Remembering You

Mr. Right

**I won't do a trigger warning for each chapter for the same things, but expect some steamy scenes, violence, mentions of pregnancy loss, blood, and LOTS of drama. **

"Baby 2? So I have two kids?" I asked incredulously, unable to think of having two little minions under my care.

"No. Just one. And you HAD Sera. She's not your concern anymore," he said, the humor evaporating. His voice was soft, but I could hear the pain leak through in a gentle way, almost unnoticeable unless you were looking for it. No name for the baby. Clearly, it died in the wreck, and he felt horrid about it. He had saved Sera and me but had clearly failed still. The guilt now made sense, and I felt a stabbing of pain, realizing I had lost a child even though I didn't know it.

"Go to sleep, Anna. Enough questions for today. Stress will not get your memories back any sooner," he said darkly, writing out some sort of notes on his papers, evidently finished with the conversation. I sat back in the bed, sighing, wishing he were wrong but knowing he had a point. Stress in itself could be the reason why my memories weren't coming back, even though the anterograde amnesia had resolved itself. Being in a car wreck where I had lost a baby would for sure do that to me.

"One last question. What's your name?" I asked quietly. I didn't think he was going to answer; it was obviously rubbing salt in his wound that I was no longer his wife, but to my surprise, he murmured his response.

"Jason Lightfayre."

I slept through the entire next day, which wasn't unusual for someone recovering from such a serious accident and on copious pain meds, so I woke up just in time for dinner.

"We have a hamburger for you, some salad, and some fruit," Isabella, Becky's replacement, said, highlighting the gross hospital food as if it were a three-course high-end meal. I felt nausea roll over me as the pain meds she had given me less than half an hour ago did their job but made me lose my appetite for sure.

"I'm good, honestly. Do you just have like a roll or something? The pain meds make me sick," I said, wincing at the dinner and the putrid smell it gave off.

"Percocet can do that to you. I really shouldn't do this, but you always were my favorite doctor for Gracie. I can run downstairs and get you a protein smoothie from that shop next door. That should be nice and easy on the stomach and help you put on some weight. You need it for sure," she said, surprisingly easy-going while cleaning off my arm.

They had done a full skin graft using lab-grown skin, so it was healing but surprisingly looked rather natural. Once the edges healed and the bruising went down, I possibly could pass as not having almost lost my arm due to the damage. They must have used a great plastic surgeon, I mused.

"I'm not that skinny, am I? How much weight have I lost?" I asked curiously. She refused to meet my eyes, and I got the feeling she regretted having said anything.

"Not much, just like twenty pounds or so," she said evasively. My jaw dropped in shock.

"How long have I been here?" I asked, horrified, having figured it was days at most.

"A week," she said uncomfortably, fixing up my bandages quickly so she could leave and not answer my questions.

"Then how did I lose so much weight? I'm hardly overweight," I asked, trying to piece everything together. She bit her lip and shifted awkwardly, trying to decide what to do.

"Most of it was from BEFORE the accident. Just stress-related and such," she said, still not telling the whole truth.

"I knew it! I was miserable with Jason, wasn't I!" I said firmly, finally having the proof that I needed that he was really just a total git. Perhaps the accident was for the best, and I could start fresh without him.