I took a deep breath, exhaled, and grabbed the book the hospital psychologist had given me:
BRINGING THEM BACK: AMNESIA AND HOW TO OVERCOME IT
I flicked through the introduction and got comfortable reading the other chapters.
The book was very thorough and went into the earliest cases of amnesia in human history.
But the parts that really caught my interest were the activity sections at the end of each chapter.
I studied them carefully and memorized them.
The book pointed out it is best not to stress the patient out and that activities should take place while they’re calm and collected.
And how much calmer and collected could someone be than if they didn’t even know they were performing the activities? I thought.
I got to my feet and felt a fresh sense of purpose.
I had put myself in this position but I didn’t need to be a victim of it.
I would take charge and help Clint to the best of my ability.
I didn’t put the book down until I had consumed every word of it and made notes on how I was going to use the information.
Then he would remember everything and continue with his life.
And I could continue with mine.
We couldn’t have asked for better weather.
The sky was blue and wispy white clouds made slow but continuous progress across it.
The barnyard animals approached us from the other side of the fence, raising their noses for the breakfast we usually gave them at this time.
I cast a shy glance at Clint who seemed taken with the animals.
Maybe they reminded him of something already.
The book suggested I expose him to one object at a time so they might jog his memory, and once one synapse fired, it was much easier for another to do the same until the entire fire was ablaze.
It reminded me of restarting a computer so all the systems would come online at once.
When I asked Clint if he wanted to go for a walk, he leaped at the chance.
He dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt with “Cowabunga!” written across the middle.
Once again, I was taken aback by his height and powerful muscular frame.
He towered over me in the narrow corridor and I normally would have shied away from someone so big, but with him…
I don’t know.
I wasn’t cowed at all.
I motioned for him to head down the stairs and couldn’t help but let my eyes drift down to the perfect swell of his ass.
Wow.
I imagined it tensing rapidly as he drove his cock deeper inside me…
I growled and shook my head.
Hussy!
Control yourself!
Flustered, I focused on everything but his amazing ass.
I found myself thinking of it even if I wasn’t looking directly at it any longer.
Clint pressed his hand to the screen door.
“Hold up a sec,” I said. “It’s hot out there. Here. Wear this.”
I handed him one of my pop’s old stetsons.
It fit perfectly and I instinctively tucked his long hair out of his eyes.
His golden eyes.
My hand froze and I gasped.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed them before.
But then again, I hadn’t seen them caught by bright sunshine before either.
There was nothing common about those eyes.
They were rich, the color of liquid caramel, and glinted like dropped diamonds.
I’d never seen such eyes.
“Is something wrong?” he said.
I blinked awake and hastily pulled my hand back.
“Uh, no. I, uh, just thought I saw something.”
“What?”
“I… thought something was in your eye.”
There was.
Me.
“We’re just going for a walk!” I called out to my mom, who could always be found in the kitchen cooking one thing or another.
“Okay!” she called out.
The screen door squeaked open and banged shut behind us.
A breath of wind caught the dust and swirled it in a mini-cyclone before bringing it back down on the animals in their individual pens.
I took the lead and led him down the steps.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked.
“Been my home since forever. Until I moved away, anyway.”
“It must have been nice growing up on a farm.”
“Yes, I suppose it was. You grew up in the city?”
I fingered the thread and pulled gently, hoping it might help him recall something.
“I’m not sure. I know what barnyard animals look like but I couldn’t tell you what the names of these are.”
Okay, so that took me by surprise.
The book said he should have access to all the knowledge he gained throughout his life, including what he learned as a kid, and which kid didn’t learn about common farmyard animals like these?
I frowned.
The only other possibility was that the amnesia he was suffering from was worse than the doctors feared.
It meant he might have suffered some kind of brain damage.
But what made me the great expert?
I’d only read one book on the subject!
There was no need for me to make a mountain out of a molehill.
“What animals can you remember?”
“Not ones like this.”
“So what do they look like?”
He pursed his lips for a moment in thought.
“There was one with a horn coming out of the center of its head, curved upward, and it dances to attract the attention of its mate.”
“I’m not sure about the dancing part but it sounds like you’re describing a rhino.”
“A rhino?”
“It’s an animal in Africa. They’re big lumbering beasts with thick skin.”
“Are they pink with purple spots?”
“Uh…”
My joviality at discovering his memory coming back to him took a violent negative shove.
“No. They’re not pink. They’re grey.”
But maybe he’s color blind…
“What color is the t-shirt you’re wearing?” I asked.
He peered at it and seemed confused by the question.
“Grey. Why?”
Damn. It was grey.
So that ruled out being color blind…
So maybe the colors were a little scrambled, but the image was right.
Wasn’t it?
My stomach twisted.
I couldn’t fool myself into thinking this was a positive thing.
“Have you ever taken care of animals like this before?” I asked.
He peered at his hands.
It wasn’t the first time I noticed the hard skin and welts across his palms.
He was used to using them… but did it have anything to do with taking care of livestock?
“No,” he said. “I don’t think I could.”
Then he did a surprising thing.
He smiled at me.
“That’s something new,
