch?” A sick swell of hope rises in my chest at the prospect that Hatch is okay, that he sought out Rex for me.

His jaw locks down, eyebrows dropping low over tight glaring eyes. “No. Hatch is gone, but thankfully the tubby fuck had enough sense to spill his guts to Trix before he disappeared.”

My head spins with information, piecing together everything he’s telling me. The only thing that I can grab on to is that Rex wants to take me home to Vegas. The details about the rest can be figured out later.

I pull the hospital blanket up to my chin with shaking hands. “I just . . . I want to get out of here.”

“I want to get you out of here.” He cups my cheek and tilts my face up. “I know why you’re afraid of hospitals.”

“You do?”

His thumb glides along my lower lip, the touch so gentle and full of meaning it drops my eyelids. “Yeah, apparently Dominick kept impeccable records of the lives he ruined. Raven inherited all his shit. She’s hell bent on righting his wrongs and remembered your name.”

“How?”

“In a file from Ridley Mental Institution, there was a picture in there from the day you were checked in.” He squeezes my hand. “That picture . . . I knew right away it was you.”

My pulse races; fear that he thinks I’m a certifiable lunatic claws at me. “I’m not crazy.”

Sympathetic eyes find mine. “Yeah, I know. I want to know how you ended up there, but those details can wait. First, we need to focus on getting you cleared for discharge. Problem is, baby, they’re not going to let you leave if you can’t tell them your name.”

“Right.” I messed up. I should’ve just answered to Georgia.

“Talk to me. I can’t help if I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

I shake my head. “I can’t tell them. Doctors don’t understand.” I lean in to whisper. “They call me crazy, but they don’t know what it’s like.”

“Explain it to me.”

“I was born Georgia McIntyre, but then”—I tilt my head and stare into his eyes—“you died. She died with you.”

He turns away and the muscle in his jaw ticks.

“In the institution, they called me by my last name. I was McIntyre. I escaped into the simplicity of Mac. She was focused on revenge and she gave me a purpose.”

“Revenge against Morretti.”

“Yes. My parents worked for him and when they ran—”

“Ran from the cops? Why’d they call them in the first place?”

“They didn’t.” My mind races back to that night, the fear of my punishment was nothing compared to the agony of watching him die. “I called 911.”

He sucks back a quick breath. “You called?”

I shrug, not ready to hear the gratitude in his voice. “After the ambulance took you away, my parents panicked. They thought you’d talk, and it wasn’t jail they were afraid of. It was Dominick. They ran.”

“What about you? Who took care of you?”

I pick at the hem of my hospital gown. This was the story I’d begged him to give me a chance to tell before he gave up on me. Will he understand if I tell him now?

“They locked me in the closet. I don’t know how long I’d been in there before Dominick got me out.” I thought he was there to save me. Wrong. “He said my parents were dead and he was my legal guardian. I screamed that he needed to help me, told him what they’d done to you, but he said I was crazy. He’s the one who locked me up in the institution.” The helplessness comes rushing back, screaming the truth until I’d lose my voice or they’d strap me down and shove a needle in my arm.

“Son of a bitch!” His body tenses against mine. “How did you get out?”

“I turned eighteen, realized that I’d never be free unless I played their game. I told them I was lying, that I was an angry kid because my parents abandoned me. In time, I convinced them I was sane enough for release. I went looking for Dominick. Found out he owned a strip club in Vegas. By the time I got close enough, I was too late.”