Texas Showdown. Barb Han
was a couch and matching chair in the living area nestled around a wooden coffee table that looked handmade. Barstools pushed up to the island in the kitchen must be where she ate all her meals since there wasn’t a dining table and chairs. A long, narrow table was pushed against the wall near the door with a bowl on it for miscellaneous items like car keys. There was a pair of running shoes at the door, so she still must wake before the cows to get in her morning run before work. Relief he had no right to own washed over Austin that there weren’t a pair of men’s shoes tucked next to hers. For a second, he wondered if Dr. Burt had instructed the new guy to erase his presence from her loft so as not to confuse her.
Adding to his theory was the fact that there were no other signs of a male presence in the place so far. No picture frames. No visible clothing, although he hadn’t been in the bathroom yet because they’d just left the hospital. Other than a lamp and a bowl, there was nothing on the table by the door to indicate she’d settled into the place. A few unpacked boxes had been pushed against one corner. The place was open concept so he could see the bed positioned in the middle of the bedroom space. Thankfully, the only clothes he could see so far were Maria’s.
“Did we move in here recently?” she asked, and she must’ve been watching him take in the space.
“This is your place in the city for those long nights at work,” he said without making eye contact.
She seemed satisfied with the answer or at least she didn’t press for more information.
“Did the doctor say when I can get back to work?” she asked as he made coffee.
Figures her first real worry would be about the job. He’d blame all their problems on her dedication to the FBI if he thought that would make him feel better. It wouldn’t. What rubbed him was the fact that she’d allowed the miscarriage to break up their marriage. No trying again. No talking about it. She’d grown distant, said it would never work between them, and then stopped coming home.
Austin stared at the bottom of an empty coffee cup. He filled it and then a second one with the warm brown liquid.
“You still take two sugars?” he asked, instantly realizing his mistake. He muttered a curse. He was no good at deception. Ranchers had the benefit of living an honest life. Not really a skill that would benefit him in this situation, he thought wryly.
Her brow arched as she nodded.
Austin could’ve kicked himself. This was going to be more difficult than he originally suspected. If playing house could help her avoid serious trauma, he’d do his level best no matter how dishonest he felt. He reminded himself of the tough childhood she’d had. Losing her mother in the way that she had, blaming herself in the way that she did. She carried a tough burden on her shoulders and he could do this if he really put his mind to it.
“Yeah,” she said with a concerned look on her face as she took the mug being offered.
He needed to give her a better explanation about their circumstances or risk stressing her out further.
“You’ve been working a lot,” he said, and that was partially true. “We haven’t spent much time together in the past year.”
“Oh. Okay. I sensed that something was going on,” she said, taking a sip of fresh brew and making a mewling noise. “This is amazing.”
Austin tried not to think about a similar sound that drew from her throat in the moments before she exploded around him when they made love.
“Yeah, it’s good,” was all he managed to say.
“It’s strange that I live here and yet I don’t remember this place,” she said. “I wish we could go home to the ranch.”
“It’s too far from the hospital and your doctors, remember?” he said, not wanting to read too much into the fact that the only place she remembered as home was his ranch. The doctor had said that head trauma could do strange things to a person.
One thing was certain, with the baby boom going on at the ranch, he couldn’t take her there. He wouldn’t risk all her memories crashing down around her triggered by the reason for the distance between them in the first place. The doctor had said that her brain would unlock pieces of reality as she renewed her daily routine. Anything else could be too fast, too traumatic. And Austin was certain that seeing their daughter’s nursery would release a flood.
As much as Austin didn’t like the idea of playing house at her loft, he could hang in there for a few more days. The place wasn’t exactly homey but there were enough essentials here to survive. All he really needed was a coffee maker and microwave, and she had both. Maria had never been much of a cook, which had never bothered Austin. They both knew enough to get by and had had more kitchen sex than probably any other room because of it. But great sex wasn’t the only thing he missed about her. He missed her quick wit, her sharp sense of humor, the way she’d seemed to understand him without even needing to talk. How did everything get so messed up between them? How had it come to this?
“I’m still a little unclear as to how I ended up in the hospital,” she said.
“You were jumped from behind,” he said. “And the guy caught you off guard.”
“Was I working?” she asked.
“No. You were off the clock and had stopped off to meet with friends.” Austin didn’t say that she was having a draft beer at the Midnight Cowboy on Sixth Street after meeting up with a group of people, one of which was most likely the guy she planned to marry.
“Now that I think about it, I remember working a lot of late hours,” she said, and then her gaze landed on him. He must’ve given a look without realizing it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Nothing.” He shrugged. When she wasn’t in Austin she’d brought work home to the ranch with her. Her eyes had been glued to her laptop most of the time. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her relaxed, like now, and her dedication to her work had only escalated the tension between them. “What else do you remember?”
“Not much. But I have a question. I’m married to you and all I do is work?” She’d forgotten all the tension between them, all the times he’d busted out the back door after her at the ranch, not knowing what to say or do to make his wife happy again.
Austin took in a sharp breath. Lucky her.
“Things are a little more complicated than that but we don’t have to talk about it right now,” he said.
“Why not?” she asked. “I can’t think of anything better to do.”
“It’s not important compared to what you’re going through right now.” It was the first honest thing he’d said since arriving at her place.
“Yeah, okay,” she said, looking frustrated. Her hand came up to her forehead as if trying to recall was giving her a headache.
“You have to take it easy,” he said, trying to soothe her without getting too close.
She looked up at him and half smiled. “You’re right. I’m sure it’ll come back. It’s just hard when it feels like everyone else knows things about my life that I don’t.”
The last doctor he’d spoken with at the university hospital had said that there was no physical reason for her memory loss. It was possible that her brain was suppressing anything it viewed as a difficult issue. If she saw being on the verge of finalizing their divorce as traumatic, her brain might just decide to push that into a shadow. Force it out and the ramifications could be overwhelming to her.
“Whatever’s going on between us that’s causing you stress, I want you to know that I’m sorry,” she said with so much sincerity and sadness.
His hands fisted to stop from reaching out to her, to being her comfort. How many nights had he stayed awake, starting at the ceiling, wishing one of them could open up before she’d left? The memory burned a hole in Austin’s chest.