Chapter 6

Chapter Six

When Adam woke from a sleep with mercifully no dreams or nightmares he could remember, he realized three things.

The drapes were drawn, but bright light peeked through the middle where they didn't quite meet, as if someone had opened them a little to look outside.

He was in pain to the point he could hardly move.

And lastly, that Ethan wasn't sleeping with him.

"Ethan?"

Ethan didn't reply, but Adam wasn't about to go looking for him. He had enough to think about just getting up off the bed. As he moved he saw his meds and water on the small bedside cabinet and reached for them, seeing how his hand shook and noticing the little things, like the coolness of the room making the hairs on the back of his arm stand up.

"Wait, I'll get that," Ethan said from the bathroom. He was next to Adam in an instant, helping him down the pills and sit upright. "How you feeling?"

"Like I was trampled in my sleep," Adam grouched. He couldn't help it; he wasn't used to being ill. He was physically strong and focused and capable and?—

How do I know that? How could I even know what kind of man I am?

"I'm sorry about last night," Ethan began. "Waking you up from a nightmare, when the books say you shouldn't do that."

Adam realized Ethan was talking to him, and he focused in on the words. "I don't get why they say that. I wasn't in a good place, and you pulled me out of it."

Ethan sat on the side of the bed next to him. "Still, they say you shouldn't. It probably messes with the brain or something."

Adam chuckled, immediately wishing he hadn't when his sore muscles pulled. "My brain is already fucked."

For a moment they sat there in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, but Adam sensed Ethan had something to say.

He was right.

"Last night you remembered Smoke."

So they were talking, then, about things that Adam didn't feel like discussing this early in the morning. "Breakfast," he said.

The single word hung there for a moment, and it was enough to propel Ethan to his feet.

"I found a small mall, with a clothes outlet and at least three places to get breakfast. I'll go get some?—"

"No, I'd like to go. Get some air."

Feel the April sun on my skin.

Ethan looked doubtful. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

Adam shook his head. "Probably not. I'll need help getting my sneakers on, and my fleece. And maybe a cap so I can hide my face a bit, stop people staring."

He'd slept in his sweats and T-shirt, and felt grungy, but the idea of food outweighed how shitty he felt, or how messed up he looked. He was hungry. "I should eat soon." He indicated the plastic meds bottle. "Bacon."

Ethan didn't hesitate; he knelt at Adam's feet and helped to slip on the sneakers, lacing them and then patting Adam on the knee. "Done."

Ethan stood and extended a hand, which Adam took. It was enough to get him standing and able to walk, slowly, to the bathroom.

"There's a toothbrush I got from the shop," Ethan called through the closed door.

"Thanks." He used the bathroom, washed his hands and face, brushed his teeth, and picked up the deodorant, which he assumed was Ethan's. He debated asking if he could use it, and then decided that was a pretty stupid question to consider asking. Ethan wouldn't care; he'd expect Adam to use it. Ethan was a nice guy. He always had been.

Adam steadied himself by gripping the edge of the sink, and he stared down at the water droplets collecting around the drain. There it was again—a feeling, not a memory as such, more an understanding of who Ethan was, of who he himself was.

Was this the start of things? Of everything coming back to him?

No one had posted a missing person's report. No one had flagged him as missing at all. What if the memories turned up a family of sorts?

Pain slid from temple to temple and he closed his eyes.

"You okay in there?" There was more than a little concern in Ethan's words.

"Sorry, yeah, I'm all right. Okay to use the deodorant?"

"That's yours. I got it when I got the toothbrush."

Of course you did. You never let us ? —

Adam snapped himself out of the negative thoughts, not sure where they were going. He sprayed some of the Tahitian Blue under his shirt, angling it up and getting a face full of spray.

He coughed—that hurt, so he stopped, which hurt even more as he held his breath.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror and blanched. He looked awful.

With a heartfelt sigh, he hoped to hell the headache would go, that his chest wouldn't burn, and that he could manage to get breakfast quickly enough to stop the meds making him sick.

Adam let himself out, allowed Ethan to help him on with the fleece, and waited by the door.

Ethan pocketed his cell, shrugged on his jacket, and picked up the key card. "Let's go," he said, with added enthusiasm.

Evidently Ethan had been lucky enough to have already got coffee this morning.

"I need coffee," Adam announced as they left the hotel.

"Five minutes," Ethan said with a smile. "This way." He led them across the parking lot and to the first café they saw. "This looks good."

Adam didn't care. At this point all he wanted was coffee and bacon, and it didn't matter which order they came in. They attempted to sit in a booth, but Adam couldn't quite bend himself to slide round and so they ended up at a table by the window. Coffee was quick, and a plate of steaming pancakes with bacon and syrup appeared not long after.

Adam didn't eat too fast. If the wrap thing he'd had last night had taught him one thing, it was that his stomach was still fragile.

They didn't talk much, nothing more than Ethan asking if Adam needed more syrup or coffee. The waitress buzzed around them, clearing nearby tables and generally making enough noise for the silence between the two men to stay comfortable.

"You want to get some more clothes?"

Adam looked down at the sweats he was wearing. "I suppose I need to."

"You'll be in the car. Nothing fancy, just comfortable things. We can go after that."

Silence again. Then a question occurred to Adam. "What was I wearing when I was found? I never asked."

"Jeans, a light blue tee, a sweatshirt, and a dark leather jacket."

Adam's eyes widened. "You remember all that?"

Ethan shrugged. "I remember the little details. Like there was no wallet, no ID, no loose change."

"So, it was a mugging, then? Whoever jumped me took my wallet."

"That's the theory the cops worked with, certainly."

"But not one you agree with?"

Ethan looked down at his plate and worried at the last of his bacon with his fork, his other hand flat on the table, tapping his fingers every so often. "I don't know. Nothing about this makes any sense. No one reported you missing, no one knows who you are. You have no ID."

Ethan didn't look back up at Adam, and something about that spoke volumes to him. Ethan was struggling with all of this: the lack of memories, the missing years. Cautiously he placed his hand over Ethan's. "Something will come up."

It was odd to be the one reassuring the big tough cop, but he was rewarded with the flash of a smile.

"I know."

Adam removed his hand and concentrated back on his last pancake, considering whether he should be putting an order in for another stack when Ethan's cell vibrated on the table.

"I need to take this," Ethan said in apology.

"Go for it."

The call clearly wasn't personal, because Ethan didn't leave the table, just answered it with a curt "Allens."

Allens. The word didn't sound familiar. Well, not any more familiar than any other family name he'd been exposed to over the last week. No ringing bell announced that he'd suddenly connected everything in his brain and made his synapses fire.

Nothing. Nada. Blank. Not even a connection to that vivid smoke dream.

He couldn't help but hear Ethan's side of the conversation, given they were maybe a foot apart.

"Two weeks," Ethan said in response to whomever was on the other end of the line. Adam looked up at him from under his lashes, attempting to make it as unobtrusive as he could. "I'm owed at least that."

Ethan was frowning, his gray eyes stormy. His eyes were gorgeous, an unusual dark gray-blue, and there was definitely a hint of red in his brown hair, which he kept short. Adam couldn't figure out if Ethan's stubble was designer or not, but it was neat. And sexy. His shirt was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and his jacket on the back of the chair, which meant that Adam could get a look at the base of Ethan's throat, at the glimpse of hair on his chest, and the way the shirt stretched over his lean, spare body.

There was really no doubt Adam was gay; this just proved it. The waitress with her ample good points was fussing around them, but Adam only had eyes for Ethan.

Not that Ethan had taken any kind of interest in her. He was probably used to being hit on, though, all sharp angles and sexy, come-to-bed eyes.

"I'll try. I promise. … Jeez?—"

Ethan snapped off his words and looked directly at Adam, catching him staring. Adam flushed, looking back at his plate and forking the last mouthful into his mouth.

"He's here," Ethan said. Adam glanced up at him. Whomever Ethan was talking to was talking about Adam. "I'll tell him, and no, there's no way we're doing that. I want at least another week. … Tell him to call me if it's a problem. Jen?—"

The voice on the other end was louder and Adam could hear the string of profanities.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I'm just— … Yeah. … Bye." He ended the call and placed the cell back on the table. "Work. My partner, Jennifer Young. She's covering for me and negotiating for me not being in the office."

"And that isn't going well? Do you need to get back?"

Ethan shook his head. "Fuck no, I'm owed the days. It isn't the vacation time they're worrying about, it's lack of notice and lack of cover. But, we have to get you home, and then…."

"Then what?"

"See what happens with your…." He circled his finger in the air.

"My head."

"Yeah."

"What do you think will happen? That I'll see this place, this Single Tree place, and every memory will magically reappear in the right order?" He wanted to hope that it would, so much, but nothing made him more nervous than hope.

What? Where did that come from?

"It's Crooked Tree," Ethan corrected him.

"Sorry?"

"You said Single Tree. It's actually Crooked Tree."

"Is there one?"

"One what?"

"A crooked tree?"

"Oh." Ethan tilted his head. "Yes, it was actually struck by lightning, and it split into two, and the parts kind of twined and tilted. We used to…. Nothing."

Adam was getting sick of people not finishing sentences around him when it came to his memories. No, that wasn't right, he was getting sick of Ethan doing it, as if Adam was something brittle that would snap if he wasn't handled the right way. "Go on, finish the sentence."

"They said in the hospital to be careful."

Adam sat back in his chair a little. "Well, that's going to make for a very dull road trip. What did we do with the tree? Climb it? Did I used to climb trees?"

"We all did. Only, it hangs out over the water, the river, and when Justin was—" He screwed his face up in thought. "—eleven, maybe? He fell out of it, cracked his head, so Dad put fencing up to stop us getting in."

"It didn't keep us out, did it?"

"Nope. Me, Nate, and Cole, we'd all grown some over the summer and could easily get over the fencing, and one of us would hoist you over. It was like a boys' club, the five of us. Then Gabe got big enough, and he was added as well."

"And Cole is my brother; that is what you said. Older than me, I assume, and he's in the Navy."

"He was married, to a girl called Mary. She lived in town and they were sweethearts, married young. It didn't last long, and he joined up pretty much as his marriage broke down."

Adam felt compassion and wondered if it was at the story or at the fact it was his brother at the center of it. "Are we close? Were we close, I mean."

Ethan did that shrug thing again, the one where he'd evidently decided not to impart all the secrets in one day. "Close enough," he said carefully.

"We hated each other, I get it," Adam joked, taken aback when Ethan winced.

"Not so much. You just had a home life that meant you spent a lot of time at ours with Justin, or in the summer camping out at the Nine."

There was a lot of loaded information in that sentence, but from Ethan's closed expression, Adam knew he wasn't getting answers anytime soon. Instead he focused on the things he could ask about. "What is the Nine?"

"Eastern part of Crooked Tree, mostly trees, up into the mountain. Stunning place."

The waitress came over, hips swinging and a broad smile on her face. "Can I get you two handsome young men anything else?"

They'd already had the "oh my goodness, have you been in an accident?" conversation with the waitress, and she'd handled it like a pro when he said he'd been mugged. She was a good waitress, and Adam didn't want to be rude and say that he was exhausted and needed to sleep.

I'm a gentleman , he decided.

"Just the check, please," Ethan said quickly, a frown creasing his brow.

Was he pissed that the waitress was being flirty? Or angry because Adam was asking questions about the ranch?

"One last top-up on the coffee," Adam said firmly.

She looked a little hurt at Ethan's tone, and for some reason that made Adam feel defensive of the poor woman. So he gave her what he imagined was his best smile, and she winked at him. She topped up the coffee and walked back to the register.

"We need to go," Ethan said.

"Just one more coffee."

Ethan sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at Adam, enough that Adam dropped his gaze. Something about the way Ethan was looking at him, as if he was about to ask a million questions, made Adam want to get up and leave.

His coffee was topped up.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, sugar. You take care now," the waitress said and dropped the check on the table.

"So," he began carefully, "why was my home life interesting?"

Ethan sighed and stood at the same time. "Finish your coffee. We'll talk in the car."

By the time they made it back to the room, Adam was yawning again. Fucking meds might take the edge off the raw pain but left him feeling as if he couldn't achieve a damn thing.

I'm not used to this sitting around doing a fuck lot of nothing , he thought. I know somehow that the job I have, the thing I do, is physical.

"Are you okay?"

Ethan's voice jerked him from his internal commentary. He'd stopped dead in the middle of the foyer, right in front of the reception desk.

"Adam?" Ethan asked again. He cupped Adam's elbow and tugged him away from the desk where Moira, as her badge confirmed, was staring at them.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

Ethan ignored the woman, and Adam didn't have the energy to even answer. He allowed Ethan to help him through the door marked "Rooms," and sagged a little into his hold as soon as they were out of sight of anyone.

"What happened?" Ethan asked.

"I don't know." Adam yanked his elbow free, the momentum making him wobble dangerously. He reached out to the wall of the corridor and leaned there.

"Was it a memory?" Ethan pushed for an answer.

"Another f-f-feeling." Adam was shaky, his chest tight, his breath catching there. "Like… I knew where I was."

"What do you mean?" Ethan stepped in close, one hand on Adam's bicep, the other cradling his face. "Talk to me, Adam."

Adam stared at the man who knew him better than he knew himself, the one with the memories of Adam as a kid, as a teenager. The man who was demanding that Adam string a sentence together, and all Adam could do was stand there and stare into his eyes.

They were darker in the hallway light, the gray of them stormy, and Adam recognized fear in them.

"Wherever I work, it's physical," Adam said. He tilted his head a little, pressing his face into Ethan's hand, and closed his eyes. He could stay like this all day, with Ethan holding him, embracing him, helping him. "I don't remember anything else."

"Okay," Ethan murmured. "Let's get packed up and on the road. Yeah?"

Adam nodded, finally opening his eyes and catching a glimpse of compassion in Ethan's expression. Unbidden, the need to explain his fears and thank Ethan rose up in a wave of words. "Thank you, for knowing who I am, and for getting me out of the hospital, and for driving so far to get me to a safe place where I can try to remember."

Ethan quirked a tiny smile. "You're welcome."

"Can I ask you one thing?"

"Go on."

"If people come to me and tell me they knew me in the time after I went missing, can you stay with me when they want to see me? Will you promise you'll be there for me?"

Ethan's jaw tightened, and then in a smooth move, he pressed a quick kiss to Adam's forehead. "Always."

They picked up what they needed from the room. Once back in the car, Adam allowed his body to give in, unable to stop the sleep from happening. That was what the meds did; they relaxed him, helped the pain and left him floating in a peaceful world of cotton clouds and warmth.

Only this time, his dreams became more.

This time there were horses.

And fire.