Chapter Thirty-One

Memories—were they forgotten or hidden? Based on Dr. Young’s last words and the fact Brenden had been unable to recall events from the last two years, he chose forgotten. Was this his punishment for the life he chose to live in the Black Smoke?

Karma couldn’t be this cruel.

Brenden was desperate to have every thought, idea, and emotion returned to his mental Rolodex. For now, he was lucky he remembered his way home as he cut the steering wheel and turned onto Windrush Circle. He eased off the gas pedal, rolled his window down, and smelled the salty air. A breath of relief escaped him as his contemporary beachfront home came into view. Nostalgia swirled in, transporting him back to the time he sat sketching his beach retreat.

He had chosen stucco for its strength. The color white to be rid of the dirt and blood that stained his hands every mission. And glass to see the beauty of the ocean, because so often, the life he lived in Black 2131 was ugly and dark. From blueprint to completion, his goal was to build a place where his mind would be at peace.

The outside was still perfect, he thought, pulling into the driveway. However, he knew without a doubt everything had changed on the inside. The mental marathon he had endured since waking up in Landstuhl three weeks ago didn’t seem to have a finish line.

Brenden and the team had spent all their time holed up in Belarus at a black site reviewing every mission brief leading to Operation Jackal’s Lair. Five years of planning and executing strategy had been sabotaged. The obvious answer was a security breach among their ranks, but that was too easy. Brenden had to make sense of it all, quickly. However, the task wasn’t easy, since now there was roughly a three-year gap.

The file on Paige Nichols hadn’t given him any more clarity. In fact, it disconnected him further from the life he was literally steps from reentering. A fresh wave of anxiety rushed upon him. His heart stuttered at the mere thought of the brown-eyed beauty.

There wasn’t much that scared him, but coming face-to-face with her did.

Mainly because seeing her without remembering one single thing of her presence in his life validated his weakness and reminded him of all he had lost. Yet, per the doctor’s recommendation, being back in familiar territory was the only shot he had at recovering his lost memories.

Brenden closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and with shaky hands cut the engine to his truck. He pressed the garage door opener and instantly sighed in relief at seeing only his BMW parked inside. The pearl Volvo S60 he saw in the file his team had presented to him on Paige was nowhere in sight, which was good; he needed time to adjust, and he wasn’t ready to apologize for anything he said in Germany or offer promises of a future together.

In one fluid movement, he hopped from the truck, pulling his duffel and moved toward the garage.

“Uncle Bren!”

Brenden knew that voice. With a full-fledged smile plastered on his face, he turned and watched Katie leap from the car he apparently purchased last year. With outstretched arms, he welcomed her while peering down at her barking, four-legged companion. When Katie pulled back to look in his face, he almost broke into tears. His memory of her contradicted the young woman before him, and she looked so much like Elizabeth.

“Oh my God, Uncle Bren!” She threw her arms back around him. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” he choked out, pulling her back so he could see her face again. Before tears broke over the rims of his eyes, he turned his attention to the tail-wagging chocolate Lab. “Who’s your friend?”

“Raja’s yours.” Katie stooped down and began rubbing the dog’s head. “Well, you got her for Paige.”

Brenden’s entire body went stiff. Why hadn’t he been briefed on this detail? He told Linc and Trent to give him specific information about everything in his life relating to Paige. This shouldn’t have been a surprise.

But then he remembered. There were far more pressing issues affecting the unit he commanded and the nation’s security. Time couldn’t be wasted on minute details of a life he wasn’t sure he wanted. Not when someone was trying to off him and his team.

“I don’t remember.”

“Paige said you might have trouble remembering since the head injury.”

“What else did she tell you?” he huffed, attempting to fight the tightness taking over his body. Katie looked off. She tugged Raja’s leash and gulped hard. “Katie, answer me.” He raised his voice a little.

Her face turned red as she continued avoiding eye contact. A few seconds passed before she finally faced her uncle. “Paige doesn’t tell me much because she spends most of her time crying. She lies and blames it on pregnancy hormones, but I know it’s because she misses you. We all did, Uncle Bren. I’m really, really glad you’re back.”

“I’m here.” Brenden pulled his niece back into another hug. He guessed if she didn’t have the dog by the leash, he would be squeezed stiff.

Raja’s whimper pulled them apart. “You need help inside before I take Raja on her walk?” Katie asked.

“Uh, no.” Brenden managed to smile at his beautiful niece and her companion. Reentering this part of his life was going to be the most challenging, and he preferred to do it alone. “Make sure you pull your car all the way in the drive,” he chuckled, watching a very energetic Raja wrap the leash around his niece’s legs. “Better hurry. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Katie saluted him with a giant smile before taking off. Brenden tried hard but couldn’t hold on to the glimmer of happiness she had shared. He took another deep breath, retrieved his duffel bag, and then proceeded inside.

The minute he stepped into his house, the sweetness of plumeria and something else invaded his sense of smell. He conjured the sweetest tropical sunset as he gazed beyond the room to the view of the Gulf. His home had never smelled this way, and the abstract oil painting of jazz instruments hanging over his mantel had never before greeted him.

He dropped the duffel and began scanning the open-concept family room. To his pleasant surprise, many of the furnishings had not changed. However, an antique sideboard, artsy fireplace screen, and fresh floral arrangement did not belong. He shrugged it off and began making his way to the stairs.

Before he took the first step, he caught sight of photographs he had once stuffed in shoeboxes. The pictures were encased in unique frames and neatly arranged on the hall table that used to hold only keys. A smile spread across his face as he inventoried old, yet familiar images of him with family and friends. A ray of hope shined and gave Brenden confidence in Dr. Young’s belief that being home would stimulate repressed memories.

He then picked up an unfamiliar photograph of him running barefoot along the beach at sunset in a tuxedo while pulling the hand of a blushing bride. Paige was stunning, and he looked happy. Happier than he could’ve ever imagined. All at once, shadows dimmed his hope. His smile dissolved, setting his jaw into a hard line. His wedding was a day he should remember.

A dull ache bloomed in his chest as he set the frame down and picked up another. It only took Brenden a second to place the blueish-green church spire of Fraumṻnster shooting into the skyline and the bridge over Lake Zurich where he and Paige stood lip-locked.

Brenden closed his eyes as he lowered the photograph back to its place. “How long will you stand there watching me, Paige?” He never looked over his shoulder to acknowledge her.

“We were in Switzerland on our honeymoon.” She padded closer until he was able to feel the heat from her body. “That was the day you took me to Kunsthaus to see the Monet before we retreated to the mountains of Berner Oberland.” A smile was laced within her words. “How’d you know it was me and not Katie?”

“Your scent,” he said, almost whispering as he turned to face her. The sweet smell of jasmine infused with rose had haunted him since sniffing the fragrant bouquet on her nightgown so many days ago in Germany. “And I’m aware of our time among the Swiss, and no, I don’t remember. I read files detailing the part of my life that oddly includes you.”

“Well”—she flinched—“forgive me. It was not my intent to stand watch over you.” She turned on her heel and moved toward the stairs. “I’m just glad you’re home,” she called softly over her shoulder.

“Doesn’t feel like home.” Brenden’s declaration made her go still. Her hand dropped from her belly and in slow motion she returned to where he stood. “Doesn’t feel like home at all.” He shook his head. “Everything is different.”

“Just a few pics, new art, maybe a lamp or two, not much has changed.”

“I’m talking about you,” he said, eyes raking across her pregnant body. “Being a married man is different, and it complicates an oath I made long before you. This is not a life I ever thought I wanted.”

“I’m not leaving,” Paige said, walking up on him until they were inches apart. A determined glint formed in her eyes. “You can try to push me away, but I’m staying. Our marriage means something to me. What we have is worth fighting for, Brenden. And I will fight for you even if it hurts.” Paige rubbed her baby bump. “When the smoke clears, right?”

“Paige—”

“Don’t Paige me! You never call me by my first name. I guess those files didn’t tell you that.” She hurried away from him and ran up the stairs.

…

For the last three weeks, Paige had dreamed about the moment Brenden would return. Her mind and body longed to be with him and feel his presence in their home. So why now did it feel like her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough from where he stood? There had been no change in Brenden since they last parted ways. Not only did he not remember, it seemed he didn’t want her or their life together.

But she still wanted him. Even as Paige stepped onto the second story landing and looked down as he looked up, she knew she would never turn away from him. She couldn’t, because she loved him, and somehow she had to help Brenden rediscover the love he held for her.

Not in any condition to process logical thought, Paige ducked inside the spare bedroom being transformed into the baby’s nursery. A stuttering exhale escaped her as she hiked up her skirt and lowered down to the floor. Marriage woes faded to the background as she sat analyzing the fairy tale garden mural she was creating for her princess, Emeline.

Her hand pressed to the swell of her belly. Joy and pain battled within until a faint smile settled on her lips. Her mind drifted to that night on their honeymoon after she had returned to the cabin, still trying to accept Brenden’s confession of his deployment. Disregarding her intense silent treatment, he pulled her into his arms as they lay in bed.

He whispered, “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you why I wanted us married so soon. Now I don’t know how I can leave you.”

“You mean us,” she replied, reaching for his hand and placing it on her stomach.

His head slowly turned to look down at her belly and then he dropped kisses along her midsection. “God, Nichols, you make all my wildest dreams come true.” A full-fledged smile brightened his face.

Paige opened her eyes to blurred vision, revealing dark and muddy shades of yellow-green upon the walls. There were no longer pixies floating amid lush green foliage accented with roses and wisteria. Even the white unicorn became a blob. The fine details of the nursery mural had become coarser, more irregular, and reminded her too much of what life was now like with Brenden.

Recounting his cool words and dispassionate stare made Paige feel as though a stranger was in their house. He looked like the man who stole her heart. However, the way he looked at her was not the way Brenden ever had, especially after he had fallen to his knees and surrendered his all.

“Stop,” she said aloud to herself. She had to end the madness and break free of the prison her thoughts of Brenden trapped her in.

This was as close as she had ever come to a relapse. The mere thought of becoming the little mute girl who had watched her twin brother die set her on autopilot. She took a few deep, calming breaths then replayed the steps Dr. Russel, her childhood psychologist, would issue as art therapy began. Once Paige prepared her palette, she grabbed a paintbrush and moved to the wall. With each brushstroke against the wall, her tears dried and she separated herself further from the uncertain reality lurking on the other side of the door.

Hours later, Paige emerged from the nursery not feeling any less conflicted and still clinging to hope. Her husband was home, and he would be in their bed tonight. Sex was probably the last thing on Brenden’s mind, but the thought of their bodies once again joining created a desperate, hot ache between her legs. The longing she had for him after almost two months of being apart carried her faster to the master suite.

When she turned down the hall and came within footsteps of the door, they collided. Brenden’s long arms reached out and she latched onto him as he moved with lightning speed to prevent her fall.

“Sorry, I…my mind was somewhere else,” he said, holding her in his arms while scanning her face.

Paige swallowed hard. She should’ve been concerned with falling. Instead, she was hypnotized by the eyes that made her think of distant galaxies while trying to prevent her damn heart from erupting. His fresh showered scent, those black flames dancing along his creamy skin, and the sudden skin-to-skin contact was dizzying. She had missed this and was desperate to have it all back.

“Yeah, me too,” she responded breathlessly, clinging to his shoulders.

Once her feet were on even ground, he released her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, yes. I didn’t fall.” Her smile wasn’t returned.

“Well then, I have to be up early. I’m going to turn in, good night.” Brenden started in the opposite direction of their room.

“Wait,” Paige clasped his wrist. “Our room is the other way.”

“I know.” He eased his arm from her hold then took a step back. “I’ll be staying in one of the guest rooms. I need space and time to figure out what I want.”

A myriad of emotions cut across her face as she searched for the right words. The man kept breaking her heart. “You need space from your wife?”

“I need space to understand this life I don’t know. You should take time to decide if you want to be with a man who can’t remember you.” His face reddened and he turned away before he started walking off.

The hope she had clung to was doused in gasoline. She refused to let a match fall and swallow them in flames, so she reached out and caught his hand. Brenden would not suffer alone.

His resistance was ignored as she pulled him until they were climbing the flight of stairs up to the bonus room that had been converted into her studio. “Sometimes we can’t say or don’t know how to say what we feel. Only, it has to come out some way…before it ruins the good within.”

She directed him to take the seat at her desk. She then grabbed a large piece of paper from her sketch pad and placed it in front of Brenden, along with colored pencils, crayons, and paint. The curiosity washing over his face made her heart soar, because it meant he was willing to engage in whatever she was about to propose.

“I want you to close your eyes, Brenden. Breathe in and out, and let the out breath last longer.” She watched him close his eyes and follow her directions. “Now, do it again. This time, as you release your long breath, imagine it’s taking all the tightness from your body. And then open your eyes.”

Brenden did as she asked, then opened his beautiful eyes. They remained trained on her until she told him to pick up a colored pencil and draw a circle. As Brenden drew the circle, Paige explained that the circle was his safe space. In that safe space he was free to use colors, shapes, paint, or pencil to express his emotions.

His eyes lifted to hers. Never had she thought she would give Brenden an art therapy session. Yet, she had to try everything to help him find his way back to her.

“Let your imagination run free.”

“Does that include stick figures?” he asked, eliciting a few giggles from her that made him laugh.

“If that’s all you know how to draw. Only, I know you drew this house so…”

He nodded with a small smile floating at his lips. The paper held his attention. “Is this part of the art therapy center you’re bringing to the university?” She nodded. “And it helped you, right? I mean, that’s what I read in the brief the guys gave me.”

“Yes.” She was the one to close her eyes this time. Knowing that the men knew such intimate details about her didn’t sit well. However, she understood it was to help Brenden. “It can help you, too. I’ve not researched art therapy and memory recollection, but this will help with the many emotions you have swirling around inside.”

“What will you do with this?”

“That’s a question for you. You can use it to express your emotions and download those subconscious thoughts. I could analyze what you create, or I could do nothing. The choice is yours. I’ll leave you to figure out what you want.” And she wasn’t just talking about a drawing.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For better or worse, Brenden,” she affirmed while walking out.