“Ofeverything.”
Kyrone sucked in a breath.
“Retrograde amnesia,” Jared said as if the label would help to clarify anything for Kyrone. “My autobiographical memory is just… gone.”
Kyrone’s hand slipped from Jared’s shoulder to his back over the tattoo. “Which is why you don’t remember why you got your ink?”
Jared nodded. “And why—as sweet as you were in trying to give me a new reason behind it—all I really want is to know why I decided to get it in the first place. WhyIdesigned it.” He opened the scrapbook towards the back, flipping through a couple of pages until he reached the sketch of his tattoo.
“Couldn’t anyone tell you?” Kyrone asked. “Your family? The friends you were at uni with?”
Jared shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone from university since the accident.” He moved to the very back of the scrapbook, to where he’d slotted a multitude of cards. “I’ve got plenty of well wishes, but that’s all. The accident happened in St Andrews, but my parents had me transported back to Surrey while I was unconscious.”
“I guess they wanted you closer to home than Scotland,” Kyrone said.”
Jared nodded. “Apparently, they didn’t even know Ihada tattoo. I’m not sure why I wouldn’t have told them, because I have no clue what sort of relationship I had with them before…” His voice broke again, and he leant into Kyrone, pressing his face to his chest. “I know this is a lot,” he whispered. “I won’t be shocked if—”
“Do I have to kiss some sense back into you again?” Kyrone asked in a warning tone. “I really like you, Jared. I’m not going to walk away because you had an accident.”
Jared sat straighter. “I’ve got a serious brain injury, Ky. I’m not okay. I’m never going to be okay.”
Kyrone squeezed his hand. “Does that make you undeserving of being loved?”
Jared shook his head. “No, but I know from experience over the last few months that it freaks most guys out.”
“I’m not most guys,” Kyrone promised before kissing Jared’s lips softly. “I’m not freaking out, and I’m not running away.”
“You’re amazing,” Jared said, smiling despite his fears.
“Well, yes, but that goes without saying.”
Jared chuckled and pressed his face against Kyrone’s chest again. He knew his cheek was resting over the Adonis tattoo, which seemed oddly fitting, considering the ink was the reason they’d met. Kyrone tugged him down until they were lying on the bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. He was silent, but it was an open silence that seemed to be inviting Jared to speak if he wanted to or to remain quiet if that was what he needed.
“When I first woke up, the neurologist was optimistic that my memory loss would be temporary,” he told Kyrone. “She said it was most common for coma patients to get their memory back by the time they’d been awake, for as long as they’d been asleep.”
“But that didn’t happen?” Kyrone asked.
“No, but it gave me something to work towards in rehab. I had to get stronger so I could go back to the life I’d had before the accident.”
“What was rehab like?”
“Tiring,” Jared said with a grimace. “I was weak. My muscles didn’t really want to work. I had to learn to do a lot of things again, like walking, using a pen, even holding a knife and fork.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry.”
Jared shrugged. “It is what it is. It was hard, but I had a goal. A reason to get better. That got me through it.”
“And when your memory didn’t come back?”
“It got harder,” Jared admitted. “That magic time frame came and went, and there wasn’t even a flicker of recognition or moments of déjà vu. There was just…nothing. The neurologist stayed optimistic for a while and then had the ‘talk’ with me.”
“The ‘talk’?”
“About how I had to come to terms with the fact that I might never get my memories back.”
Kyrone brushed his chin back and forth over Jared’s hair. “And have you come to terms with that?”
“Yes,” Jared said on an outward breath. “Mostly, anyway.”
