Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

BEAN

The first thing I did every morning when I woke up was a self-scan. I’d lie on my back in bed with my eyes closed and mentally check in with every part of my body, top to bottom. Where was I feeling discomfort or pain? Were there any areas I couldn’t connect to? Was I unconsciously tight somewhere?

When one of my doctors had recommended it, I’d thought it was a load of new-age nonsense. My parents definitely would’ve condemned it, but they were convinced anything that wasn’t cold, hard medicine was the devil’s work. Something about opening up your brain to Satan. Heck if I’d ever understood that.

The thing was that it had helped me become more aware of what was happening in my body, which was crucial for someone with my injury. If I felt even an inkling of a headache, for example, I knew I had to be prepared for a rough day, as that could literally explode into the world’s worst migraine within an hour.

Tightness in my shoulders meant I was stressed, as I tended to pull them up when I was. A sore jaw indicated I’d been grinding my teeth in my sleep. The list went on and on, but it helped me big time. The outcome of the self-scan was the first thing I wrote in my book every day.

Luckily, today, I felt good. Very good, in fact. No headaches, no discomforts, no pain. Yay! Fingers crossed for a good day.

A quick check of my schedule reminded me it would be a long day. Good thing, then, that I was feeling fine, right?

I changed into my uniform, which consisted of blue-and-white checkered pants and a dark-blue T-shirt with Eddie’s Bar on it. The required safety shoes were hideous, but I had to admit they did the job, as the floor was greasy as could be by the end of each shift, yet I never slipped.

The drive over would’ve been routine by now for anyone else, but I set my navigation anyway. That way, I'd be fine if I lost track halfway through. Just before I pulled out of the driveway, my phone dinged with a reminder.

Oh right, I had to stop by the store first and pick up that order Jordan had texted me about it. He’d forgotten to get a few things, so he’d done an extra order for me to pick up. I changed the navigation to the store and then headed out.

It felt good to have a job, even if I was still a little uncertain if I was fully qualified. Jordan wasn’t a professional chef either, though he’d spent his last two years in the Navy cooking. He’d called himself a Casey Ryback, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. It was probably some kind of pop culture reference I didn’t recognize, courtesy of my strict upbringing with zero movies and music—other than worship, of course.

Also, why on earth did I have no issues remembering a fictional name like Casey Ryback, but I couldn’t recall what my mystery bear looked like? So unfair.

I picked up the order and headed to Eddie’s. Checklists were my saving grace, and Jordan had taken the time to sit down with me and make checklists for everything I had to do in a shift. I’d printed and laminated them, sticking them to the door of the big walk-in fridge. Now, all I had to do was check off each thing with an erasable marker, and I’d be good. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

And so I got to work, doing one thing at a time like Jordan had taught me. I was the only cook on shift, but I did have help from Andre, who was bussing and doing the dishes. Fish tacos were now on the menu, and they were popular, which made me happy and proud. I’d made them so often by now that I didn’t need a recipe anymore.

“I need fifteen minutes to catch up on orders,” I told Zayd in the middle of the lunch rush. That, too, was something we had agreed on. It meant he’d hold off on taking new food orders until I had caught up so I wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

“No problem,” Zayd said. “Let me know when you’re able to take new orders.”

Gratitude filled me. “Thank you.”

I worked steadily on the orders until I had no more backlog, then signaled to Zayd I was ready for more. After two, things died down a little, only to pick up again around five. My phone alarms went off every three hours, and I dutifully ate something, even though I wasn’t hungry. Ten years in the Army had taught me to eat when I could, regardless of whether I was hungry. Same with sleeping and using the bathroom. You did it when you had the opportunity.

By the time eight rolled around, I was exhausted but also exhilarated that I’d done it. I’d survived an eight-hour shift, and I hadn’t even made that many mistakes. Two burgers had been sent back because I’d put cheese on them when they’d asked for no cheese, and one person had complained their salmon was overcooked. Whatever.

“Thanks, Andre.” I slapped the nineteen-year-old on his back. “Good job keeping up.”

He beamed at me. “Thanks, Bean. I like working with you.”

“I like working with you too.”

I loved that Zayd employed people who wouldn’t easily get a chance anywhere else. There was me and Jordan, who suffered from severe PTSD, he’d told me. And Andre had Down syndrome, but he was a hard worker who did everything with an infectious smile. Sometimes, he got a little overwhelmed, but then one of us jumped in to help him get back on track. No big deal.

“I’m gonna eat something before I head home,” I told Zayd. “Made myself some seafood pasta with leftover shrimp and salmon.”

“Sounds good. Get some rest, dude. You worked hard.”

I found a quiet spot in the back of the bar, where it was a little darker and the music wasn’t as loud. With a sigh of relief, I put my bowl of pasta and can of Coke on the table and sat down. Thank goodness that was over.

When I checked my phone, I saw a text from Jordan. He’d texted a picture of a frumpy, red baby that still had her eyes closed.

Meet Geraldine Mary, a.k.a. Gemma. Seven pounds and one ounce!

I sent an immediate text back:

She’s adorable! Congratulations to you and your family.

Not gonna lie, that baby was far from adorable, but this was one of those occasions where a white lie was completely acceptable. Growing up, my mom had often taken me and my siblings to visit church members who’d had a new baby. She’d taught us that adorable and cute were the right things to say, and if a baby was truly ugly as sin, she’d call it sweet. “Oh, such a sweet baby,” she’d coo.

I guessed God didn’t judge those kinds of lies? I’d never been able to figure that one out.

I scrolled through a news app as I ate my pasta, which had come out very well despite it being a quickly thrown-together kind of thing. It could use a little more lemon juice, but other than that, it was nice.

“Is this seat taken?”

The guy who had addressed me was cute, with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. Another silver fox. Hmm, I guessed I really did have a type then, as he was a bear too. A gorgeous bear, in fact. Hopefully, this time I could play it a little smoother?

I gently pulled back the chair he’d pointed at. “It’s not, so please join me.”

He frowned for a moment but then flashed a smile at me as he took his seat. “Fancy meeting you here.”

What was he referring to? It felt like I was missing something, but that had to be me. Maybe that was a classic pickup line. It wasn’t like I would know. “It’s a nice bar, right?”

Another frown. Was I doing something wrong? “It is.”

“Can I get you a drink?”

He pointed at my empty plate. “That depends on whether you were done eating or…if you’d be interested in a…dessert.”

Oh, he was direct, wasn’t he? That made things easier though. “If you’re the dessert, then yes. I’d be interested in that.”

The smile he shot me went straight to my balls. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Ah, good. “I live pretty far away, so would your place be an option?”

His frown was back but deeper than before. “Okay, this is getting a little too weird for me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were interested in…hooking up.” I was totally proud of how sort of easy that word had come out of my mouth. “Did I misunderstand?”

“You’re seriously asking me where I live?”

“Well, yeah? I’ll need an address to text to a friend. I’m Bean, by the way.”

“Cut the act, Bean. You’re freaking me out.”

Cut the act? What was he…? It clicked. “You’re my mystery bear.”

“Come again?”

I slapped my forehead as heat flooded my cheeks. “We hooked up two weeks ago.”

“Yeah, we did. And considering you told me it was your first time with a guy, I would’ve thought it was a little more memorable, or was that an act too? Just like you pretended not to know me just now?” He rose from his seat, but I grabbed his hand.

“Let me explain. Please.”

“There’s an explanation? ’Cause for a moment, I thought you maybe had an identical twin or something, but then you said your name, and I sure as fuck remember that.”

“No identical twin. I do have brain damage, however. A traumatic brain injury, which has impacted my short-term memory. I don’t…” I swallowed. “I don’t remember you. Not your face, I mean. Or your name, though in all fairness, I forgot that two seconds after you told me. I remember what we did and how you made me feel, but I’m not good with faces.”

His face softened. “A brain injury? For real?”

I nodded. “Did I tell you I was in the Army?”

“You did. Ordnance specialist.”

He’d paid attention then. Which made me feel even worse that I hadn’t recognized him. “Right. Well, there was an accident, and some ordnance exploded, injuring two of my friends and me. I was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury.”

His face showed shock. “How awful. It sounds like you should count yourself lucky you survived.”

I did, but on my bad days, I couldn’t help but wonder sometimes if it was worth it. Wasn’t living like this like living half a life? I’d never be like everyone else. But on my good days, I realized that, of course, it was. A half-life was still a life, and I was blessed with amazing brothers who had my back through it all. “I was extremely lucky, thanks to a buddy who dove on top of me. But that’s why I don’t remember you… I’m sorry. I really am. I know it sounds like a bad soap series, or so I’m told, since I never watched those. But Tameron, my friend, mentioned that a few times. That it’s like a bad, melodramatic amnesia storyline in a soap series. Except it’s real. Unfortunately. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t.”

He studied me, those blue eyes scrutinizing my expression. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and extended his hand. “I’m Jarek.”

Jarek. I shook his hand, then immediately reached for my black book. “Let me write that down this time.”

“That’s the black book you were asking for?”

I blinked at him. “Sorry?”

“After we hooked up, you asked me to get this, but it wasn’t in your pocket.”

“Oh, right. I’d left it here, but someone found it and gave it to Zayd.”

“You’re a regular here? ’Cause I came back a few times but didn’t see you. Maybe my timing was off?”

He’d come back to see me? Or was I reading too much into that? “I work here. So I have been here a lot but in the kitchen.”

“Ah, okay.”

He leaned in as I scribbled his name in my book. Jarek. It was a beautiful name. I added mystery bear hookup and wrote down his address.

“Mystery bear?”

I chuckled self-consciously. “That’s what I’ve called you in my head because I couldn’t remember your name. I did recall your body, hence the name.”

He snorted. “Not sure if I should be offended or flattered that you remembered my body but not my face.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for either, and I truly am sorry. Anything I don’t write down disappears from my brain.”

“I thought I was going mad when you acted like we’d never met before.” He laughed, scratching his chin. “Not gonna lie, for a moment, I thought it had been so forgettable that you’d completely deleted me from your memory.”

“Well, I had, but not on purpose. Look at it this way: I said yes to hooking up with you again, so technically, I chose you twice. That’s a compliment, right?”

He threw his head back and laughed, a full-out laugh that had me chuckling along with him. My belly fluttered at that beautiful sight, and quite a few heads turned in our direction. “That’s a compliment for sure,” Jarek said when he’d composed himself again. “And coincidentally, it’s also a great pickup line. If you’re still interested.”

“In dessert? Very much so. Let me text Nash.”

“Nash?”

“He’s my… He was my first sergeant, but now he’s my roommate. Or I’m his, as it’s his house we all live in.”

“You all? How many are there?”

“Four of us, so Nash and then Creek, Tameron, and me. Nash is kinda like our big brother. He looks out for us, and for me especially since my brain is so unreliable.”

I sent Nash a quick text.

Found my mystery bear. His name is Jarek. Hooking up again. Same address. See you later.

Then I put my phone and black book away and met Jarek’s eyes. “Let’s do this. Again.”